#Why do they have to force me to something that I already made the effort to block? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meiieiri · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

5K notes · View notes

talaok · 10 months ago

Text

What did daddy teach you?

Pairing: Step-dad!Joel Miller x Step-daughter!reader x Step-uncle!Tommy

Summary: Joel has decided you need to have practice with other men. Thankfully Tommy is more than happy to step up for the task.(this is part of a series but can be read alone)

Warnings: oh boy, step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence: dub-con, Perv!Joel, Perv!Tommy, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| oral sex (m receiving), face fuking, he forces you down for a bit too long, handjob, 1 slap, anal play, unprotected p in v sex (one right after the other), spanking, hair pulling, coming on face, creampie, degradation (slut, whore), praising, Tommy's mean and rough, and of course loads of daddy-kink.

This is a dark fic, so please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don't like what you see.

a/n: I should be institutionalized

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3

Mom had gone away on some kind of business trip for this weekend, and normally, that wouldn't have been a reason for you to be particularly happy, but now, with everything that happened in the past month it meant only one thing: Joel could teach you all about making love for two full days.

You were so incredibly excited it was kind of funny.

You had done all your homework already so that nothing could distract you or take time away from your lessons, and immediately once you came home you had changed into the special clothes you only wore for Joel-this time he'd bought you a little tiny dress, not the usual skirt.

It was the kind of white that was basically transparent, especially being you couldn't wear anything underneath it, and it wasn't like it covered much anyway... as always at least an inch of your ass wasn't covered by the fabric, and the top of it was very much more low cut than what you were used to,

But that's the way daddy liked it, and as he was always reminding you, it was healthier for your skin anyway,

Just as you were sitting down on the couch, the doorbell rang.

"Hi babygirl"

"H-hi"

"Hi sugar" Tommy's smirk matched Joel's, the devil lurking behind those eyes- and your heart dropped at the sight.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

It was supposed to be just you and Joel- You didn't know he was gonna be here- you were- oh god-

you looked down at your clothes and immediately went to cover up, your arms doing a poor job of shielding your body from their ravenous gaze.

They were eating you with their eyes, and perhaps even enjoying seeing how panicked that made you.

"I-I'm sorry" you gulped, as they stepped inside and closed the door behind them "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be coming Uncle Tommy"

Tommy's grin only widened, his eyes making little to no effort to avoid falling to your cleavage.

"is that the way to greet your uncle now?" he tsked

Joel chuckled beside him, but you were so mortified you didn't even hear him

"I-I'm sorry I just- I- I should c-change"

It seems Joel was gonna let his brother do all the talking

"why's that?" he frowned, taking a slow step towards you "you look real damn good sweets... ain't there no need to change"

"b-but" your eyes shifted to Joel only to find him already watching you

But only daddy can see me dressed like this

But it's against the rules

"c'mere sugar" was all Joel said

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel relieved to be walking away from Tommy and his gaze

"W-what's going on daddy?" you whispered, although Tommy could very well still hear,

You were only a few steps away from him, but his focus was entirely on something else as you offered him a sneak peek of your ass

"I-I thought you'd be teaching me another lesson today"

his hand found your back, pushing you flat against him, and your hands went to his chest.

"daddy" you tried to warn him, but he was already kissing you, his lips soft and rough at the same time against yours.

You heard a soft chuckle coming from your left, and you swore you squeaked in surprise.

What is he doing?

Tommy can see us!

"daddy I-" You stole a glance at his brother and found him palming the front of his jeans "he can see us"

Finally, Joel decided to explain, not wasting an opportunity to laugh softly at your naivety first.

"Uncle Tommy's here for you sweetheart"

You could only frown, looking up at him again

"He's here to help you out"

What does that even mean?

daddy's already helping you

"with what? Y-You-"

He smirked, as his thumb traced your lips

"You see baby" he murmured, "You know me well now, you're used to me, to how I do... things" he explained "but a woman needs to be prepared to make love with men even if she doesn't know how it'll be" he said " when I said men like women with experience, I meant experience with different men too, with different mouths and fingers and cocks, you understand?"

You didn't think you did, not fully, but you still nodded.

"now I'm not saying that what you and I do ain't important, because it's real important for you sugar" his eyes were so honest and kind you were starting to forget all about the shock from moments ago "You still have a lot to learn, and I'm happy to help, but today... today Uncle Tommy was kind enough to agree to help me help you out"

You swallowed thickly, focusing on his strong hands on you and your beating heart

If Joel trusts Uncle Tommy, then I trust him too, you thought

"B-but you're still gonna be here right?"

The way he stroked your cheek said everything you needed to know, but he still spoke it into kind, gentle words, as if you'd made him happy by expressing your need for him to be there.

"of course, I'll be right there the whole time baby girl" he promised, softly caressing your back as he raised his chin to point at his brother "How 'bout you show Uncle Tommy how grateful you are he's helpin' you out now?"

You looked up at Joel, your eyes wide with excitement and nervousness while your hands gripped the shirt covering his chest

"I won't bite" Tommy's amused remark startled you.

He was right beside you now, and you hadn't even noticed him moving.

Some of his curly hair had fallen to his forehead, and his hands were in the front pockets of his jeans, patiently waiting for you to accept the offer, although judging by the big bulge in his crotch, it was taking all his self-restraint

Which it definitely was.

He'd wanted to fuck you since Joel first introduced you that 4th of July of what must have been a year ago.

And when his brother had told him of what he'd managed to convince you to do this past month... he didn't think he'd ever been more jealous in his entire life.

Which is why he decided that a few other words of encouragement wouldn't have hurt.

"c'mon sweetheart" he invited "give your favorite uncle some sugar"

And it would have been a lie to say you didn't want to,

Tommy really was your favorite uncle, and it's not like you were blind... he was one hell of a good-looking man.

So glancing at Joel one last time, you turned toward his brother and took a step until you were right in front of him.

He looked even more beautiful up close.

You gingerly placed your hands on his chest, and he didn't even waste a quarter of a second that his mouth was already devouring yours and his hands were gripping your waist to get you flat against him.

Your eyes were still wide in surprise as he let out a low groan and infiltrated his tongue between your lips to taste all of you,

You let him, you let him explore you entirely before you finally recovered from the shock.

I mean you were used to this kind of hunger from Joel, but you expected Tommy to be a little... tamer.

Once you were back, you started reciprocating, whimpering into his mouth as you too, started to explore his.

"fuck, sugar" he groaned, grinning before he went back to kissing you, grabbing your ass as he did.

You squeaked, completely pliant in his hands as he grabbed at you and kissed you like you were his, like his brother wasn't right behind you, watching the whole scene.

And then you felt it- you felt Joel's hands replace his brother's on your waist, and then you felt his lips graze your neck, his soft breath fanning over your skin as his beard skimmed it, sending shivers all over you.

And then...

There was something so sinful about having two men, two brothers, kiss you at once,

but there was something spectacular about it too.

You moaned, like full-on moaned into Tommy's mouth, your knees buckling as your body turned to jelly.

Both men chuckled softly, their intoxicating mists all around you

"please" you whimpered as they pressed even closer to you, sandwiching you between their muscled bodies and the tents in their jeans.

"What was that?" Joel asked, kissing you right below your left ear as Tommy took care of the right side, making you squirm uncontrollably.

"Daddy-" you only whimpered

"I think she likes this" Tommy grinned, his smile one of a shark

"I think she does too" Joel agreed, both talking like you weren't there, "don't you, baby girl? Tell us how much you're enjoyin' this"

Tommy's hands had left your ass to find your tits now, while Joel's hands were busy stroking up and down your sides.

How could anyone ask for a girl's brain to work in this situation?

"I like it so much" you muttered, your voice a single thread of a whisper.

"yeah?" Tommy taunted "Where are you feeling how much you like it sugar?"

Heat rushed to your face, but Joel was quick to intervene at your pause.

"Don't be rude now sweetheart, answer Uncle Tommy's question" he said, continuing to leave hot kisses on your throat

"I feel it- Uhm- down... there" you whispered, your eyes falling to where your dress "covered" your heat.

"you mean, here in your lil' pussy?" Tommy spoke sultry as his hand found its way underneath your dress and cupped your cunt,

your bare, sopping cunt.

Tommy hissed as his digits connected with your slick folds

"mh-mh" you squeaked, both the men snickering again

"no panties, sugar?" Tommy growled, feeling himself harden with every passing second

"T-they're n-not allowed"

"'f course they aren't" he murmured, ghosting your mouth as he continued exploring your heat, thanking his brother in every language he knew inside his mind.

"poor baby" he cooed, faining pity "She's so wet"

"a-and tingly" you stuttered

"oh sugar" he cooed again "You want Uncle Tommy to take the tingles away?"

"y-yes- please"

but all of a sudden his hand was gone

"don't worry, I'm gonna take care of you later" he cooed, his wet fingers tracing your mouth "First you're gonna have to tell me a few things"

Before you had time to protest or question his words, Joel had already spoken

"let's get on the couch," he said, nodding behind him.

And in no time, the pair was sitting in front of you on the sofa, looking at you like both the front of their jeans weren't showing the perfect press of their hard-ons

"W-what do you want to know Uncle Tommy?"

The smile that split his face was almost feline.

He liked it when you called him that way too much.

"What did daddy teach you?" he asked without missing a beat.

"Oh" you whispered, feeling a wave of anxiety hit you

There was nothing wrong with what you did with daddy, you knew that- but it still felt so... personal.

"H-he's taught me a lot of things" you swallowed thickly, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your dress.

"like what sugar?"

Your gaze turned to Joel, who nodded, urging you to answer without having to breathe a word.

"I...uhm-" you bit your lip, trying to find the words while wondering where to even start "Daddy taught me h-how he can make me feel... good with his - uhm" you gulped, avoiding both the men's eyes "his f-fingers, a-and his mouth- and his... private part"

Tommy snorted like you'd just made a joke,

"His private part?" he mocked, his brows raising in defiance.

"I-" you stuttered looking at him

"we've talked about this sweetheart" Joel spoke now, giving you a pointed look

You had. He had spent a whole afternoon denying you the pleasure you were begging for until you were gonna spit out that word, and you certainly didn't want to go through that torture again.

"His c-cock"

It was such a crude word- you felt so out of place saying it.

Joel hummed in approval, while Tommy's smile spread.

"that's it?"

You gulped, shaking your head slowly.

"he-he's also preparing my other hole"

Tommy's growl was hungry.

"Daddy's trainin' your pretty asshole sweetie?"

"mh-mh" you could only nod

"that'll come real handy today" he grinned, only before you could voice your confusion, Joel had already spoken up

"Not today, she ain't ready"

Tommy'd disappointment lasted only so long

"take off your dress baby girl, show Tommy what he's gettin'"

"yes daddy" you nodded without hesitation, the command second nature at this point.

You got as far as starting to pull the top down when Tommy's voice interrupted

"slow sugar, I wanna enjoy it"

And so you did, you watched between them as you unhurriedly removed inch by inch of the dress from your body, only of course, they weren't looking back at you, their focus was on each piece of skin you uncovered, until your dress fell to the ground, and you were fully bare before them.

Tommy hadn't stopped touching the front of his jeans for one second.

"goddamn" he breathed, taking in every part of you "give me a lil' twirl, sweetie"

you did, and a little smile spread on your lips once you heard him let out a low whistle.

"bend over"

It was so weird having to obey someone else's commands other than Joel's, but you wanted to prove how good you were, so of course, you did: you placed your hands on the coffee table before you and lowered your torso until you could feel air hitting your core.

You couldn't see any of them, but you damn sure could feel their stare.

"look at that" Tommy purred "Such a pretty little pussy- so needy"

It was taking all of him not to stand up and taste you right now, and fuck but the urge only got stronger once Joel offered him an even better view.

"Spread your cheeks babygirl, let Uncle Tommy get a good look"

It took a bit of effort to support yourself without the help of your hands, but you were starting to feel desperate.

"fuck" Tommy growled "The pictures don't do her justice, man"

Your eyes widened at those words.

Joel had shown him the pictures!?

You stood up in a haze, turning around quickly.

"Y-you've seen the p-pictures? B-but-" your nerves were getting the better of your mouth "Daddy you said they were only for y-you-"

"I know what I said" Joel stopped you, his voice calm as ever "I only showed 'em to Tommy to show him your progress, to show him how good you've been this past few weeks" he explained, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks at the flattery "so that he could decide if he wanted to help you or not, get it babygirl?"

"O-oh- ok" you hummed, nodding shily.

Of course there was a reason.

"You looked real good in 'em baby" Tommy smiled "You should consider being a model"

You bit down a smile, embarrassed at his kindness

"Even the special kind" he smirked "I know I would pay good money to see all this" he said, gesturing roughly to your whole body.

Heat rushed to your cheek and neck as you bit your lip.

"Now" Tommy propped his elbows on his thighs "You've told me all about how daddy makes you feel good... but nothin' about how you make him feel good"

"O-Oh, I-" you stuttered, fiddling with your fingers behind your back

"My brother's taught you how to suck cock baby?"

"y-yes" you nodded "he did"

"good" he said, spreading his legs "whatcha waiting for then?"

"O-oh" you stuttered, giving Joel a quick look just to have him encourage you in the task, which is why you quickly moved to get down on your knees before your Uncle- well, step-uncle to be exact.

Your hands were the tiniest bit shaky as you started undoing his zipper, and when you looked up, saw Tommy's big hazel eyes looking down at you with such intensity and lust, you couldn't help but feel even more nervous,

Joel was right, you knew everything about him, about how he did all of this, but you didn't know absolutely anything about Tommy... about what you were going up against.

"she always this slow?" Tommy grumbled, looking over at his brother.

"'m doing my best, trust me, but she's a real slow learner" Joel sighed, joining his brother in his annoyance.

You were mumbling a soft "sorry", when with a grunt, Tommy had freed his cock.

You watched him wide-eyed, before panning over his dick- it was almost the same as Joel if it weren't that Joel's was a little girthier, and that he didn't have so much black curly hair at the base.

"what is it now, I need to feed it to ya too?"

He'd become so impatient... so mean and far from the kind man he was just five minutes ago.

"I'm sorry Uncle Tommy" you murmured, hurriedly starting to lick his tip, first the slit, then the whole head, until finally you took it in your mouth, gently massaging the start of his cock with your tongue.

Tommy only hummed, his hand going to the back of your head

"down" he ordered, so of course, you did.

You fed more of him into your mouth, tasting more and more of him, of his skin, the feel of his veins, of the subtle twitches he produced, until you were almost all the way, and an inevitable gag made its way out of your mouth.

But that was normal, it was very hard to get a cock all the way down your throat on the first try, daddy had taught you that, so you did what you knew worked, you started bobbing your head up and down... getting it all wet made it easier to go down your throat.

"faster, sugar"

You hollowed your cheeks, following orders and following the pace Tommy's hand forced on your head with his hand.

"that's it" he groaned "Now show me what daddy taught you, take it all down that pretty throat"

You wanted to tell him that you weren't quite ready yet, that his cock was a new one after all, but you had no time, he'd already forced you down, and you were already choking on his dick.

Tommy groaned, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up like there was any more space for him inside of you.

"Fuck" he breathed, looking down at you while talking to his brother "it's like she was made to suck cock"

"I know right?" Joel chuckled, admiring you too

"The trainin' really paid off"

"Don't I know it..." Joel grinned "Once a day- that's all it took"

"Once a day- fuck- lucky bastard"

And yes of course, in the meantime, you were coughing and choking and spitting on his cock, tears streaming down your face and staining your sight, so much you couldn't even make up what Tommy looked like anymore.

"you look so pretty like this baby" Tommy cooed, his hips still slowly rocking against you, worsening the situation almost as much as the hand that was keeping you down. "cryin' around your uncle's cock like a good girl" he groaned, talking to his brother again "don't she?"

"Looks almost as good as when she's cryin' around mine," Joel grinned as he freed his cock, taking your hand in his only to wrap it around it

"Can't forget about Daddy can ya?" Tommy chuckled, watching you absentmindedly starting to stroke him.

You were pretty sure you were about to faint at any moment now.

"Such an obedient girl" Tommy cooed, before abruptly releasing you "suck my balls now"

You were couching like a maniac, but he was already forcing your mouth close to his balls

"I-I've nev-"

"I didn't ask you to talk now, did I?"

You gulped, feeling the rest of some tears wet your cheeks as Joel guided your hand up and down his manhood

"N-no"

"What did I ask you to do?"

"t-to suck your balls"

"yeah?" he breathed "Then how come you ain't doing that yet?"

that's all the incentive you needed- you bent down and took one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

"Fuck- wasn't so hard, was it?" he groaned, feeling you lick and suck so very diligently.

He was saltier here, and it was kind of a weird feeling... daddy had never asked you to do this.

"That’s right look at me, baby," he groaned, "look at your uncle while you suck his balls- good girl"

Joel had stopped guiding you now, you were doing it all on your own.

"get back to my dick sugar, I wanna feel it down your throat again"

So you did, his hand going back to its previous position and keeping you down as you cried and gagged.

"'s good-fuck"

"babydoll-" joel's voice was stern.

You'd stopped stroking his cock, and you hand't even realized, you were too lost in the mess Tommy was making of you- so lost in fact you didn't even hear his reprimand.

Which is why the slap that Tommy gave your cheek took you even more by surprise, making you cry out.

"Daddy's cock ain't gonna stoke itself, honey"

You tried to blink the shield of tears covering your eyes, but it was all useless- you started stroking Joel again as Tommy taunted you.

"what, 's too hard to do two things at once for that lil' brain of yours?"

Joel laughed, his hips thrusting up to feel even better

"Shoulda seen her tryin' to do her homework with my cock in her pussy" Joel said, causing his brother to grin

"'s just what dick does to dumb lil' sluts" Tommy shook his head, admiring you still choking on his manhood "shuts their brain right off"

"Ain't that right..." Joel hummed knowingly.

They were talking like you weren't even there... although truth be told, you weren't actually able to comprehend most of it- your brain had turned into a fuzzy blob.

Tommy took decisions very quickly, you’d gathered that by now, but that didn’t mean you weren’t left dumbfounded all the same.

“As much as I like your mouth- it’s time i feel that pussy around my cock baby”

And just like that, he’d let you go- giving you a moment to slide his manhood out your mouth, and wipe the spit and tears off your face.

It was only a minute later, when you were done cleaning up, that you realized Joel’s cock was still in your hand.

“I-“ you breathed, shy underneath the men’s gazes “Do you want my mouth too daddy?”

He smiled proudly at you

“‘S alright- today’s about Uncle Tommy”

You nodded, slowly removing your hand and positioning it on your thighs, together with your right one.

You kneeled there, sitting on your heels, waiting for an order.

But you didn't need to wait long.

"You wanna fuck her here?"

Joel sounded as if he was talking about work

"Nah, wanna fuck her in her bed"

While Tommy sounded like he was talking about a hunt.

"you heard him doll" said Joel "lead the way"

It was such a strange feeling walking ahead of them, completely naked, completely wet, as you made your way to your room- and yet it was also thrilling.

Tommy was smirking as he looked around your room- it was exactly as he'd pictured it.

You were looking at him, at them, biting your lip nervously as Tommy rounded the space, while Joel decided to sit on the armchair in the corner next to the bed.

You were looking at Joel to try and grasp what you were supposed to be doing, what he wanted you to do, but he didn't let anything transpire.

Until finally, Tommy turned to you and walked right before you.

Your face was still damp when he grabbed it, squeezing your cheeks.

"You know what's gonna happen now sugar?"

"mh-mh" you nodded

He was gonna make love to you, you thought, but he was already wording it differently

"I'm gonna fuck you" he murmured, his mouth ghosting yours "and you're gonna be real good for me alright?"

"y-yes"

"yeah?" he taunted, his grip tightening

"Y-yes Uncle Tommy"

he let out a satisfied grunt as he let you go, leaving you to stand before him as he stripped of his clothes.

You felt your mouth water at the sight of him naked before you, and the feeling between your legs got much much worse.

his cock was throbbing against his stomach, still glistening from your mouth.

"ya like what you see honey?" he teased you, enjoying the blatant need in your eyes.

"I- yes" you murmured shily.

"bet you do- just can't wait to get stuffed can ya?" He smirked, watching the embarrassment creep up your face "Ain't nothin' wrong with it, 's normal for a lil' slut like you"

You gulped, watching him wide-eyed.

Daddy had called you that before, but it always confused you.

"s-slut?"

"well yeah baby" he cooed, his hands on your hips "you just took care of two cock at the same time, and now you're gonna get fucked back to back by the same two cocks" he shrugged, his lips right before yours "if that ain't what a slut does, I dunno what is"

"O-Oh"

"'s alright" he promised, his hands on your ass now "All that matters now 's that you got your daddy and me to take care of all your slutty needs"

You could only nod before he took a step back

"Now get on the bed" he spoke "face down, ass up"

You frowned then,

That's really not what you were used to doing, you liked eye contact, you liked kisses... you didn't want to be "face down, ass up"

"But Uncle Tommy- I- what if- I- want to look at you?"

he still seemed sweet as he looked at you, as he cooed "Oh baby", but then he'd grabbed your hair, pulling your head down, making you look at him.

"I see daddy hasn't taught you how it works yet" he growled "You're a slut, sweetheart- all you're good for is spreadin' your legs and followin' orders"

"You're not in charge here. If I tell you to get on all fours, you get on all fours- if I tell you to shut up and take it, you shut up and take it"

His grasp was strong, and your eyes were starting to water again, but all you could do was look at him as he spat those words at you.

"we clear?"

You nodded as much as you could given the situation

"say it"

"I-I got it"

He tugged at your hair as he growled in your face

"who's in charge?"

"You are"

And just like that, he'd let you go.

"face down, ass up" he repeated, and this time, you scurried towards the bed and complied.

You didn't dare look back, but you could feel Joel's stare right on your core, and hear Tommy's steps towards you.

"Jesus Christ"

Tommy had passed two of his digits through your folds, finding them completely soaked

"she always this fuckin' wet?" he asked his brother behind him

"You got no idea" he smirked "She leaves a stain on my pants every day she's so needy"

You'd be embarrassed by Joel's words if it weren't for Tommy's fingers plunging into you

"oh!" you moaned, your hands grabbing the sheets.

Finally

He was scissoring and curling his fingers, watching you convulse beneath him, pushing your ass back for more.

Your brain was already starting to get fuzzier when he pulled them out, forcing a whine out of your mouth.

Tommy only chuckled before popping his fingers into his mouth.

"she's sweet alright"

"yeah she is" Joel breathed, wishing he could be eating you out right then, but he'd promised his brother...

You were breathing ruggedly, peeking behind you in time to see your uncle smirk before grabbing his cock and sliding it between your folds.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan

"you want my cock baby?" he teased you, his tip gliding over your clit "You want my cock inside this sweet lil pussy?"

"y-yes" you whimpered

"beg for it"

You didn't need to be told twice, your pussy was fluttering by how much you needed it.

"please" you cried "please Uncle Tommy I- I need it"

"what do you need?"

"Your cock- I need it inside of me please"

And just then when you thought the torture was finally over, when he fisted the hair at the back of your head and positioned his cock at your entrance... he'd played you once again.

"'s alright baby, I got you" he murmured, sliding into you "there- it's inside now"

And he was- but only his tip.

Tears were in your eyes again. You were so fucking desperate.

"n-no please" you begged "more"

"more?" he mocked "this ain't enough? You want my whole cock?"

You tried to move your ass back to get more of him, but one of his hands was keeping you in place.

"Please!" you begged, holding back tears "I-I- please- need it"

A snicker rumbled behind you, and the hold on your hair tightened.

"what are you?"

You knew what you had to say, and you didn't even hesitate a second.

"I'm a slut"

A soft hum of satisfaction

"a lil' louder baby, let daddy hear too"

"I'm a slut daddy, I-I'm a slut"

Even if you couldn't see him, you could hear the smile on his face as Joel cooed "I know baby, I know you are"

But then it all stopped mattering, everything stopped existing because Tommy had thrust his cock into you, and all you could do was hide your face in the sheets as strangled mewls spilled from your lips.

"fuck- 's tight" Tommy groaned as he bottomed out, his dick easily sliding into you because of all the slickness, but stretching you out nonetheless

"told ya" Joel chirped in, making his brother grin before he referred to you again

"this enough for you, this what you wanted baby?"

"y-yes"

"yeah? 's good- now be a good slut and take everything I give you"

And that was all the warning he gave you, before he retracted his hips, and started fucking you like a man possessed.

The sound of his balls slapping against your skin, the squelch of your juices mixing with his, and your muffled cries together with his sick groans were the perfect picture of the most violent attempt at sex you'd ever seen.

He was splitting you open, and from this position, everything felt amplified ten times over, you could feel his cock even in your throat.

"oh my g-god" you were crying, actual tears and drool staining the sheets.

"I know baby, I know issa lot" he growled, one hand on your head and one on your hips "But this 's what you wanted- this is what a slut like you needs"

And then he was forcing your head even more down on the bed, somehow picking up the pace, and making you forget all about your name and what you were even thinking about.

"that's right, like that- take it" he grunted "Take it all in this tight fukin' pussy"

The slap on your ass came out of nowhere, and for some reason was followed by your moan, and your back arching, as if you were begging for more.

Your mind wasn't in control anymore, it was just your body, only your needs driving you.

Which is why when he did it again, and then again, and then again, until your ass was red and aching and your tears had formed a pool on the bed, your walls squeezed around him impossibly tight, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"Good little whore" he was grinning in the meantime "scream for your uncle baby- like that baby- now stay still-"

It didn't even come to mind to ask why, your brain was too murky, and his cock was still splitting you in half- the only thing you could do was gasp when his wet thumb probed at your asshole.

"Shhh" he shushed you, still forcing your head down "just take it"

And so you did, Daddy had trained you for this kind of stuff, so it wasn't that bad, it was just very unexpected

"she's fucking obedient when she wants huh?" he was talking to Joel again, who was palming his cock through his jeans.

"she's a real good girl when she's fucked out"

"yeah she is"

He was fingering your ass with his thumb as he fucked you, and your eyes were closed as you moaned like a madwoman into the thick air.

It felt so fucking good- it felt so fuckin-

"Oh god-"

he was going faster again, and his finger was deeper now in your ass and it felt so good now that it was... it was too much-

"T-tommy" you tried to speak, but your own moans interrupted you

"sush baby- or Imma have to tell daddy to put that mouth of yours to good use"

Fuck but that image made you tighten even more, and the chuckle leaving his lips meant he definitely noticed

"found yourself a real whore brother"

You were too overwhelmed by everything you were feeling, by your stomach squeezing as Tommy's cock hit that good spot inside you, by the foreign feeling of his thumb in your ass.

"d-daddy!" you cried, begging him for help.

Only Tommy had to come in and crush your hopes immediately.

"daddy ain't gonna help you sweetie" he cooed, your eyes on the back of your head "You just gotta take what I give you, and come on my cock like a good girl"

"can you do that f'me?" he spoke, "can you come around your favorite uncle's cock?"

And there was nothing you could do- it was inevitable

"yes" you whimpered

"I can feel it baby, c'mon " he urged, his thrust even deeper now "give it to me- give it to me like a good slut"

And just like that- your vision went white as a tsunami of sick, twisted pleasure coursed through your body, leaving you out of breath and barely awake as it died down, as you finally came back to earth to realize Tommy had been speaking you for some time.

"this pussy's beggin' me to come inside brother" Tommy was groaning, and you must have been out of it for a while because Joel was now next to his brother, standing on the side of the bed

"Tell daddy how much you want my come inside ya sweetie"

both men were looking at you with pure, glistening lust in their eyes

"I-inside" you finally whimpered

"not inside darlin'" Joel shook his head,

"b-but daddy- I- I wanna be full of him"

Tommy had a really hard time not coming right there after that.

"Yeah man, c'mon" Tommy grinned, his thumb now out of you and both his hands stroking your ass "you heard your babygirl- she wants it real bad"

Joel only needed to shoot him a glance to make him shut up

"Ass, face, or tits," he told him, and although Tommy rolled his eyes, he still chose

"y'know it's face"

Before you knew it you were kneeling on the floor and Tommy was jerking off right before you.

Your mouth was open, your tongue was out, but that didn't matter much... Uncle Tommy's aim wasn't very good.

He came with a loud groan, looking down at you and the masterpiece he was painting on your face the whole time.

"You look real fuckin' pretty like this" he grinned, his voice slightly out of breath as he grabbed your chin to inspect you better.

What he didn't expect was what you did next... Daddy had taught you manners after all.

He watched you as you started collecting his come with your index finger, and then he watched you pop it into your mouth, liking his spunk from it like it was the tastiest whipped cream.

You did it until your whole face was clean, and he couldn't stop fucking smirking.

"what do we say?" You heard Joel speak from beside you

"thank you, Uncle Tommy"

He couldn't help but reciprocate your smile "Anytime baby"

Joel didn't even wait a second before he was helping you up and onto the bed again.

You sat there as Tommy replaced his brother's spot on the armchair, while Joel took off his clothes-

Yes you were spent by all that Tommy had done to you, but you'd be lying if you said your hole didn't flutter around nothing every time you saw your step-dad naked.

"lay down babygirl"

You did, and not even a second later, Joel had pushed his cock inside of you, groaning lowly as he worked himself in to the hilt.

"daddy" you gasped, his dick stretching you out as always.

"I know darlin', I know" he cooed, remaining buried inside you as he pushed you up on the bed and then crawled on top of you "such good lil' girl, takin' it so well f'me sugar"

His words melted you as always, and then when he leaned down and crashed your lips in his... you became a doll at his mercy.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arm around his neck, keeping him impossibly close.

He smiled as he leaned away

"'m not going anywhere babydoll" he smirked, his soft mouth on the shell of your ear "not until you come for me" he murmured, sending a shiver down your spine "not until I've filled this pussy all the way up"

You moaned at his words, and he smiled as he started moving, slowly picking up his pace, until he too, just like his brother, was slamming into you at a brutal pace.

You were crying out, desperately grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck, while he was kissing your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses wherever he could.

It was then your gaze somehow settled on Tommy, on your step-uncle, sitting in the corner before you, and on his insatiable eyes fixated on you.

He smirked when he caught you.

"daddy feels good baby?"

"y-yes" you moaned

"not better than me right?"

"shut up Tommy" Joel grumbled

You wanted to smile but Joel was pounding you so hard that a whine left your throat instead

"'s alright, daddy can take it, can't ya Joel?" Tommy chuckled "I can tell you miss me already baby" he cooed "miss my cock, my thumb in that pretty ass..."

Joel grunted as he picked up his pace, leaving you breathless and all but able to answer Tommy.

"Do you, doll?"

It was Joel murmuring now, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he bashed in the feeling of having taken all common sense out of you once again.

"n-no daddy" you promised "y-you feel- so-"

But you couldn't finish the sentence, another moan had interrupted you.

"what?" he taunted, both brothers grinning at your state.

"perfect" you mumbled, eyes closing and belly tightening "s-so perfect"

"that's right" Joel smirked proudly "eyes on me darlin'"

It took a lot of effort, but you managed.

"You gonna come babydoll?"

"yes" you cried "yes daddy- please"

"'s alright, come for me darlin'"

You didn't need to be told twice- you continued looking at him as pleasure took over your body, as fireworks went off and your legs trembled desperately.

You came calling for him, and once you came back to earth, his lips were on yours, drowning the whimpers his cock was still spilling from your mouth.

"You want daddy's come, sugar?"

"yes" you begged, biting your lip as his pace got more and more irregular "Please daddy- need it deep inside me"

"All of it?"

"all of it daddy- want it all- please" you cried "fill me up"

And so he did, your moans becoming one as he shot rope after rope of his come inside of you.

He kissed you again when he was done, still buried inside you to avoid it spilling out right away- but you were in another universe, your eyes were closed and your limbs powerless.

Joel smiled then, finally sliding out of you and standing up.

You wanted to curl yourself up in a sleeping position but his hands stopped you, forcing your legs open for him and his brother to admire his work.

Tommy could only groan a low "fuck" as he took his place beside Joel.

"ain't she pretty?"

"fuckin' beautiful" Tommy murmured, mesmerized by the sight before him.

There you were, laid before him, his step-niece, completely fucked out.

"we wore her out too much" Joel's brother shook his head, his fingers caressing your thighs "I was ready for round two"

Joel's lips stretched into a soft smirk

"give her ten minutes"

"she'll fall asleep in ten minutes"

Joel's smile only widened as he shook his head

"don't worry- she's good at takin' cock even in her sleep"

2K notes · View notes

liuhsng · 2 months ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 14.5k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, foul language, alpha!jay, omega!reader, fem!reader, enemies to lovers trope, forced proximity, lots of sexual tension, jay’s a menace = you’re a menace, jay is emotinally constipated, jay has issues (but he’s your issue now), jay is confused and lowkey obsessed, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

⤷ a/n — i'm back baby, this is literally my favorite work rn i can’t even lie + I SWEAR, THIS HAS A PART 2 JUST GIVE ME A FEW HOURS, enjoy !!

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — park jongseong—better known as jay, had everything: wealth, power, and a name that carried undeniable influence. a pureblooded alpha and the only son of a family that dominated the aviation industry, he was sharp enough to take over the business and reckless enough to make the upper-ups lose patience. despite his position as student council treasurer, his reputation preceded him: missed deadlines, flawless grades, and a habit of picking the wrong fights. their solution? a tutor. a glorified babysitter. and, of course, it had to be you. an omega with a spotless record, a name as weighty as his own, and an infuriating presence that had always stood in his way. your families worked together, but you and jay never had. now, forced into each other’s space, the line between rivalry and something far more dangerous begins to blur.

The atmosphere in the lecture hall was suffocating, tension thick enough to choke on.

Jay sat back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s backrest. His expression was unreadable, a careful mask of boredom that only made the fury in his professor’s voice sound more desperate.

“You think just because you have power, you don’t have to put in the effort?” The professor’s voice cut through the silence, accusing.

“That your name alone is enough to get you by? That you can just waltz in and out of this classroom and still expect to be given the same respect as those who actually work for it?”

A few students stiffened in their seats. Others exchanged glances, some barely breathing. No one spoke. No one dared to.

Jay, however, barely looked fazed. If anything, he looked bored. He blinked, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head slightly.

“That’s an interesting accusation,” he mused, voice smooth, laced with something dangerous. “And what exactly have I done to ‘abuse’ my so-called power?”

The professor scoffed, crossing his arms. “Do you even hear yourself, Park? You show up when you feel like it, you turn in work whenever it suits you, and yet you still expect to be at the top of this class. You might be the student council treasurer, but that doesn’t mean you can—”

“—handle my academics?” Jay cut in, raising a brow. His voice was quieter now, but somehow even sharper. “I do my council work, don’t I? So tell me, if I can run the financials of this entire school, why wouldn’t I be able to keep up with my classes?”

His professor faltered, lips pressing into a thin line. But Jay was already done with this conversation.

His gaze dropped, falling to the Cartier watch wrapped around his wrist. He stared at it for a long moment, watching the second hand tick forward, before exhaling slowly.

Then, without another word, he pushed back his chair. The legs scraped against the tiled floor, the sound ringing through the lecture hall like a gunshot.

He stood, grabbing his bag in one fluid motion. On the desk beside him, a thick folder sat untouched; the very project that had been due yesterday. Without looking, he picked it up and strode to the front of the room, his footsteps slow, measured, deafening in the silence.

And then, with the kind of careless precision that only he could pull off, he dropped the folder onto the professor’s desk with a heavy thud.

A few students flinched. The professor barely breathed.

Jay adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, finally meeting the man’s eyes again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost amused lurking beneath it.

“Here,” he said simply, his voice dangerously quiet. “On time, as always.”

And then, without sparing another glance, he turned and walked out.

No rush, no hesitation. Just Park Jongseong, unbothered as ever, leaving behind a stunned professor and a classroom full of students who could do nothing but watch in awed, uneasy silence.

Because even when Jay didn’t follow the rules—he never once lost.

Jay moved through the halls with the ease of someone who belonged, not just in the school but above it. His strides were unhurried, exuding a quiet authority that made people step aside without him ever asking. Conversations dipped the moment he passed, whispers filling the void he left behind.

Most watched him with admiration, others with wariness, but they all watched.

It was always like this. Jay wasn’t just a student; he was the heir to a business empire, a pureblooded Alpha; he never begged, never chased, never had to ask for anything. The world bent in his favor.

And even when it didn’t, he simply took what he wanted anyway.

He barely acknowledged the attention, barely registered the murmured voices trailing behind him like a shadow. He had no reason to care. The class he had just left had been nothing short of a joke— lessons he had already known for years. A complete waste of time.

Now, he had better things to do.

The student council room was quiet when he arrived, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him. Jungwon sat at the far end of the room, hunched over his own stack of files, brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t even glance up. On the opposite side, Ni-ki was slumped over his desk, one arm draped over his face, mouth slightly parted in sleep.

Jay stepped inside like he owned the place, because he did.

His desk stood exactly where he left it, neat and untouched, save for the stack of papers waiting for his approval. The nameplate perched on the edge gleamed under the fluorescent light: Park Jongseong, Student Council Treasurer.

He didn’t waste time. Shrugging off his blazer, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the toned forearms littered with faint bruises from a fight long since forgotten. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the first document on the pile, flipping through the pages with the same sharp precision he applied to everything else.

The weight of the world balanced between his fingers.

And Jay, as always, carried it like it was nothing.

The room remained steeped in silence, save for the rustle of papers and the occasional shift of Ni-ki’s sleeping form. The quiet was almost welcome—almost.

“Another disagreement with a professor?”

The words came from across the room, flat and unsurprised. Jungwon didn’t even bother looking up from his stack of files, his pen scratching lazily against the paper.

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, a scoff more than an actual laugh. Not at Jungwon, but at the fact that word had already spread.

“Didn’t take long, huh?” he muttered, flipping to the next page in his file without much thought. His voice held the same easy arrogance as always, laced with something almost amused.

Jungwon smirked, still not looking up. “Dude, it’s you. At this point, it’d be bigger news if you actually went an entire week without pissing off a professor.”

Jay hummed, leaning back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head before letting them drop onto the armrests. “And? What about it?”

Jungwon let out a breath that was more laughter than sigh, finally setting his pen down. He clasped his hands together, resting his chin atop them as he gave Jay a knowing look. “You know, for someone who checks every box of a perfect student, you really need to start giving a damn about these kinds of shit.”

Jay’s eyes flickered up, “Why would I?”

Jungwon merely chuckled, shaking his head. “Because you’re giving the higher-ups exactly what they want.”

For a moment, Jay didn’t respond. Then he leaned forward, arms resting on the desk, voice low and laced with something just shy of amusement. “And what exactly is that?”

Jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Jungwon,” he started, voice dripping with something close to condescension, “their salaries come from us. From our families,”

He tilted his head slightly, watching Jungwon carefully. “So tell me, do you really think they’d risk stepping out of line?”

Jungwon only shrugged, picking up his pen again. “I think you’re making it easier for them to try.”

Before Jay could respond, the heavy doors swung open, cutting through the conversation.

Heeseung was the first to walk in, adjusting his cufflinks, his brows furrowed slightly like he had just come from something particularly annoying. Jake followed soon after, his lips twitching with amusement, and Sunghoon strolled in right beside him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Sunoo had his arms crossed, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Jay,” Heeseung drawled, dropping into one of the empty chairs, “you really need to stop pissing off the professors.”

Sunghoon huffed, tugging at the loosened tie around his collar. “And you say we’re reckless.”

Jake smirked, shaking his head. “I just saw your professor storming into the admin office, he didn’t look too happy.”

Jay didn’t even look up from the papers in front of him. “Should’ve assigned something actually worth my time, then.”

Sunoo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You are so full of yourself.”

Jay finally glanced up, resting his elbow on the desk and tilting his head slightly. “And?” His smirk widened, voice laced with amusement. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jake whistled lowly, shaking his head. “One day, man. One day, they’re actually gonna pull something on you.”

Jay only chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Then let’s see if they have the nerve.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Jay wasn’t looking for trouble.

Not this time, at least.

He had left the council room with one goal in mind—find a vending machine, grab a drink, and get to his next class before the headache forming behind his eyes got any worse. With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he looked more like someone who ruled this academy than simply walked through it.

“Fucking useless council doesn’t even do shit. Bunch of spoiled leeches living off family names.”

Jay’s steps didn’t stop. He’d heard worse. He wasn’t in the mood.

But then—

“And Park Jongseong? That bastard’s a walking headache. Always in fights, never in class. Total burden, that one.”

That made him stop.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as he turned on his heel. Three Alphas. Not just any Alphas—delusional ones. Ones who thought that just because they shared the same title, they were anywhere near his level.

Jay’s gaze swept over them with cold indifference, expression unreadable. A predator surveying prey.

One of them, a bulky second-year with more muscle than sense, met his gaze with an arrogant smirk.

“What did you just say?” His voice was soft. Almost pleasant. Almost.

Jay took a step forward, gaze steady. His bag slid off his shoulder and hit the ground with a dull thud.

The guy scoffed, chin raising like he thought this was going to be some pathetic pissing contest. “You heard me. You’re a burden, Park Jongseong. Just throwing your weight around, hiding behind your family’s name.”

Jay’s jaw twitched. Not with anger.

With boredom.

“You really think this is the hill you want to die on?”

Before they could answer, Jay’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The crack echoed across the stone path, followed by a sharp grunt as the Alpha stumbled back, crashing into the iron bench behind him.

The other two didn’t waste time—they lunged.

Jay ducked under the first punch, letting it sail over his shoulder before delivering a brutal elbow to the side of the Alpha’s head. The third tried to grab him from behind, but Jay twisted free, slamming his palm against the guy’s face and shoving him backward with enough force to send him toppling over his friend.

Blood spattered across the edge of his collar. Someone groaned. Another cursed.

Jay barely blinked.

One of the Alphas managed to swing wide, landing a weak punch to Jay’s side. He barely flinched. Instead, he turned and landed a right hook that sent the idiot reeling to the dirt.

It didn’t last long. It never did.

Jay adjusted his sleeve, breathing steady as he looked over the mess he left in the grass.

One of them groaned from where he lay curled on the ground, and somewhere in the distance—a shrill cry.

Jay’s head tilted slightly.

A girl, probably one of their mates had appeared from around the hedge, gasping in horror as she caught sight of the scene.

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my god, what happened—what did you do to them?!”

Jay didn’t even look at her. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and wiped a streak of blood from his knuckle with the corner of his uniform.

“Tch.” He scoffed under his breath, turning away from the mess like it wasn’t even worth the effort of acknowledgment. “Tell them to watch who they run their mouths around.”

The girl’s voice rang out behind him—shaky, pitched with fury and disbelief. “You’re gonna pay for this, Park! You think you can keep getting away like this?”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.

The sound of her threats faded behind him, buried under the weight of his own indifference. Her voice was just another noise in a world that had too much of it already. He tugged at the sleeve of his uniform where blood had stained the cuff, and with a quiet scoff, flicked the edge down like it wasn’t even there.

What was she going to do? Cry to the higher-ups?

Jay stalked through the side halls of the academy, his pace unhurried, movements fluid with the same dangerous calm that had haunted the bruised and bloodied trio left behind on the grass. He passed by a few students, some whispered. Some stared. Most pretended not to notice the faint smudge of blood near his collar.

The classroom was quiet when he pushed open the door. Second period. Business Strategy. Another joke of a class with a professor who acted like theory ever meant anything in a real-world empire.

Jay’s eyes scanned the room once, sharp and bored, before they landed on the only person who mattered in the moment.

Sunghoon.

Sitting by the window, legs crossed, silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something into his notes with a blue pen. His back was straight, posture perfect. He didn’t even need to look up, he already knew.

But unlike him, Sunghoon didn’t indulge in chaos. He didn’t need to. His brand of power was colder, quieter, a silent scalpel instead of a roaring fire.

Jay made his way to his seat without a word, dropping his bag with a thud, the chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back.

Then—

“You smell like blood.”

Sunghoon’s voice broke the stillness, calm but edged with that unmistakable disapproval only he could manage. He didn’t look up from his notes. Didn’t need to.

Jay smirked. The one that twisted the corners of his mouth into something sharp and crooked. The one that came right before someone regretted crossing him.

“Wasn’t my fault this time.”

Sunghoon finally looked up, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowing as they landed on the faint red on Jay’s knuckles.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Jay leaned forward, elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his hand as he stared back, amused. “They were talking. Spouting shit about the council. About me.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond right away. Just studied him. Like he was debating whether to call him out or let it slide.

“They’re just jealous.” Jay’s voice dropped into something lower, laced with pride. “No pedigree. No power. Just noise trying to echo louder than it should.”

Sunghoon sighed, setting down his pen.

“You’re going to end up on the university's front page one day, you know that?”

Jay chuckled under his breath, stretching out in his seat like the whole world owed him space.

“Good. About time they started printing things that matter.”

And with that, he turned his head toward the window, letting the sunlight catch the faint smudge of red still clinging to his skin, completely unbothered.

The council room was quieter than usual, the afternoon sun slanting through the high arched windows and casting golden streaks across the dark wood table.

Only seven seats were filled, the rest empty; a rare, informal meeting between the inner circle. Jungwon sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he flipped through several clipped pages of final project proposals, while Heeseung leaned closer to get a better view, murmuring comments here and there.

“We’ll need to finalize the proposals by next week,” Jungwon said, his voice calm but laced with authority. “Heeseung, double-check which department submissions are missing and send a notice before tomorrow’s end. Jake, make sure the permits are in by Friday, I don’t want delays. Sunoo, go over the communications plan, see if it fits the timeline.”

Jake nodded, scribbling something into his notes. “Already on it.”

Sunoo offered a small salute from across the table. “Social media templates are halfway done. I’ll send them for review tonight.”

“Sunghoon,” Jungwon continued, “you’re in charge of marketing coordination for the week. Keep our outreach tight. Ni-ki, check in with the lower-year reps, remind them this isn’t vacation season.”

Ni-ki groaned but gave a thumbs-up, clearly still half-asleep as he twirled his pen lazily between his fingers.

“And Jay,” Jungwon said, his eyes shifting to the treasurer who sat farther down the table, lounging like the meeting was a minor inconvenience. His legs were crossed, one hand twirling a pen while the other balanced the budget folder against the table's edge.

Jay sighed, snapping the folder open. “Yeah, yeah. Budget review. Let’s get it over with.”

He glanced at the numbers and began reading aloud with casual detachment. “We have more than enough to fund this cycle’s cultural and academic allocations, assuming no new surprise expenses show up.”

He flipped to the next page, eyes narrowing slightly. “Also, whoever ordered last term’s light rentals should be banned from touching a receipt again.”

Jake chuckled under his breath, already knowing who Jay was referring to.

Jay paused briefly, his fingers tapping against the wood. There was something contemplative in the way he stared down at the inked numbers, like his mind had wandered elsewhere. “Isn’t it funny,” he muttered, voice low but clearly audible, “how I’m the irresponsible one, and yet I’m still the one cleaning up their mess?”

A knock interrupted the moment.

Jay didn’t bother looking up. “Probably someone wasting my time,” he mumbled, flipping the folder closed.

Another knock came, louder.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Come in,” he snapped.

The door creaked open, revealing a first-year beta standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a folded paper like it might protect him. He hesitated before stepping fully inside, his face already pale.

Jay’s eyes locked on him, slow and deliberate. The beta visibly tensed as the scent of sandalwood and tequila thickened, laced with a bitter edge of annoyance. Jay raised a brow, unimpressed.

“Spit it out.”

The boy’s hands shook. “Y-You’re needed at the Head Office, sir. The Headmaster… he said it’s urgent.”

Jay didn’t respond. He simply stared, the silence stretching long enough to make the boy fidget.

Jake reached over and gently pulled the folder from Jay’s hand before the latter’s temper could ignite. “Just go,” he said with a half-smile. “You’ll melt the poor kid with that glare.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his tablet. “Try not to start a war while you’re at it.”

Jay scoffed, rising to his full height, his movements smooth and deliberate. He tugged the cuffs of his blazer into place, the air around him still crackling faintly from his earlier irritation.

“Tell the Headmaster he owes me ten minutes of peace,” he muttered coldly, shooting one last glare at the messenger as he strode past, his presence still lingering heavily even after the door clicked shut behind him.

The hallway was quiet, footsteps echoing as Jay and the first-year beta walked side by side—or rather, the beta trailed half a step behind, nervously glancing up at him every few seconds. Jay said nothing. His silence was as sharp as a blade, stretched taut like a wire ready to snap.

They hadn’t made it more than a few turns from the council room when the boy fumbled with the folded paper and held it out, his voice almost a whisper. “S-Sir, the letter… the Headmaster asked me to give it to you.”

Jay stopped. He took the letter slowly, opening it with a lazy flick of his fingers. His eyes scanned the contents. Whatever was written on the paper didn’t seem to amuse him in the way it should have—instead, a sarcastic laugh slipped past his lips.

“Of course,” he said under his breath, crumpling the letter in one hand before stuffing it into his blazer pocket like it was trash. “If he makes me late for my next class, I’m filing a harassment complaint.”

The beta beside him paled even more, sweating nervously under the weight of Jay’s sharp tone and overpowering scent. Jay didn’t spare him another glance, already walking forward again as if the entire thing was an inconvenience unworthy of his time.

By the time they reached the administration wing—tucked at the far end of the sprawling campus like a punishment in itself, Jay was already dragging his feet. The place smelled like polished floors and expensive paper. Too clean. Too suffocating.

The receptionist stood up the second she spotted him, mouth already opening to offer a polite greeting. But Jay walked right past her without so much as eye contact. He didn’t care. Didn’t need the fake pleasantries. And certainly didn’t have the patience for it.

Without knocking, he pushed open the heavy door to the headmaster’s office, letting it swing in with a dull thud against the wall.

Inside, seated like a damn tribunal, were the Headmaster, the Disciplinary Director, and one of the academy’s Legal Advisors.

There was a single, untouched glass of water placed neatly on the desk in front of the empty chair.

Obviously for him.

Jay didn’t sit.

He didn’t even step fully inside yet, standing just past the office with a look of total disinterest.

“If you’re trying to scare me with the full panel,” he said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “you should’ve invited my father. He would’ve appreciated the effort.”

The Legal Advisor raised a brow. The Disciplinary Director narrowed her eyes. The Headmaster just sighed, already bracing for the kind of conversation only Park Jongseong could bring to the table.

“You’ll want to sit, Mr. Park,” the Headmaster offered, gesturing toward the chair.

“I’m good,” Jay replied, tone clipped. “Let’s not pretend we enjoy each other’s company.”

“Suit yourself.” The Headmaster folded his hands over the folder in front of him. “We’re here today because of your recent behavior.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. Recent is vague.”

The Headmaster exhaled, already used to the boy’s theatrics.

“You’ve been in four separate altercations this month alone,” he began calmly, lifting a folder and flipping it open. “Three of which resulted in faculty involvement. One of which resulted in the school clinic being called in. You’ve submitted two assignments this term, both a week late, and there are five courses where your professors have yet to receive even a syllabus outline from you.”

Jay blinked. “And?”

The Disciplinary Director tensed. “Mr. Park, that isn’t—”

“But your council duties,” the Headmaster interrupted, ignoring the tension. “Perfect. Every report on time. Budget reports accurate. Project proposals double-checked. Even your attendance is flawless.”

Jay scoffed quietly. “Because I actually give a shit about that.”

The Headmaster raised a brow but didn’t respond to that. Instead, he closed the folder and folded his hands together.

“No one here is threatening expulsion, Mr. Park. That would be a waste of everyone’s time. You’re not a delinquent. You’re intelligent. Capable. You just lack… consistency.” He paused. “What you need is someone to keep you grounded. Someone who’ll remind you that your brilliance doesn’t exempt you from basic responsibility.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed. His posture stiffened slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re assigning me a babysitter.”

“In a sense,” the Headmaster said slowly, reaching for a second file from beneath his desk. “I’ve spoken with your father about this. He’s agreed.”

Jay finally moved. He dropped himself into the empty chair across the desk with a mockingly loud sigh, slouching in the seat like he had nothing to lose.

He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, tone dripping with fake concern. “So what now? You gonna slap me with another warning? Extra hours in the archives? Gonna pair me with some first-year Omega who’ll sob if I raise my voice?”

He sat back with a grin, fully expecting the usual lecture.

But then the Headmaster slid a new folder across the desk.

And said your name.

“(L/N) (Y/N),” he announced, calm and final. “You’ll be paired with her for one month.”

Jay’s entire body went still.

Gone was the amused posture, the lazy grin, the biting sarcasm—replaced by a cold, simmering silence. His face didn’t just fall; it contorted, the corners of his mouth pulling down into something bordering on disgust, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles ticked.

The glass of water on the desk remained untouched, condensation dripping silently onto the wood.

“You’re kidding,” he said finally, voice low and razor sharp.

The Headmaster merely straightened his papers. “Her academic record is exemplary. No demerits. No late submissions. Excellent conduct and a proven sense of leadership. You both rank highest in your respective year levels.”

“You know your families have been close for generations,” the Headmaster continued. “She’s one of the top students in her year, and her record is—”

“Clean. Of course it is,” Jay snapped, voice low and dangerous now.

The Legal Advisor cleared her throat, flipping open a second folder. “In fact, your records side by side paint quite the contrast.”

She held up the paper, a side-by-side chart. One half filled with distinctions, glowing reviews, recommendations. The other half, Jay’s half, filled with warning slips, missed assignments, and disciplinary notes scribbled in rushed red ink.

Jay just stared, harder and colder than ever before, like he was mentally setting the entire office on fire.

“You excel when you care,” the Headmaster said, voice even. “But you don’t care enough, and that’s the problem. So, for one month, she’ll be tasked with overseeing your academic responsibilities. Any delays or failures in submission will reflect on both of you.”

That made Jay’s brows twitch.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you want her to babysit me?” he muttered under his breath.

“She’s not a babysitter,” the Disciplinary Director corrected. “She’s your academic liaison for the month.”

Jay gave a dry laugh. Cold. Humorless. Like someone told him the world was ending and handed him a glitter pen to sign the paperwork.

“She won’t last a week,” he sneered. “She’ll run the moment she realizes I don’t play by honor student rules.”

“You’ll be surprised,” the Headmaster replied simply. “She agreed.”

That made Jay’s smirk falter. You agreed?

Jay leaned back again, arms crossed, and stared them down with a look that could've burned holes through solid steel.

“If you’re top of the class,” the Headmaster said, “it’s time you start acting like it.”

Jay gave a short laugh—dry and humorless as he stood.

He didn’t bother collecting the folder. Didn’t look at the water. Didn’t thank them for their concern.

He just turned, the sneer still tugging at his lips as he opened the door again without a word. His shoulder brushed the frame just enough to make it swing back sharply behind him as he walked out, scent sharp and bitter in his wake.

And the silence that followed was louder than anything he could’ve said.

The scent of sandalwood and tequila spiked in the halls like a warning bell.

Students cleared the way without needing to be told, no one wanted to be collateral damage to whatever mood Park Jongseong was in. His bag was slung over one shoulder carelessly, steps heavy and sharp as he made his way toward the admin wing. Again.

“This better be the last damn time,” he muttered under his breath, jaw tight.

The moment he reached the polished wooden doors, he didn’t knock. With one swift shove, the door swung open and slammed against the inside wall with a loud crack that echoed through the room.

And then he saw you.

Sitting pretty on one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster’s desk, legs crossed at the ankle, back straight, hands folded neatly over your lap.

Jay blinked once, twice.

You didn’t look at him right away. No, of course not. You were too busy conversing with the Headmaster like you weren’t just assigned to be his personal nightmare for the next month.

He scoffed quietly, stepping further in and letting the door close behind him with a solid thunk.

The Headmaster glanced up. “Ah. Mr. Park. Right on time.”

“If this is another lecture, skip it,” Jay said flatly, “I’ve already heard yesterday’s greatest hits.”

The Disciplinary Director looked mildly amused. The Legal Advisor didn’t even blink.

The Headmaster simply gestured toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

Jay didn’t move. Instead, he looked at you again, finally catching your eyes as you turned toward him with the smallest smile. Innocent. Too innocent. It made his teeth grit.

And he hated that he noticed how good you looked, you always do.

“Park.” The Headmaster’s voice was firm. “Sit.”

Jay sighed through his nose and dragged the chair back with a loud scrape, dropping into it like it offended him to be told what to do. He leaned back, arms crossed, one ankle resting over his knee.

The Headmaster folded his hands. “Now that you’re both here… Let’s discuss the terms of your arrangement. It’s one month. Ms. (L/N) will be overseeing your academic responsibilities alongside your council work. Every submission, every report, every meeting—you two will handle together.”

The Headmaster continued. “Your records are being compared as we speak. While you may be leading your class in terms of final results, Jay, it’s clear you’ve neglected basic academic structure. Submissions late. Skipped consults. Zero communication with your professors.”

Jay sneered. “They get the work, don’t they?”

The Headmaster ignored him. “Ms. (L/N), on the other hand, has an impeccable record.”

Jay laughed. A soft, breathy scoff that held zero amusement.

“Of course she does.” His voice dropped into something darker. “Perfect little (L/N).”

You turned your head toward him slowly, brows raised just slightly. Not enough to argue. Just enough to say try me.

Jay didn’t look away.

“So,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m to be micromanaged for the next month by Miss Honors?”

“You’re to be held accountable,” the Headmaster replied, voice stern. “By someone who understands the responsibility your title carries. You're not just a student, Jay. If you're top of your class, it's time you act like it."

Silence.

“Are we understood, Mr. Park?”

Jay didn’t answer.

He stood slowly, the chair scraping back again as he pushed it away, and with one final glare that could’ve shattered glass, he turned on his heel.

And walked out.

You stood the moment the door clicked shut, smoothing the crisp pleats of your uniform and adjusting the bow behind your head. You didn’t need a mirror, you knew everything was in place. It always was. Your image was pristine. Polished. Perfect.

But your patience? Absolutely gone.

The moment they told you who you’d be paired with, something in you snapped like a frayed violin string. Park Jongseong. Park fucking Jongseong.

The bane of your existence since you were little. A pureblooded Alpha with more detentions than he had emotions. The only student who could match your grades and outmatch your blood pressure.

You hated him. Down to your last well-behaved nerve.

But of course, you smiled. Nodded. Bowed your head like the good little Omega everyone expected.

Until you walked out.

Jay was leaning against the wall just outside the office, arms crossed, head tipped back like he was the picture of unbothered royalty. But the moment your heels hit the marble, he lifted his head. His eyes raked over you once, and you didn’t miss the flicker in his gaze, a flash of recognition, followed by instant, irritated regret.

You looked perfect. As always.

Hair pinned into place with your signature ribbon, uniform wrinkle-free and tailored to academy standards, not a single thing out of line. Your heels clicked across the floor with infuriating grace, and your thigh-high socks—dress code approved, of course—drew eyes whether you wanted them to or not.

To Jay, you were the image of a perfect Omega.

Too bad you were a pain in his ass.

You brushed past him without a glance, your lavender perfume lingering in the air like a silent challenge. But Jay’s nose twitched, beneath the floral sweetness was the faint, sterile bite of scent blockers.

His sneer was instant.

And for some reason, that pissed him off more than it should’ve.

“I’m not doing your reports,” Jay muttered after you, voice sharp with disdain.

You stopped and turned on your heel with the calm of someone born to kill with kindness.

“Good,” you bit back, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because I wouldn’t trust you to spell your own name right on a cover sheet.”

Jay pushed off the wall, stalking forward with that arrogant, deliberate stride. “Keep talking, princess. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll forget you’re the one who begged the Headmaster to babysit me.”

Your jaw twitched. “I didn’t beg. I was assigned. Believe me, I’d rather chew glass.”

He stepped into your space, just close enough to make your skin crawl.

“You’d probably find a way to do it politely.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’d probably choke on it.”

The tension in the air snapped. His scent spiked, darker, colder.

“Let’s be clear,” you said, voice low. “You don’t scare me. You don’t impress me. And if you think I’m going to fall into line just because you’ve got a title and a family name—”

Jay leaned closer, a breath away from your face.

“You know, Jay, I don’t need you to fall in line. I just need you to keep up.” You laughed once—cold, and walked away, heels echoing like gunshots across the hall.

He watched you go. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. Every inch of his body screamed irritation.

You were going to ruin his life even more than you already did.

It had been a week.

One whole week of walking down hallways like you didn’t want to claw each other's throats out, of sharing study sessions where pens nearly snapped from the pressure of your grip.

And now, here you were. Walking toward the council room, side by side with him.

Whispers followed almost immediately, they were sharp and insistent, bouncing off the marble halls like a chorus of disbelief.

“Are they seriously—”

“No way. They hate each other.”

“Didn’t (Y/N) throw a stapler at him in sophomore year?”

“I swear Jay once said she’d haunt his nightmares.”

You didn’t bat an eye. Jay didn’t, either. But the tension between you both was impossible to miss.

He reached for the heavy wooden doors first, pushing it open with a grunt, shoulders tense as he muttered under his breath, “Get your ass inside.”

You clicked your heels deliberately loud as you stepped in, pausing just long enough to throw him a side glance.

“How chivalrous,” you said, nose tilting upward with a picture-perfect scoff as you walked right past him.

Jay growled behind you, hands tightening at his sides as you strutted into the council room like it was your runway.

You took your usual seat beside Jake’s mate, crossing one leg over the other as you adjusted your skirt like it was second nature.

“There you are!” she gasped, pulling her phone out with a sparkle in her eyes. “Look, they dropped the preview for the new Dior line.”

You leaned in with genuine interest, annoyance dissolving for a moment as you gasped softly. “The saddle bag in navy, is that matte leather?”

“Yes!” she squealed. “But I can’t decide between that or the canvas one.”

“I’d go matte. It’s more timeless. We’re getting matching, right?”

Sunghoon’s mate slid into the conversation with a flawless grin. “I knew you two would be twins again. I’m getting the boots, though.”

Jake’s mate giggled. “We’re just waiting on the others. Where are they?”

You shrugged lightly, not even glancing up from the phone screen. “Saw them heading to the washroom a minute ago.”

As the three of you giggled and gushed over your plans, Jay dropped into his seat across the room with a sigh so heavy it practically echoed.

The chair creaked under him as he sank down, dragging a hand down his face before reaching into his bag to pull out the thick folder of budget reports he’d stayed up half the night organizing.

Sunoo rolled across the room in his chair with Ni-ki right behind him, both of them practically vibrating with the need to be menaces.

“Bro,” Ni-ki grinned, whispering, “we seriously thought you were kidding when you said (Y/N) would be up your ass.”

“She’s not just up there,” Sunoo added with a snort. “She built a house. Probably a pool too.”

Jay didn’t even bother looking at them. “She’s not up my ass. She is the pain in it.”

Despite the chaos, the other boys started to trickle in one by one—Jake, Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung—each taking note of your presence with quiet glances. They all knew the drill by now: acknowledge you, be polite, and above all… don’t spark anything.

They greeted their mates with soft smiles and casual kisses on the cheek, but when their eyes met yours, they all gave short nods and carefully neutral expressions. Polite, yes. Friendly, sure.

But when Jay was in the room with you, they kept everything restrained, their own mates sometimes exchanging glances that said, not today.

The murmuring died down when Jungwon cleared his throat and looked directly at Jay, motioning toward the front of the table. “Let’s get started,” he said simply. “Jay, you’re up.”

Jay stood with that usual bored elegance, flipping open his laptop and connecting it to the monitor in one smooth motion. The screen flickered to life, revealing a neat layout of monthly budget allocations, proposals, and expense reports.

He scrolled through his slides as he spoke, voice low, crisp, and straight to the point. “Quarterly allocations are being finalized. Clubs requesting additional budget this month include Performing Arts, and Athletics. Most proposals passed the standard review. Here’s the breakdown.”

Bar graphs. Pie charts. More numbers you couldn’t care less about, but you still kept your gaze steady. Even if he was a pain in the ass, Jay knew how to present well. Of course he did. He didn’t get to be top of the class and treasurer of the council without being dangerously capable.

But he wasn’t perfect.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly when a certain number blinked across the screen. He clicked to the next slide without pause.

You raised your hand.

Jay paused mid-sentence, jaw clenching for half a second before he forced his voice to stay even. “Yes, (L/N)?”

You uncrossed your arms slowly, tapping a manicured nail against your phone screen as you double-checked the file Jungwon had shared earlier. “You listed the Performing Arts’ costume fund under miscellaneous expenses. That’s a flagged violation from last semester’s audit. It’s required to be under equipment to fall within the allowed allocation.”

The room went still.

Even Ni-ki, who had been quietly fidgeting with Sunoo’s pen, stopped. Eyes darted between you and Jay like this was the moment someone’s house would be set on fire.

Jay blinked once. Twice.

He didn’t look at the screen. He didn’t need to.

His lips curled into a frown. “Noted,” he muttered, switching slides.

Still, you turned your eyes back to your phone with the same calmness as before, like correcting him wasn’t something worth breaking a sweat over.

Because it wasn’t, not to you.

The room stayed quiet even after the meeting wrapped up, the final slide lingering on the monitor like it was scared to leave before Jay did.

Jungwon began to close his notes, his mate already standing from her seat on the far end of the table. Without skipping a beat, she turned toward you with a practiced smile and a glint of urgency in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, sliding her phone across the table to you, screen lit up with soft pastel colors and a fresh Louis Vuitton collection, “they finally dropped the new ribbon line. I’ve been waiting for this for weeks. You’re going to love this on, it’d look so good with your white blouse and that nude gloss you wore the other day.”

You blinked—just once—before your eyes lit up, your sharp features softening into something more playful as you leaned in. “Wait, that’s the one you mentioned at brunch? I thought they delayed the release?”

Jungwon’s mate grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction, and shot her Alpha a subtle wink as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Jungwon, who’d been standing by the head of the table with a clipboard in hand, caught the look and smiled faintly

Jay had stayed seated for a beat longer than usual, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. The low buzz of post-meeting chatter picked up as if nothing had happened, but the muscles in his jaw hadn’t quite relaxed.

You were too busy comparing satin tones with the other omega, voice light and sweet, like you hadn’t just called out one of the most feared Alphas in the room mid-meeting.

Then his voice cut through the chatter like a knife. Low, firm, utterly annoyed.

“We need to go. That report for the R&D proposal isn’t going to fix itself.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, just pushed the door open halfway and walked out like the air in the room wasn’t worth breathing anymore.

The moment it clicked shut behind him, you blinked twice and muttered under your breath, loud enough for the right people to hear, “What an absolute dickhead.”

Heeseung’s mate laughed, hand immediately flying up to her lips, trying and failing to mask her laugh. Sunghoon’s mate nudged her sharply, eyes wide with warning, but even she had her knuckles pressed to her mouth to keep the giggle down.

You, ever the picture of grace, turned back to your girls with a polished smile and the kind of voice used at press conferences.

“Ladies, I’ll see you all tomorrow—don’t forget to reserve our usual table, alright?”

They nodded, still stifling laughter.

You leaned forward, placed polite air kisses on each of their cheeks, then straightened your skirt and flipped your hair over one shoulder with the elegance of someone about to chase after a walking migraine.

Then, with a sharp turn, your smile dropped. You stared down the half-open door like it insulted your entire lineage.

“God give me strength,” you mumbled under your breath, and scowled as you followed the retreating figure of Jay.

The two of you descended from the pristine council wing toward the private university parking lot, which gleamed with rows of high-end luxury vehicles.

Jay walked ahead like the world owed him something, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his white button-up rumpled, the two top few buttons left undone, hair tousled in that deliberately careless way, and his scent…

It had been faint earlier, he was clearly trying to suppress it—but now that you were outside, the sharp, rich scent of sandalwood and tequila started bleeding through.

It lingered in the air, bitter at the edges as his irritation was slipping through in whispers.

“You’re coming over,” Jay said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snapped to the back of his head. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t even slow down. “To my house. We’ve got to fix the R&D layouts. I’m not failing just because you’re allergic to being useful.”

You scoffed. “I’ll send my revisions through email. You don’t need me breathing the same air.”

Jay turned his head just slightly, his lips curling into that condescending smirk that made your blood boil. “I already called your dad.”

Your steps halted. “You what?”

“I called him.” He stopped too, finally facing you with the kind of confidence that only someone who knew they were always five moves ahead could have. “He said—and I quote—‘Of course, anything for my favorite son.’”

Your entire body went rigid.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t trust yourself to. But your glare? Sharp enough to slice diamonds.

Jay’s smirk grew. “Aw. Don’t look so hurt.”

You pushed past him, determined to put space between you and his smug little existence, but fate, or something far more dramatic—had other plans.

The moment you spotted your car—your custom pearl-white Porsche Panamera GTS, trimmed in gold accents; your stomach dropped.

Both of your front tires were flat. Completely.

You blinked and looked again, still flat.

“What the actual fuck?”

Jay’s quiet, amused chuckle cut through your spiraling thoughts like a dagger. “Damn. Looks like you’re out of luck, princess.”

You turned toward him slowly. “If you had anything to do with this—”

“I didn’t,” he said immediately, voice too casual. “I don’t have time to sabotage your Barbie car. Besides, why would I? You’re already being forced into my passenger seat.”

He clicked his keys, and his black Ferrari 812 Superfast lit up like a siren call from hell. Powerful and loud, just like him.

You straightened your spine, clenching your jaw. “I could call a driver.”

Jay leaned back against his hood, crossing his arms. “Sure. Call him. He’ll get here in, what, forty minutes? An hour? Long enough for me to finish the whole thing myself and tell your dad you flaked.”

You inhaled deeply through your nose. The bitter twist in his scent was stronger now, like the burn of tequila was stronger. He was annoyed. And suppressing it. He could’ve easily let his Alpha pheromones flood out, scare you off. But he didn’t.

Not because he respected you.

Because he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of reacting.

“I hate you,” you said, voice dripping with venom.

Jay opened the passenger door like a damn chauffeur. “Get in.”

You stared at him for a moment. The door. The smirk. The scent. The absolute nerve of him.

Then you huffed, stepped forward with the grace of a practiced heiress, and climbed into the car like it offended you to touch it.

Jay slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine roared to life.

So did the silence.

So did the tension.

The hum of the Ferrari’s engine was a low, luxurious growl as it sped down the private road, headlights slicing through the evening haze. Inside, the silence was suffocating, except for the occasional click of the turn signal and the quiet sound of leather shifting under your movements.

You sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed on the window like you could pretend Jay didn’t exist a foot away.

But unfortunately, he did. In his own school uniform, shirt sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, tie tossed into the backseat, collar unbuttoned like the world bent to him instead of the other way around.

“You’re still handling the KBC merger reports?” he asked eventually, his tone low and clipped.

You didn’t look at him. “Obviously. My dad would have my head if I dropped the ball.”

Jay’s jaw flexed, one hand tightening on the wheel. “Yeah, mine too. Legacy, bloodlines, whatever. Apparently, being born rich means your life isn’t yours.”

You scoffed, brushing invisible lint off your pleated skirt. “At least they’re not trying to marry you off to some desperate heir from a dying charter airline.”

Jay’s head snapped toward you, just for a second. A twitch in his brow. A deeper furrow in his jaw. The kind of tension that wasn’t all anger but wasn’t calm either.

“What?” you muttered, catching the change.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes on the road. “Nothing. It's just stupid.”

The silence came again, colder now.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter. “It’s not like I’d ever say yes anyway.”

“Neither would I,” he said quickly, sharper than intended. Then he added, almost to himself, “Even if they tried.”

Another pause.

“Because you’re the golden boy,” you muttered.

Jay let out a humorless laugh. “Golden boys don’t get choices. They just get told who to be and when.”

You finally looked at him, eyes narrowing. “You are such a self-righteous ass.”

“And you’re a know-it-all omega with a god complex.”

Your lips twitched, annoyance blooming into something more twisted. “Still predictable, I see.”

“So are you,” he said, glancing at you sideways. “Still impossible.”

The silence that followed wasn’t calm. It simmered. Buzzed.

Because you weren’t just heirs to multi-billion dollar aviation empires—you were rivals. Old friends turned competitors.

You knew how he tapped his thumb against the steering wheel when he was deep in thought. He knew you always stared out the window when you were trying not to say something you’d regret.

You’d grown up together—vacation homes, shared private jet rides to summit meetings, side-by-side seats at galas and charity auctions. Him: the sharp-tongued pureblooded Alpha with the perfect face and a reputation that couldn’t be touched. You: the picture-perfect omega with a brain that could out-deal most adults in the boardroom.

But somewhere along the way, the teasing soured. The closeness cracked. And now, here you were, two loaded weapons in high-end school uniforms and too much shared history.

Jay pulled up to the gates of the Park estate, and even that was overkill.

Black wrought iron, towering and laced with gold detailing. The Park family crest—two outstretched wings around a crown that was stamped on the gate’s center. Guards in sleek black uniforms stood at attention on either side, already confirming Jay’s identity through biometric scanners built into the intercom posts.

The gates peeled open with a soft mechanical hum, revealing a winding driveway that looked more like a runway. Perfectly sculpted hedges ran along either side, interspersed with glowing path lights and imported pines.

The Park mansion wasn’t just big, it was power incarnate.

Limestone and ivory stone. Classical architecture with steel accents. Towering windows, slate rooftops, and a line of vintage jet turbine sculptures flanking the entry path. A private helipad lay just beyond the side courtyard. The entire estate was surrounded by land: quiet, cold, expensive.

Jay parked neatly at the base of the steps, but instead of grabbing his door first, he moved with quiet precision. You barely had time to touch your seatbelt before he was already out of the car and rounding the front.

You blinked as your door swung open.

Jay stood there, not meeting your eyes. One hand on the door, the other shoved into his pocket. His jaw was locked. His eyes fixed on the trees ahead, not you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chivalry? From you? Again?”

“I’m not a monster,” he muttered.

You stepped out, ignoring the subtle warmth that hit your cheeks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He let the door close behind you with a soft click. Then, voice dry and low, he added, “My mother didn’t raise a savage. I know how to handle an omega.”

You turned, fixing your uniform ribbon as you looked him dead in the eye. “Good. Handle yourself first.”

Jay’s lip twitched, whether it was a smirk or a sneer, you weren’t sure—and then he was already walking past you, up the stairs.

The massive front doors of the Park estate opened with a soft click the moment Jay reached them, as if the house itself recognized him.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beyond the threshold, gleaming under the glow of the chandelier above. The foyer was immaculate—pristine white walls, polished gold accents, and fresh lilies arranged delicately in a glass vase near the staircase. The air smelled like jasmine, aged oak, and old money.

Jay stepped in first, face unreadable, his blazer now slung lazily over one shoulder. You followed, brushing invisible dust from your pleated skirt.

Despite the animosity that practically radiated off Jay, he slowed his pace just enough to reach back and open the door for you, eyes flat and uninterested.

“Don’t read into it,” he muttered before you could even say thank you. “My mom didn’t raise a monster.”

“You sure?” you hummed back, voice laced with annoyance.

Before either of you could say more, a warm, familiar voice called from deeper inside the estate.

“Ah! Ms. (Y/N), welcome back!”

You turned to find Mr. Cho, the family’s long-time butler, walking towards you with a small, respectful smile. He took your bag as naturally as if he did this daily. “Shall I prepare your usual tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“She doesn’t live here,” Jay muttered.

Mr. Cho remained unfazed. “Of course not, Master Jay. I was merely offering Ms. (Y/N) our hospitality. She always enjoyed the Kyoto chamomile.”

“Still does,” you added with a soft smile.

As Mr. Cho disappeared, a young maid passed by and paused when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/N)! I’ll have the blueberry cheesecake sent to the living room, just like last time.”

You blinked. “You still remember?”

“Of course! You always said it helped you focus during study sessions.”

Jay looked like he was physically restraining himself from exploding. The staff adored you. Genuinely. Fully. And not in the polite, distant way they treated him, but with familiarity. Like they cared.

And unfortunately for Jay, things only got worse.

A pair of footsteps echoed from the top of the spiral stairs. “Jay, darling—”

You turned just as Mrs. Park appeared at the landing. She was elegant in a soft blue silk dress, simple and flowing, sleeves delicately cuffed with pearl buttons. Her makeup was fresh, understated, and her smile lit up the room when she saw you.

“(Y/N)!” she practically sang. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise!”

You bowed your head slightly. “Good evening, Mrs. Park.”

Jay’s shoulders visibly tensed. “Mom.”

His mother didn’t even look at him. She descended the stairs with grace and opened her arms, embracing you warmly. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful. And that uniform on you—still so well-kept! You always take care of yourself.”

You smiled, still polite but not overly so. “You look amazing, ma’am. That dress is beautiful.”

She laughed, lightly patting your cheek. “Oh, this old thing? Thank you, dear. It’s one of my favorites, you like it?”

“I do, actually,” you said, fingers brushing the hem with admiration. “I’ve been looking for something similar. It’s the kind of style I’d wear even outside formal events.”

That made her beam. “You’ve always had taste. You’re so much like me when I was your age.”

Jay nearly gagged.

The conversation flowed naturall. It was as if you belonged in the Park household more than he did. Mrs. Park looped her arm through yours and began walking with you toward the living room.

“You know,” she said with a not-so-subtle glint in her eyes, “you’d make such a wonderful daughter-in-law.”

You choked on air.

Jay stopped walking entirely. “Mom—”

“I mean it! You’re smart, elegant, and you carry yourself so well. Our family just adores you, (Y/N). Don’t we?”

As if summoned, one of the estate's gardeners who’d come in to drop off fresh flowers—paused by the doorway. “Miss (Y/N)? Always so kind. The roses you suggested for the east garden look stunning now.”

You nodded, cheeks heating. “I’m glad they turned out well.”

Jay looked ready to combust. His jaw clenched. His eye twitched.

“She’s not here for dinner,” he reminded sharply. “She’s just here to make sure I don’t flunk some projects.”

You smiled sweetly at the older woman. “A job I take very seriously.”

His mother waved him off with a laugh. “Yes, yes. Academics. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know each other better, hmm?”

You chuckled nervously, but before the topic could spin further into dangerous territory, Jay suddenly called, “(Y/N).”

You glanced over. His tone was flat, but his eyes were sharp. “We should start,” he said.

You cleared your throat, nodding. “Of course.”

You didn’t rush after him. Of course you didn’t. You just turned to Mrs. Park with a polite nod and a small smile, excusing yourself with the grace of someone who had no interest in chasing after a moody boy.

Jay’s footsteps were already fading down the hallway as you began walking like the floor belonged to you too. Head held high. Skirt swaying. If he was going to call you princess, you’d damn well wear the crown.

By the time you stepped into the sitting room, the warm golds of the afternoon had dimmed into bluer hues, early evening creeping in with a hush. The chandelier above glowed brighter now, casting a soft sheen over everything, from the velvet couches to the massive coffee table between you and Jay.

He was already on the floor, back against the couch, legs spread like he owned the room, laptop balanced on one knee. He didn’t look at you when you entered, just clicked his pen and muttered, “Took you long enough.”

You dropped your bag on the opposite side of the table with just enough force to make a point. “I don’t run for anyone. You should know that by now.”

“I forgot,” he replied dryly. “Princesses don’t hurry after all.”

You sat down slowly, folding your legs beneath you with practiced poise, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt before pulling out your notes. “And crownless boys don’t get to comment on royalty.”

Jay looked up at you then, eyebrows arching. “That supposed to hurt?”

“No,” you said sweetly, flipping your folder open, “just a reminder.”

Between you, the oversized coffee table gleamed. A silver tray sat in the center, stacked with delicate desserts and a fresh pot of tea. You reached out carefully, nudging a teacup to the side to make space for your things.

Jay scoffed, eyeing the setup. “Of course she pulled out the royal treatment. Blueberry cheesecake, fresh tea… should’ve just set the dining table while she was at it.”

“She’s being kind,” you replied, tone cool, but your fingers tapped once against the table. “Something you could try once in a while.”

“I’m not fake,” he snapped. “And I don’t kiss ass to people who walk in like they already belong here.”

You looked up at him then, full stare. “You think I’m kissing ass?”

Jay met your eyes without flinching. “I think you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

You smiled, all teeth and ice. “Maybe that’s because I don’t sulk through life like a kicked puppy, Park.”

He barked a laugh. “You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“No,” you said, pulling your textbook into your lap, “if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you.”

Jay reached forward without warning, sliding the cheesecake slightly closer to your side.

You blinked. “What, is this a peace offering?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, not looking at you. “You’re just less annoying when your mouth is full.”

You let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh. “Right. That ego of yours must need hourly feeding too, huh?”

Jay didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

Because the silence that followed said enough.

It had been quiet. Too quiet.

Three hours in, and the tension that once burned like a wildfire had simmered into something else, maybe it was an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion.

Papers were scattered between you both. The once-pristine coffee table was now a war zone of half-solved equations, scribbled graphs, and open textbooks stacked like makeshift barricades.

The cake was mostly gone, your teacup emptied long ago. Even the silver fork had been abandoned at some point, lazily resting on a napkin with a streak of blueberry at the tip.

Jay was deep into the budget projections for next quarter, fingers tapping steadily against the keyboard of his laptop—when he suddenly paused.

Something felt off.

He frowned.

You usually threw in some sarcastic comment every twenty minutes. A jab at his handwriting. A smug comment about how even your cat could organize files better. A dramatic gasp every time he actually agreed with your suggestions.

Jay glanced sideways, and there you were.

Head resting on your folded arms, body slumped slightly forward. Breathing even. Completely still.

Your hair had slipped over your cheek, and the soft chandelier lighting caught on the curve of your nose, the edge of your lashes, the way your lips were ever so slightly parted in sleep. The rise and fall of your shoulders was slow and steady, peaceful in a way that didn’t match your usual fire. Even the stubborn furrow of your eyebrows had softened.

Jay stared for a second too long.

He narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to find a reason to roll them. But nothing came out of his mouth. No insult. No complaint.

Just a long, sharp sigh.

Because for fuck’s sake, even asleep, you had to look—ethereal. And worst of all? You looked peaceful. Something he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He set the laptop down on the table with a soft click, leaned back, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, like it was your fault for being like this.

Then, with ease, Jay reached behind him, tugged his blazer off the couch, and stood. The fabric slid over his shoulder in one swift motion, and without a single dramatic exhale, he walked over to your side of the coffee table.

Each step was careful. Silent. Like the heir of one of the most powerful families in the country hadn’t just decided to play blanket-boy for the rival heiress who haunted his every waking moment.

He paused when he reached you, and watched just a second more.

Then he draped the blazer over your shoulders with slow, precise hands—adjusting it so the collar covered the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

And right when he was about to back away, you moved.

Jay froze. Held in a breath.

His hand stilled mid-air as your body instinctively curled further into the warmth. One soft nuzzle, and then…

You sighed contentedly.

Right into his blazer.

He stared like you’d just committed a crime.

He finally took a step back—reluctantly—and returned to his seat with a scowl trying to eat his face.

You weren’t supposed to be unguarded, you were supposed to be a brat—his bratty little academic babysitter.

Jay sighed again, loudly this time.

About thirty minutes later, you stirred.

It started slow. A flicker of your lashes. A barely-there shift in your breathing. A little crease between your brows as your body tried to figure out why it felt suspiciously cozy in the middle of an air-conditioned mansion that usually felt like the inside of a freezer.

You blinked, sluggish and dazed, slowly dragging yourself out of sleep. The world was quiet, too quiet. Just the faint hum of the AC, the occasional distant clink of dishware.

But more importantly—you were warm.

Your brain stalled. That… wasn’t right.

You shifted slightly and felt the weight of something thick and heavy draped over your shoulders. Your brows furrowed. And then—you inhaled.

And you knew.

The scent hit you like a truck—clean, sharp cologne, with his scent of cedarwood and tequila, something undeniably Alpha, something that was not yours, and it curled through your lungs like a goddamn curse.

Park Jongseong.

No. No, no, no.

You sat up an inch, heart hammering in your chest as your gaze dropped to the dark blazer now resting over your frame. His blazer. Neatly placed.

“What the f—” You didn’t even finish the curse. You were too busy spiraling.

When did he do this? Why did he do this? Was this a pity move? A trap? Was he trying to prove some twisted point? That he could be thoughtful or soft or human?

God, you hated him.

You hated that your first instinct was to pull it tighter around yourself because the warmth was just that comforting. You hated that it smelled like him, and that it wasn’t disgusting. You hated that your cheeks were warm and you didn’t know if it was the blazer or the mortifying realization that he’d seen you asleep and had the audacity to care.

You glared at it like it personally betrayed you.

You wanted to chuck it across the room, you wanted to march over to him and kick him in the shin with your heels, you wanted to scream and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing being—decent.

But just as you sat up, ready to commit violence, your gaze lifted—Jay was asleep.

Head down on the table the same way you had been minutes ago, lips parted just slightly, one arm bent awkwardly under his head, the other still loosely holding onto the edge of his laptop. His brows, usually furrowed in perpetual annoyance or superiority, were finally relaxed. His sharp jaw was tilted your way, soft in sleep, like even gravity didn’t dare ruin his symmetry.

And for a second—you stared, and God, He was gorgeous.

His dark blonde hair had fallen slightly over his forehead, just messy enough to make your stomach twist in frustration. His eyelashes were too long to be fair, brushing softly against his cheeks. His lips were tinted that stupid natural pink, curved in a way that would be charming if he wasn’t, well, him. His nose—the one you had once insulted out of spite for being too perfect, was somehow even more annoying up close.

The kind of beautiful that was cinematic.

The kind of beautiful that made your blood boil because it was attached to a man you actively fantasized about strangling.

You pressed your fingers to your temple, sighing quietly, mind racing with a war of contradicting thoughts.

You were this close—this close—to standing up and throwing the jacket at his face like a grenade. But your body betrayed you and stayed seated, clutching the fabric instead, heart still hammering.

This couldn’t be happening, he was Park Jongseong.

You groaned softly into your hands, blazer still wrapped around your shoulders like some cursed reminder of your ongoing descent into hell.

You had to leave.

Not because you were done. Not because you had calmed down. But because something about sitting here, wrapped in his blazer, watching him sleep, made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t want to name. Something dangerous.

You didn’t do dangerous with Jay.

You did rivalry. Snark. Academic warfare. Arguments with sharp tongues and bitten-back smirks.

Not… this.

So, you moved.

As quietly as you could, you pulled away from the coffee table, the plush rug soft under your heels. You began packing up your things—the papers, the scattered pens, the flash drive you had almost forgotten. You glanced over at Jay once, just to make sure he was still sleeping. He hadn’t moved. Still slumped over the table like he was seconds away from snoring.

Then you reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the blazer still wrapped around your shoulders.

Returning it now would be the decent thing to do.

Which was exactly why you didn’t do it.

If you handed it back now, it would be simple. Done. Over.

But if you left with it? Oh, he’d hate it.

He’d hate that it would come back smelling like your expensive perfume—the one you wore to events just to piss off old men who said women should dress modestly and stay silent.

The one you wore like a weapon. Sweet, intoxicating, with a cold bite underneath. A perfect contrast to your scent-blockers, which left your natural scent unreadable by anyone—even him.

So yes, you were going to bring the blazer home.

Dry clean it? Of course. You weren’t a monster.

Smiling faintly, you folded the blazer over your arm and reached into your tote bag for a notepad. You scribbled something quickly, your handwriting elegant and infuriatingly neat.

You placed the note where his laptop used to be and glanced at him one last time. He was still dead asleep. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course you sleep like a rock when I actually have something to say,” you muttered under your breath.

With that, you turned on your heel and left the room.

You made your way through the quiet mansion, heels ticking softly against the polished floor, the gentle hum of the chandelier casting warm light over the entrance hall. The foyer was peaceful, bathed in a mellow amber glow that clung to the air like honey.

Jay’s mother sat near the base of the staircase, a tablet resting on her lap, glasses perched delicately on her nose. She looked up when she heard you, her expression instantly brightening.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” she asked, her voice soft but touched with disappointment.

You nodded politely, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. It’s gotten pretty late, and I didn’t want to wake Jay. He looked… like he needed the sleep.”

She smiled knowingly. “He always overworks himself. But I was hoping you might stay a little longer.”

You blinked, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Of course.” She stood, placing the tablet aside and walking over to you, her lips curled slightly. “Your banter kept the house interesting today.”

You chuckled, genuinely this time. “I’m sure Jay would say otherwise.”

She reached out and gently pulled you into a light hug, arms warm and motherly around your shoulders. You stiffened for half a second, caught off-guard… and then relaxed. It was nice. Disarming. Familiar in a way that scraped against the icy corners you usually kept up.

You pulled back with a soft, genuine smile. “Thank you. For the tea. And the cake.”

She laughed lightly. “Come by again. Preferably when he’s less cranky.”

You grinned at that, nodding once. “No promises.” Then, ou stepped out into the evening.

Your driver opened the car door as you approached, holding it just long enough for you to slide in without needing to break stride. As you settled in, you kept Jay’s blazer folded neatly on your lap, fingers idly running over the fabric.

The car pulled away from the estate, disappearing into the night.

Back in the living room, Jay stirred.

His head ached in the weird, groggy way it always did after falling asleep at a desk. He sat up slowly, blinking at the dimmed lights and the stretch of silence around him.

Something felt off.

His eyes scanned the room. The papers had been tidied. Your bag was gone. And so was his blazer.

Then—he spotted the note.

Right where his laptop had been, placed delicately like a landmine dressed in silk.

He picked it up, already exhaling like he was bracing for a slap.

thanks for your stinky blazer, shit head. returning it ASAP. don’t miss me. — (l/n)

His jaw ticked.

“Stinky—are you fucking serious—”

He stopped, the words were ridiculous. Petty. Absolutely you. The handwriting? Annoyingly perfect. Not a single letter out of place.

Jay scowled, letting the paper crumple slightly in his hand.

But then, his scowl faltered.

It softened, not into anything gentle, but into a low, frustrated frown. The kind that twisted deep between his brows and lingered. He leaned back in his seat, note still in hand, blazer gone, and a sudden, unwanted awareness in his chest.

You’d worn his blazer. And you’d taken it with you.

His eyes slid to the spot where you’d been curled up not even an hour ago.

And then they narrowed.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

He stared at the note for another few seconds.

And then he folded it. Neatly. Slid it under his laptop.

He’d burn it later. Maybe.

Jay was spiraling.

Which was ridiculous, really, because Park Jongseong did not spiral. He was composed. In control. Cool, collected, cold even, especially when it came to you.

But as he stepped out of his sleek black car, designer shoes clicking against the pavement of the academy’s private parking lot, his jaw clenched. His usually sharp mind was fogged up with one thing and one thing only: you still had his blazer.

His personal, custom-fit, dry-clean-only, still-drenched-in-his-scent blazer.

And not just handed to you. No. He had fucking placed it over your shoulders like some old-school, gentlemanly, possessive courting maneuver from a textbook.

Which, in Alpha society, it kind of was.

His inner Alpha had been screaming about it since the moment he stepped out of the shower that morning. The memory hit him like a train—the sight of you curled up, breathing evenly, his blazer slipping slightly down your arm as you unconsciously pulled it closer. His scent wrapped around you.

He stopped walking. Just for a second. Just enough for his eyes to flutter shut and for him to mutter under his breath, “Shit.”

Then he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and shoved the panic down where he shoved everything else he didn’t want to deal with. You probably still had i. Or worse, you were going to return it drenched in your expensive perfume, just to rub salt in the wound.

His hate for you burned hotter.

By the time he reached the student council wing, his expression was blank again. He adjusted the strap of his bag, reached for the door to the council room—and paused.

There were voices inside. Heated ones.

He slowly pushed one of the double wooden doors open only to be met by the searing glare of Jake’s mate.

Usually the quiet one. Reserved. Soft-spoken. But right now? Absolutely fuming.

She was already standing, arms crossed so tight it looked painful, expression twisted in something close to betrayal under the soft chandelier light.

“Jay, I thought you hated (Y/N)?”

Jay blinked. “I do.”

“Then why the actual fuck would you give her your blazer?!”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it.

She stormed a few steps closer, each one heavier with rage.

“That’s a courting gesture, you moron! That’s like waving a giant flag in Alpha society! Do you not think before you act? Or did your brain short-circuit the moment she looked remotely human to you?”

Jake, from behind her, threw his hands up like a hostage. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this. She’s gonna kill me, man. Don’t even look at me.”

Jay stared at him. “Get your girl.”

Jake shook his head even faster. “Hell no.”

“You do realize stepping into an omega’s wrath is like signing a death warrant, right?” Heeseung added lazily from the couch, sipping his coffee with a smirk. “Might as well start drafting your will.”

Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he shared a look with Heeseung that said it all.

Jay dragged a hand down his face and sighed heavily, the ache behind his temples pulsing stronger with each passing second. “This is all your fault,” he muttered.

Jake’s mate’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My fault?”

Jay gestured vaguely toward the air, the universe, toward you—wherever the hell you were. “Yes. Yours. Hers. Everyone’s.”

She looked ready to lunge at him.

Jay turned on his heel and strode right back out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, “Unbelievable.”

The door thudded shut behind him, muffling the noise.

The afternoon sun poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching in the glossy floors as you walked side-by-side with Heeseung’s mate, laughing about something stupid from earlier that morning.

“Seriously though,” she giggled, bumping her shoulder lightly against yours, “you and that old history teacher— I thought he was gonna combust when you corrected him in front of the whole class.”

You laughed, bright and easy, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Not my fault I actually read the assigned chapters.”

She snorted, tossing you a fond look. “You’re dangerous.”

You grinned back. “Tell that to Park. He still thinks I’m a walking plague.”

Unknowingly, you and Heeseung’s mate stole every pair of eyes in the hall.

Heads turned. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. It was impossible not to notice the two of you—two Omegas, looking every bit the part, effortless and untouchable, with unreal beauty and an almost unfair kind of perfection. Every step you took seemed to hum with power, the kind that made even passing Alphas stop in their tracks just to get another look.

Jay caught sight of you just as he rounded the corner, heading lazily toward the vending machines.

He told himself to keep walking. To pretend he hadn’t seen you.

But the second Heeseung’s mate chirped something about using the bathroom and peeled off with a wave, leaving you alone—he moved.

In three long strides, he was in front of you. You barely had time to blink before his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“Hey!” you protested, yanking instinctively, but his grip was iron, burning against your skin.

“What the hell, Park—”

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath, casting a quick glance down the hall where classroom doors remained closed and the faint sound of teachers’ voices carried through the cracks. Without waiting, he dragged you with him, your heels skidding against the marble as you struggled to dig your heels in.

“Let me go!” you seethed, twisting in his grasp. “You’re insane—!”

Jay didn't spare you even a look. He hauled you to the very end of the corridor, shoving you back behind one of the thick stone pillars that lined the old architecture of the school.

You stumbled, slamming into the cold stone, only to find Jay caging you in, one hand pressed hard against the pillar beside your head, the other still wrapped tight around your wrist.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, glaring up at him.

Jay’s eyes were burning—not with heat, but with something more violent. Dark, furious. Dangerous.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

You blinked. “Where’s what?”

“My blazer,” he gritted out. His gaze flickered down your figure, eyes narrowing when he saw the clean navy blue blazeryou were wearing —your own—instead of the one he had forced on you last night. His jaw tensed so hard it could’ve been carved from stone.

A laugh tore out of your throat.

“Ohhh,” you drawled mockingly. “That.” You leaned back against the pillar, smirking up at him. “I left it in the council room hours ago.”

“You’d know that if you actually showed up for your own responsibilities instead of lurking around like a damn creep,” you said sweetly, dripping venom with every word.

Something flickered dangerously in his gaze. His hand slammed harder against the stone, right by your ear, but you didn’t even flinch.

If anything, you pushed closer, close enough to catch the faintest trace of his scent still clinging to your skin, stubborn even after all these hours.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jay muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Right back at you, Park,” you sneered. “Next time you want to play knight in shining armor, pick someone who actually wants your damn jacket.”

Jay’s breathing was harsh, every muscle in his body visibly tense. “You think you know everything, don't you?" he bit out.

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you hate me. And guess what, Park? I hate you more.”

The tension between you two was electric, suffocating, so thick you could practically taste the anger rolling off him in waves. Your heart hammered in your chest—not from fear, but from the pure adrenaline of it all.

His gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest, most dangerous second.

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

Finally, with a furious, muttered curse under his breath, Jay ripped himself away from you like you physically burned him, storming down the hall without another word.

You stayed leaning against the pillar for a second longer, catching your breath, a small, wicked smirk curling on your lips.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself off the cold stone with a deep breath, smoothing down your skirt like it could fix the way your blood was still rushing hot under your skin.

You turned the corner—and there she was, Heeseung’s mate leaning casually against the wall, waiting exactly where she said she would.

She didn’t say a word when her eyes landed on you. Just smiled softly and reached out, fingers deft as she adjusted the ribbon tied at the back of your head.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice light but her gaze a little too knowing.

You just smiled, slow and sweet, like you weren’t still shaking a little on the inside. “Perfect,” you lied easily, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you for a second, but said nothing else. Only slipped her arm through yours again, guiding you both back down the hallway toward your next class.

The council room was packed.

The long conference table overflowed with council members and their mates—Heeseung and his omega tucked close together at one end, Jungwon whispering something that made his mate giggle, Jake and his tossing casual grins across the table, Sunghoon lounging like a king with his arm slung behind his omega's chair.

Even Sunoo’s mate was there, perched elegantly beside you.

The air was thick with bodies, with heat, with the buzzing undercurrent of alphas, betas, and omegas crowding too close.

But you only saw one person. Jay.

You sat poised, the sharp line of your jaw held high, your nails—perfectly manicured, painted a sleek, mocking black; tapping against the folder in front of you.

You stared at him like you could set him on fire.

And Jay—that cocky bastard, barely spared you a glance.

Sunoo’s mate leaned toward you, voice soft. “Hey, Y/n. After this, can you help me with the decorations list—?”

“Of course,” you answered smoothly, your tone light and sweet, but your eyes never once left Jay.

You watched as he lazily flipped a page, jaw ticking ever so slightly.

He knew you caught the mistake in the proposal you worked on together, the one he touched last without telling you.

You could practically feel the smugness radiating off him, like he thought it wasn’t a big deal.

It was a big deal. And you wanted to gut him for it.

Jungwon’s voice rang loud and clear from the head of the table, “Meeting adjourned.”

Chairs screeched against the marble floor instantly, papers shuffled, and the whole council meeting room turned into a buzzing hive of motion and noise as everyone started packing up.

And just when it should’ve ended neatly—

Jay pushed off his chair with a lazy, almost predatory grace. Slamming his palm hard enough against the table that several people jumped, including you, though you masked it behind a lazy blink.

Heads whipped towards him.

Jay just smiled—that slow, confident, devastating smile that made you want to slap it off his face with your perfectly manicured hand.

“Party at my place tomorrow night,” he announced, voice booming across the council room like thunder.

“Bring everyone. Seniors, juniors—hell, bring half the damn school if you want. I want it packed.”

A collective gasp, then a loud eruption of cheers and whistles filled the air.

Someone from the Public Relations Committee actually banged a fist on the table in excitement. Another kid from Jungwon’s group whooped so loudly, it startled Heeseung.

Jake whistled low and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders, grinning wide. Ni-ki immediately started planning out a playlist with two of the juniors trailing behind him like excited puppies.

Sunoo’s mate leaned in to whisper something excitedly into your ear about outfits—but your eyes stayed locked only on Jay. You barely heard anything over the roaring in your blood.

Jay wasn’t looking at anyone else. He was looking straight at you, one brow cocked high like a fucking challenge, daring you to say something.

The way he stood there, hands in his pockets, broad shoulders soaking up every ounce of attention in the room like he owned it—like he owned you.

You felt your jaw clench so tight your teeth ached.

Jay’s smirk grew wider.

He was baiting you, he wanted you angry, he thrived off it.

You lifted your chin higher, giving him a lazy, mocking once-over, from his disheveled tie down to the way his expensive shoes tapped against the marble floor like he couldn't stand still.

Jay’s smile faltered for half a second.

Sunoo’s mate nudged you, beaming. “What are you wearing to the party?”

Without tearing your glare away from Jay, you answered smoothly, “Whatever works.” Your voice was sweet as syrup but your eyes spat venom across the room at the boy you hated most.

Jay’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a slow, dangerous movement that made your stomach twist—in rage.

He tilted his head at you, smirking wider, like he was thinking the exact same thing.

The room swirled with laughter and plans and wild energy, but right then, it felt like only you and him existed.

Two storms waiting to crash into each other.

And when he finally tore his gaze away to clap Jungwon on the back and bark out something about making it the best party of the year.

You were left standing there, fuming, heart racing, hands trembling slightly from the effort it took to keep yourself composed.

The war had just begun.

And Jay had just thrown the first grenade.

⤷ read part 2 here !

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i

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randofics · 3 months ago

Text

Pain and Warmth pt.1

🎶 The Midnight- Vampires

🎶 Deftones- Beauty School (slowed + reverb)

Dante Sparda x F reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, details of menstrual cycle, medication usage, L-word

Link to Dante x F reader Headcannons

16+

18+ if you squint

I finished the entire first season in 2 days, yall! I also get that it's not lore accurate in some aspects, but it's not really supposed to be. It's the director and wrighters interpretation. While I personally have never played the games, I did watch someone play a few years ago, along with watching the other anime adaptation (which I love dearly). Hopefully, I did this adaptation justice in this fic.

----------

As you walked to Dantes, place your cramps were getting serious. You'd have to take some ibuprofen when you got there. You huffed and puffed, trying to breathe through the pain as you finally made it to his doorstep.

You knock without much effort before just opening the door to let yourself in. You force out his name and hear his snoring stop with a snort.

As you pass the threshold into the room, he greets you. "Hey y/n! How's it going..." He trails off when he sees you. You're a bit unsteady on your feet, still panting with droopy eyes and your glasses slipping down your nose.

You cross the room to his side before he gets up, and you set your bag on the desk, pulling out your medicine bag. Taking an ibuprofen from the bottle, you pop it in your mouth and steal his soda from the desk to swallow it down. "Hey, that's my soda!"

"You give him a glare he's never seen on you before that shuts him up." He puts his hands up as he props his feet on the desk behind you again. You look at him analyzing something which he tilts his head at. "What is it?"

Suddenly, you're sitting in his lap, and he freezes as you lay against his chest. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"Ibuprofen won't work right away. Need warmth to stem the pain." Your shortened phrasing gives tell of the level of pain you're in. Suddenly, you grab his hand and slip it into the top of your pants, laying it over your abdomen. You sigh when the heat soakes into your skin.

He blushes, looking anywhere but at you. This is all so sudden! Are you in so much pain that you don't even care that it's HIM you're sitting on with HIS hand pressed against your bare skin!? He's freaking out internally. But suddenly, there's a scent in his nose. It's unmistakable yet tinged with something unfamiliar.

"You're bleeding... why are you bleeding!?"

You hiss and growl at him when he jostles you. Giving him an even more intense glare. "Stay still, Dante... or I swear I'll tear you to shreds."

"But why are you bleeding!?"

You sigh, not wanting to keep wasting energy on speaking. "I'm on my menstrual cycle."

"Ok, yeah, I forgot about that. But why do I smell so much?"

"I'm a heavy bleeder. It's normal for me."

"Shouldn't you get checked out for that, though? That doesn't seem normal to me."

"I'll schedule an appointment soon. Quit talking, I need sleep."

-------

By the time you've fallen asleep, Dante is bored out of his mind. He's already counted the cracks in the walls when there's a nock on the door. Enzo comes waltzing in.

"Hey Dante, I've got a..." Dante puts his finger to his lips with wide eyes frantically shushing him. Enzo spots you in his lap and gives Dante a knowing grin.

Dante mouths to him. "It's not like that, dude! She just jumped me!" He tries to free his other hand, but you grab hold of it, keeping it against your skin. A wave of pain hits you and you hiss. Opening your eyes, you look over at Enzo.

"Enzo my bag, please." He rounds the desk, handing you your bag, which you rummage through for another pill. "Soda." He holds it out for you, and you swallow the pill with another sip.

"Thank you, Enzo. Can you do me another favor, please?"

"Oh sure! What do ya need?"

"Call in a Subnautica Subs order for me. Italian bread with lettuce, spinach, provolone, ham, and mayo. You want anything, Dante?"

"Uh yeah, just get me the meat lover's sub."

"Dante can call you later about the job."

"How did you...?"

"Figured that's why you're here. That's usually why."

"Fair enough. See you two lovebirds later!"

You growl, but don't bother wasting your energy in retort. Dante yells after him. "I told you it's not like that!" The door clicks shut behind him.

You let out a groan, bringing his attention back to you. "I need to get up to use the restroom, but I don't wanna." He can hear the pout in your voice, and he lets a chuckle slip.

"You want me to carry you there?

"Please do." The slight bags under your eyes tell him just how drained you are as he frees his hand to scoop you up. You grab your bag on the way by.

He lets you down at the door, and you let out another uncomfortable sound, screwing your face up in a grimace.

"What is it?"

"The floodgates opened, so to speak."

He grimaced, too. "I'll wait out here for you."

"Ok, thanks, Dante."

-------

He pushes off the wall when you finally open the door. "Took a while. You ok?"

"Yeah, I had a lot of blood to clean up." As you walk past, the strong scent hits his nose along with your attempt to cover it with air freshener.

A nock on the door catches your attention. You're about to go answer it when Dante joggs past you. "Go sit down. I'll get it." You huff but a small smile cracks through your pained/irritated expression. The delivery guy hands him a bag from the restaurant. Dante hands him a few dollars and closes the door.

When he walks back into the room, he cracks a grin at you sitting in his chair. "Stealing my spot now, huh?"

"Hey, you just said to sit. You didn't specify where."

"Fair enoug.h. Here's yours." He sits against the desk beside you as he unwraps his sub, taking a bite. "Dat ibuwpofin wokin?"

You snort. "Yeah, I'm feeling a bit better now. And don't take such big bites you'll choke on it."

By the time he's finished with his, you're only halfway through yours. "Ya'know you're a real slow eater."

"Yes, I know. I prefer to savor the flavor than scarf it all down at once." You give him a pointed look. "You made a mess of yourself too." You stand boxing him in between you and the desk. "Hold still." You grip his jaw and, with your other hand, wipe the sauce from his mouth licking your thumb clean, and he glanced away.

Dante watches you put your wrapped up sub in the mini fridge. Totally not eyeing your rear before you turn back to him. He sits back in his chair, watching your fingers work circles into the skin of your lower back as your shirt rides up.

You move back over to him, and he thinks you're gonna sit across his lap like before. Instead, you straddle him. "Woah, woah, woah, what are you doing!?"

"Sittin' in your lap again."

"You-you shouldn't be straddling me!"

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you nuzzle into him. His muscles tense under you as he bites his lip, your body pressing into his. The heat from his lower stomach seeps into your abdomen.

-------

For a while, he just sits there holding his hands up awkwardly, not wanting to touch you without permission. Your voice muffled in his neck, startles him. "You can touch me, ya'know."

"Heh... I didn't want to assume." He gently lays his hands on your back.

As the time ticks by slowly, his hands start to rub circles into your back. When he adds more pressure, you practically melt into him. "A bit lower, please." He does as asked, remembering where you had massaged yourself earlier.

You let out a quiet gasp, gripping the back of his coat collar.

His hands freeze. "You ok?"

"I'm fine, keep going."

Pressing his fingers into your skin again, gently moving in circles. He sets his chin on your shoulder, letting his eyes close as he listens to your breathing.

The little pain left slowly seeps away as his fingers work across your muscles. You hold in any sounds that try to escape as you relax in his embrace.

This is probably the safest place in the world. The halfbreed demon hunter being one of the few things on earth capable of mass destruction should he choose it. And he's got you wrapped up in those demon killing arms with hands that can break bone being used to gently ease the pain in your back.

A wave of arousal washes over you. Those dang hormones surging through your body as you expel your uterine lining. You bite your lip as your mind races. What would it feel like to kiss him? Or have him kiss up your neck, leaving marks in his wake?

What if you kissed his neck right now? Would he be ok with it, or would he hate you for it?

Maybe you could just start slow? Just nuzzle under his chin.

You do just that, taking off your glasses and placing them on the desk behind you. You hook your nose under his jaw, closing your eyes as your breath tickles his neck.

His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of your breath on his skin. You pull back just enough for him to see your eyes. They're lidded and glazed over with a familiar look. He turns bright red swallowing hard.

You trail your hands down to his chest, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Getting bashful on me darlin'?" He gives you a nervous grin. Leaning back down, you place a gentle kiss on his neck.

You feel his hands slip down to your hips, and his thumbs press into the sides of your abdomen, making you wince. "Easy big boy, I'm still sore." Suddenly, he moves a hand to your face, making you look at him. In a flash, his lips are on yours. You're stunned for a moment before your eyes slip closed, and you grip the hair at the back of his head.

Your heart races in your chest. You can't believe this is actually happening! The seconds go by before he pulls away, both of you panting for breath. He gives you a calculating look before his lips press into your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other pushing beneath your shirt. You feel the fabric of his gloves scratch against you.

A small sound escapes your throat as his mouth moves across your skin. Tilting your head back for him, you pull his white locks. He sucks on your pulse, likely to leave a mark. Your back arching into him as a moan bubbles up from your throat. His hands move to your thighs, and he picks you up, making you yelp.

"Wh-what are you doing, Dante?"

"Taking you to bed so you can rest some more. Don't worry. We can have a bit more fun before we hit the hay."

This time, you blush. "But I'm still bleeding."

"We aren't gonna do that. Not that I wouldn't be down for it either way..."

You blush like a tomato. Normally, guys gag at the thought of messing around when a woman's on her period. Then again, Dante's used to blood so it wouldn't bother him as much.

-------

He closes the door behind you with his boot and lays you down gently on the bed with your head on the pillow. "Just relax and let me do all the work." You give him a nod. "Good girl." He pulls off his gloves with his teeth and slips the grey Henley over his head.

As he settles in, pushing his face into your neck, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. A pleasured groan rumbles in his throat. You feel his tongue slide across your throat, making you gasp.

His hand gently caresses over your stomach, leaving a tingling sensation in his wake. You feel his hand slip under your wasteband and around to your lower back. His fingertips press into your muscles, gently moving in circles to ease their tension. You let out a pleasured sigh, arching your back a bit.

He shifts his weight so his other hand can slip behind your upper back beneath your shirt. You feel your bra pop open, releasing tension in your back and shoulders. You let a content purr escape your lips.

"I bet that feels better, doesn't it?" His voice a low rumble in your ear makes a shiver run up your spine. He can feel the muscles twitch under his fingertips. "Good, that's all I want right, now baby." He presses featherlight kisses all across your neck and lips before moving to your stomach.

More light kisses press into your skin as you relax and enjoy his touch. His teal eyes lock with yours as he pulls down your waistband just to the top of your pubic hair. With his thumbs, he gently presses into your abdomen. "Tell me where it's most tender." He moves his thumbs inward towards the center of your abdomen.

When they graze over your ovaries and uterus, you feel a twinge of pain. "Right there, huh? Alright, I'll be gentle. Tell me if it hurts." He presses in and moves in circles only to stop when you tet out a hiss in pain. "Too much?" You mumble to him. "Ok, I won't do that again. You're just way too sore there, baby."

You sit up and move to the side of the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Taking these pants off. The waistband is putting pressure on my abdomen. I also gotta take off this bra."

"Thought you were leaving for a second."

"Not after that massage you gave me."

He pouts with a hand over his heart. "Is that all I am to you!?"

Shucking off your pants, you scoot closer to him. With a hand on his jaw, you place your forehead against his. When you lock eyes with him, you smile. "I love you, Dante." His eyes widen, mouth agape.

"You-you love me?"

"Yes, honey, I love you."

He lets out a breathy chuckle of disbelief as he processes the revelation. His cocky facade cracking as overwhelming emotions burst forth. Tears glint in his eyes as he gives you the happiest smile you've ever seen on him, holding your face in his hands.

"I-I love you too! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me!" Tears of your own drip down your cheeks as you pepper his face with kisses. You lock lips again in a kiss full of emotion and genuine love for each other.

When you pull away to breathe, he hugs you tight, and you slip your arms around him in turn. He lets go sliding one hand down your arm to hold yours while the other wipes away his tears. You both sniffle, and you can't help the yawn that overtakes you.

"Getting sleepy again?" You nod and turn your attention back to the bra you need to remove. Dante watches as you pull it from your shirt like a magic trick. "You gotta show me how you do that trick with your bra sometime."

You roll your eyes. Always so romantic. A chuckle tumbles from your mouth. He grins and lays down on the bed. "Here lay down on me, I'll massage you some more."

"I don't want to leak on you, though. Or the sheets."

"In my line of work, I get blood on stuff all the time. Trust me, it's not that big a deal if it does happen. Im practically an expert at cleaning bloodtains at this point." His reassurance soothes your worries, and you straddle him again, laying against him with your hands on his bare chest and your ear over his heart.

You notice right away that it's beating a bit fast, he's nervous. His hands land on your back, and he pulls up your shirt to reach your skin. The firm circle motion of his fingers, making your muscles relax against him. Sleep begins to weigh your eyelids down as the soothing and strong beating of his heart lulls you to sleep.

Within minutes, your breathing slows, and you're completely relaxed against him. He pulls the blanket over the both of you as he begins to feel sleepy himself. "I'm the luckiest man on Earth to have a woman like you."

With his arms wrapped protectively around you, his eyes slip closed, and for the first time in a while, he has a great night's sleep.

#devil may cry #devil may cry netflix #dmc dante #netflix series #fanfic #dante sparda x reader #dante x reader

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neeeooon · 3 months ago

Note

Hello again!! This is probably my 2nd request and please take your time on this, since you are probably busy.

But I would like to request the blue lock boys (Itoshi brothers, Reo, Kaiser, Nagi) realise they are falling in love. Like they are childhood friends and somehow they have a soft spot for the reader (like they put more effort into them, than they did for the others) but they did not realise it since they were still kids until they grew up realising they fell in love with their childhood best friend.

Thank you!!! Mwah 😘

—Stef

thank you sm for being patient ml MWAH

when they realize they’re falling in love

childhood bff bllk x gn!reader. fluff and angst, some of the boys (kaiser) refuse to accept their feelings

itoshi sae

-> you always meet up for lunch during your breaks. you got accepted for a exchange program in madrid the same year sae left to train with real, something you jokingly called fate

-> when you drop into your usual seat across from sae, already mid-rant about how you were chosen to lead an event at work, sae’s hit with an unusual feeling in his chest

-> you do this every day. sit with each other as he eats and you talk, but today feels different. your hair lays perfect. your eyes sparkle brighter. the light catches you and frames your features stunningly. something that leaves sae breathless and blushing

-> “sae? are you feeling alright?” you ask when you notice his warming face and reach other to press a palm to his forehead. “hm. you don’t feel feverish. is everything okay?”

-> he lightly bats your hand away and mumbles in reply before sliding the fries that came with his meal over to you, as usual. “fine. i’ve gotta go. text me when you leave.” and he’s gone before you can reply

-> sae leans against the locker room wall, staring off into space as he tries to force the sight of you from his mind. since when have you made him feel like this? and how can he make it stop

itoshi rin

-> he’s going through it. like, locked in his room with the curtains drawn tight type going through it

-> you, knowing your best friend, automatically assume the worst and worry. you text him more than you should, drop food off for him, and talk to him from the other side of the door. finally, he unlocks the door with a click and doesn’t say anything as you slip into his room

-> “how bad is it? on a scale from 1 to sae returning from spain.” his eyes glaze at your joke and you quickly apologize with an anxious laugh. “sorry.. wanna talk?”

-> “i love you.” rin says so suddenly it nearly knocks you off your feet. he isn’t the type to use his words affectionately, so his confession makes your heart swell. “aww, rin! i love you too.”

-> you watch as his jaw clenches. “no. i love you, y/n.” and when he finally meets your eyes, you get it. “oh.”

-> “don’t say anything,” he immediately begs as he squeezes a pillow to his chest. “you don’t have to say anything. i just needed to tell you. keeping it buried was burning a hole in me.” you ignore him and move to sit beside him on his bed. “that’s why you’ve been holed up in here?”

-> “… maybe. yes. shut up.” you catch his cheeks turning pink before rin pulls the pillow up to hide his face. it makes you laugh, which earns you a scandalized look. “i tell you i love you and you’re laughing.”

-> you laugh harder. “y/n!” “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so funny all flustered.” “you aren’t helping.” his grumbly tone makes you want to embrace him and never let go. “don’t be shy. and you know me well enough to know you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

-> “buddy-zoned,” he mumbles, horrified. “i’m ending it all.” “you’re so dramatic! don’t worry. i like you, too. maybe we can go on a date when you’re done hiding in your room like when we were kids~” “go away. tomorrow?” “let’s do it!”

mikage reo

-> reo grew up keeping people at a distance, especially his friends, because that’s how he was raised. make connections, network, but don’t get close enough to where they could ever hurt you

-> those rules don’t apply to you

-> he always knew you were special. reo isn’t afraid to be himself around you, as you radiate such warmth and comfort it’s hard for him to ever feel uncomfortable in your presence

-> but when you ask him to rate your outfit for a first date, he realizes just how special you are to him

-> “date?” he asks, failing to sound disinterested. you smile. “nothing serious, just some guy i met at work. he’s cute, though.” “cuter than me?” you can’t help but laugh when reo pokes his cheek to tease you. “no, i don’t think anyone’s cuter than you.”

-> your words shouldn’t affect him the way they do, but suddenly reo is standing in front of you. “if no one’s cuter than me, why go out with them? what if we went out instead?” you blink up at him and let out a nervous chuckle. “like a date?” “why not? we already know everything about each other. we already get along. we trust each other. we should go on a date.”

-> hearing reo say that after you’ve been crushing on him for years is almost too much, but you force yourself to nod. “l-let me text my date. you better not make me regret this, mikage.” reo loves the way you say his name. “i won’t.”

michael kaiser

-> he always had a soft spot for you, and kaiser hated when people would call you his weakness. so when he realizes that his childhood best friend might mean more to him than that… he’s not happy

-> he joined a new team to play soccer with, and though you aren’t allowed to watch him practice, you’re at his first game. when kaiser scores the first goal, he immediately searches the crowd for you. his smile falls when he catches himself wanting to run in your direction and drown in your praise

-> this isn’t normal, he tells himself. you’re his friend—only his friend. he shouldn’t be to desperate to hear your voice or feel your arms around him

-> kaiser avoids you after that. he doesn’t know how to process or accept his feelings for you, so he ignores them. at least he tries, as you make that difficult for him

-> “micha,” you call breathlessly, finally managing to catch him after a game. “what’s wrong with you? why are you being so distant?” kaiser hates the sad sound of your voice and how it makes his chest clench painfully

-> how can he explain that he’s in love with you, and he doesn’t know how to handle it? doesn’t how long it’s been since he’s had these feelings? doesn’t know what to do?

-> you fill his silence by stepping forward and taking his face between your hands. “i’m your friend, always. i’m here when you’re ready.”

nagi seishiro

-> stares as you from across the room as you walk past in a towel, comfortable enough with your childhood best friend to change in front of him. “oh.”

-> “sorry, did you say something?” you ask as you rummage through his closet for a shirt to wear. he turns his attention to the ceiling when you glance back at him. “mm, nothing.”

-> liking you is a hassle. it’s troublesome. if you don’t feel the same, then your friendship will change, and nagi doesn’t want anything to change, as he doesn’t want to rebuild his life without you

-> “nagi?” you ask when you catch him drifting off for the third time. “okay, clearly something’s bothering you. let it out. i’m all ears.”

-> he hums and debates which path is easier. if he keeps avoiding and lying to you, you’ll continue to bother him. if he tells you the truth, you might reject him. however, nagi knows you well enough to know you’d never leave him, not entirely, so he shrugs and says, “i have feelings for you.”

-> whatever you were going to say vanishes from your mind when his words hit your ears. you had the biggest crush on him in grade school, and while nagi always had a soft spot for you, your relationship never advanced. you assumed he didn’t like you back and tried to bury the feelings down, but hearing those five words from him had them rushing back so fast you felt dizzy and breathless

-> “you have feelings for me.” “yes. for a while now, i think.” “you’ve had feelings for me for a while.” “yeah.” “… well, it’s about time, you oblivious fool.”

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issybee06 · 2 months ago

Text

Trust the process pt 2

By popular demand! Part 2!

I provide 🫶

This panel of him crashing out like a toddler is so funny, I enjoy him so much

Like bro stop your diva is showing you little brat

He might be a littleeeeee ooc but I enjoyed writing this so 😝 the thought that all Viltrumites slowly began to change as they are on earth is cannon so I thought I'd have Earth change Thragg…not completely just enough so he doesn't become an asshole.

Comic spoilers! You have been warned so don't stone me

………………………..………………………..…………………………

Your eye twitched when you opened your fridge, absolutely done with this shit. You had been gone for two months on an assignment Cecil put you on and before you left you made sure to clear out the fridge and the cupboards of tarnishable food.

They were full now.

“Fucking weird-ohhhh, hi. You’re here…again.”

He was on your balcony, that ever present frown on his stupidly perfect face. He wasn’t in his dressy robes, preferring a more comfortable appearance to great you in.

“…you had no food.”

“Yeah…it was purposeful.” You muttered, crossing your arms as you walk out to meet him. His jaw tightened at your lake of pants, you had chosen just a college sweatshirt and some boy shorts. He looked away from you, out at the city.

He did that a lot, not look at you. It was like it wounded his pride that he had lowered himself so much as to want a human…and you didn’t want him back.

That made him angry above all else, you not wanting him back. He could literally provide you with EVERYTHING yet you refuse him time and time again, unimpressed with him.

He doesn’t get it. All his other subordinates have families now, some with multiple partners with multiple children on the way or already here, why can’t he convince one fucking human to be his? If he wasn’t so stubborn he would have abandoned this game of yours, go after another human female who he could probably charm with little effort. But he’d grow bored, he knows this.

You? You intrigued him.

He silently turns to you, walking forward until you almost touched. You stiffened, he saw, on defense if he tried anything. Stupid, really, you had no chance of he actually wanted to force himself on you…but he wouldn’t.

He grasped your wrist, gently for someone of his nature, and placed something in your hand.

“I won’t stop. Not at this point.”

You furrowed your brows, opening your hand as he steps back. Your heart stuttered, staring down at the gift. It was a pretty necklace, metal crafted with care, the jewel was definitely not of earth origin.

“W…what is thi-“

“Courting gift, it’s from a planet I conquered.”

Your lips formed a line, “ah.”

He glares, fists clenching, “my gift…displeases you?”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. You squinted at him, vaguely picturing your old cat. He glare at you too as you groaned and whined at the little presents he’d present on your bed in a bloody mess.

“It’s not that-no, I-i like it. I like it.” Please don’t crush my windpipe.

He nods, pleased. He watched you again, expectantly.

“Oh.” You put it on, and he relaxed.

“…so you accept?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He glared at you, offended, “you put the gift o-“

You raise your hand, and he surprisingly quiets, “…why do you keep trying?”

He sighs, hands clasped behind his back. He’s frowning again, you didn’t think he could ever bring himself to smile.

“My people are dwindling…humans have the same genetic makeup as Viltrumites-“

“No. No…why do you keep trying with me?” You cross your arms, the movement causing your breasts to-

His jaw tightens again, “you…fascinate me. No human woman has been able to even capture my interest…not one.”

You sigh, flattered but really done with all this stalking, “look, uh…Grand Regent Thra-” “Thragg.”

You physically pull back, surprised, “what?”

He doesn't move, dark eyes staring at you like he was trying to memorize your genetic makeup.

“Thragg is just fine.”

“Okay…Thragg, um, look, we…i just don't think we'd work out. I'm...a hero on earth…youre kinda a bad guy but not really but yes you are, I mean you did try to kill my best friend a couple of times-” he frowns “-im in college! I can't marry someone, let alone have a baby! Oh god what would I tell my parents… “hey guys! You know how I went and became a hero? Now look what I brought home! My billions of years old baby daddy alien Columbus!”

“…Columbus?”

“Not important right now- the point is that…i don't think you understand what you actually want from me.”

“I know exactly what I want,” he says firmly, “I want you to become my mate and produce my offsprings-”

“That! Yes! That right there! You can do that with anyone! Fuck, just go down to a club and you'll have girls swarming you!”

“I already told you, I want you-”

“You can't have me!”

You both go silent and you're now 100% convinced he's going to kill you now in a hissy fit of rage. This is it. Marks gonna find your body mangled and unrecognizable. Your poor plants. Your poor student dept!

“I…understand.”

What the what now?

“I understand you feel unsure of my pursuit of you as my mate…please…let me convince you in the fashion of two individuals going to a respective establishment to partake in the consumption of edible delicacies.”

“…do you mean going out to eat?”

He nods once, “yes.”

“Youre…asking me on a date?” a small unconscious smile rises on your lips, and you step forward a bit.

“Would you accept if I did?” he watches you, eyes lidded.

“I…”

“You can say no…and I won't try anymore. I will…respect your denial of my offer.”

Fucking pathetic black cat core men…

“I…we can go for coffee.”

…………………..…………………..…………………..……………….

Coffee turned to ice cream, ice cream turned to breakfast, breakfast turned to lunches, lunches turned to midnight trips to burgerMart(much to the displeasure of the Grand Regent). You two had grown on each other, patience complementing understanding and acceptance of your two completely different backgrounds.

It was rocky at first, lots of screaming and ignoring and gifts left on your windowsill.

And now, finally, dinner.

“WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO WEAR?!”

Mark was wide-eyed, never in all the years he's known you has he seen you get this worked up over a date. He seen you worry, seen you excited, but never has he seen you panic.

“(y/n)…i thought you didn't even like him-”

“I DONT!”

You pause, eyes narrowed at him.

“Why…why the fuck did I invite you? Get your girlfriend on the phone she's smarter than both of us.”

“Rude, but okay.”

“Hey (Y/n)-oh my god what the fuck are you wearing?” Eves green eyes widened, moving into the bedroom as Mark leads her in and being mindful of her pregnant belly.

“Eveeeee your stupid boyfriend has no style and its rubbing off on me, save me from my own devices.”

She laughed at your pittiful look, patting your head, “Babe if I had my powers right now I'd make you look like a goddess…but I don't do were gonna have to work with your closet.”

“I haven't had a hot outfit since I was a virgin slut in highschool EVE SAVE MY UNLAID ASS ITS BEDN SO LONG SINCE IVE BEEN TAPPED!”

“I could have sworn you hated this guy-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP MARK!” “MARK GET THE HINT!”

You show up late, fashionable of course, but still sweating bullets as you scan the room for the 6’10 piece of ass you were definitely hitting tonig-oh, there he is. That actually was so hard.

You walk over to the bar, heels clicking softly.

He groans into his glass, “for the last time, no I am not going to go up to your roo—(Y/n).”

He breaths your name and it has you combusting, he was so different than when you first met…earth really changes people.

“Sorry, I'm late…and that you had to deal with getting hit on.” you chuckled, sliding into the chair next to him. His eyes shamelessly rank over you, drinking you in and swallowing.

“You look like stardust.” he grinned softly, holding your hand up gently to kiss your pulse and ohhhhh

You guys might not even make it back to your apartment.

You blush, surprised by him. A year ago, he wouldn't be sitting next to you right now looking at you like you hung the fabric that shaped the universe. He'd...changed.

You smile at him, playing with the straw of the drink.

Maybe being his wouldn't be so bad?

Ask to be apart of the tag list!

@xzmickeyzx

#invincible #invincible show #invincible x reader #grand regent thragg #invincible thragg #thragg #thragg x reader

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mcsstydia · 11 months ago

Text

Faking it - Finnick Odair

prompt: you won the hunger games, now snow forces you to sell your body. your mentor, finnick odair, proposes the both of you fake a relationship so the capitol citizens won’t be interested in you anymore.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

Warnings: mentions of forced sexual labor

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

You won the hunger games. After weeks of fighting to survive, of hiding, of pure fright, of killing children who were not much older than you, you won the games. Now, a lifetime of glory and wealth awaited you, right?

You could have never been more wrong. You could have guessed that there was a flaw to what was promised to you. Sometimes, before and also after the games, your mentor, finnick odair, would look at you with a kind of concealed sadness, as if he knew there was something just as bad as the games would wait for you once you survived.

Finnick was 19, only two years older than you, but you had a feeling sometimes you could see in his eyes he had already endured a lifetime worth of pain. Turns out, your feeling was right about the amount of pain his heart had to carry.

Two months after you've won the games, when you've returned home, on a late Wednesday afternoon, Finnick rang the bell at your new house in the victor village. As you opened the door, you were unexpectedly greeted with the handsome man that was Finnick Odair. You had had a crush on him for forever, and it had only intensified during the time where he was your mentor.

Your stomach began to turn in nervous circles. Why was he here? Did he come to see you? Spend time with you even? Wait, that was not it. You could see it in his face. You were good at reading him.

His gaze rose from where it had been previously fixed on the ground to meet yours. There it was again, that sadness. ''What happened?'', you asked, scared it had to do with your mother, who was out of the house for the evening. ''Your mother is alright.'', Finnick said calmly, as if having read your mind.

You visibly relaxed and exhaled. Nonetheless, your grip around the edge of the door did not loosen. ''Then what it is?'', you asked anxiously, trying to seem collected, composed. But Finnick knew you almost as well as you did him.

''Can I come inside?'', he asked in turn. You nodded silently, your body began buzzing with anxiety. The pleasant turns your stomach initially performed upon seeing Finnick had now turned into unpleasant ones. Finnick headed for your living room and you followed him blindly. He pulled up an armchair and gestured you to take place on the couch. He placed the armchair so it was right in front of the couch. Both of you sat down, and then he gently took both of your hands into his large, warm ones.

This is how bad it was? Normally, you would jump in the air at the touch of his hands on your skin. Now, you could feel the colour draining from your face and the warmth leaving your hands in dread of what was to come.

''Just tell me'', you demanded. You knew he would search for the best way to tell you, to somehow sugar-coat it. Finnick looked at you, and you knew he could see in your eyes that this was what you needed.

''Snow sells the good-looking winners to the citizens of the capitol. At least their body. And now he wants to sell you.'', he said. For a moment, the information had to sink in. Then, you could feel the remaining control you had had over your facial muscles seep away. All expression fell from your face, your eyes made no effort to conceal the tears that came flooding in, and your hands began shaking in the gentle hold Finnick had on them.

His grip around your hands strenghtened, but stayed gentle. ''No…'', you managed to breath out, shaking your head in disbelief. You could feel all the strength leaving your body. Finnick seemed to notice, or he had anticipated it, because he caught your head as it fell toward him, his hands gently cupping the sides of your face. A thought came to your mind about the person you cared most for in this world. In between ragged breaths, you managed to ask ''Did he do it to you?'' The look in his eyes was all you needed to know it was true.

Loud, ugly sobs escaped your lips and you made no effort to hide them. Finnick made no effort to calm you, he knew there was no point in telling you it was all going to be okay. ''I've got you,'', he whispered into single strands of hair, your head still in his hands.

He rocked your body back and forth in an attempt to tell you he was there, and he wouldn't leave. He had begun to do that on the first night after your name was drawn for the games. You had been in the train on your way to the capitol, as he found you on the floor, weeping. He held you the whole night, until you had finally managed to fall asleep. He had rocked you gently, had promised to get you out of the arena alive.

At this point, you had thought he would tell that to every young girl he would mentor. Now, you came to the tentative conclusion that you meant something to him.

Suddenly, he whispered, ''I have a plan,''. The sentence brought you back to reality. His hands never leaving your face, you managed to lift your head just so much as to be able to look in his eyes. His beautiful face was blurred by the tears still in your eyes, and by your already-swollen eyelids. He looked at you with concern, and care, and suddenly you knew you were anything to him but simply another tribute he had to mentor.

You realised you were more than important to him. His next sentences only proved how much you meant to him. ''I won't let him do that to you,'', he began, wiping away one of your tears with his thumb. You could also see fear in his eyes, but it was fear for your wellbeing, for your life.

''It's risky,'', he continued and breathed in. ''But I would risk it, for you.'', a deeper meaning of his words hung in the air, but it was not important now. ''If we fake to be in a relationship, Snow can't sell you. The capitol citizens would then never want to tear us apart.'', he explained. His word registered in your head, and the word fake sent a painful, but quickly fading, stab into your chest.

''Would they believe it?'', you asked. Finnick allowed himself to smile, and his fingers carressed your cheeks. You thought you could read him well, but you weren't so sure now. His expression screamed 'of course they'll believe us, look at how in love I am with you', but he couldn't really think that. He couldn't. You would know if he had feelings for you, and you were sure he did not.

Something brought him back from his thoughts into the situation. So he said, ''I hope they do. That's why I said it's risky. If they do not believe it, if Snow does not believe it, we would be in a lot of trouble.'' You pressed your lips together, and then nodded. ''Why would you do that for me?'', you asked, and then imeediately wanted to take the question back.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ''Because I care about you.'', he whispered, holding your gaze. ''Once we do this,'', he continued. ''there's no going back. It will be us against the world, probably until we die. Do you realize that?'', he asked.

For once, you hoped he could not read your face, or your thoughts for that matter. Did you realize that? Yes. Was it scary? Of course. But was it scary because that meant you had to spend the rest of your life with him? No. That was the only part of this whole thing that sounded like heaven. Instead of telling him any of this, you nodded as an answer.

The next weeks Finnick and you prepared your 'relationship'. You got to know each other better, to make it seem as realistic as possible that you were in love. Many nights were spent like this, quietly, so as even your mother would not know. Many nights ended with your head in his lap, with his fingers running through your hair. Many nights, in which the both of you fell asleep on your couch, or in his bed, all the while holding on to each other.

When your victory tour began, while visiting the districts, you made apparent that you were a couple. Word quickly got out about the new power couple of victors. On the nights on the train, Finnick often lay next to you, to hold you through your cries. It was agonizing to visit the districts of the children who died in the games you were a part of.

Your new relationship was so important to the capitol citizens, that, once in the capitol, both finnick and you were invited to Ceasar Flickerman's show. So you sat there, with Finnick next you, his hand in yours. You had gotten used to the pleasant feeling that was ilicited whenever he touched you. You had gotten used to having him near, so it was not hard to appear happy next to him. It had never been, though.

The people loved you. Everyone adored the two of you together. So much so, that president Snow let go of forcing you into selling your body to the citizens of the capitol. For now.

For now, you were on your way back home from the capitol to district 4. For now, there was the slight hope that things would stay that way, and it was all thanks to Finnick. On this first night on your way back home, you hadn't asked Finnick to come into your room. He had spent the night next to you for the whole of the victory tour, calming you down, holding you when you cried.

But now? You thought Finnick was tired of taking care of you every night. You thought Finnick deserved a night to himself. After all, he wouldn't get many of those anymore that you were in a 'relationship' with him. So you lay there, on your bed, your hands neatly folded on your stomach, your thoughts almost as loud as the train on the tracks. When the doors to your compartment opened, you sat up in your bed, startled and scared. It was only when you saw that it was Finnick who entered, that you relaxed again. Somewhy, you stood up from your bed out of reflex. Finnick looked agitated, and for a moment you feared he brought bad news again. His mouth stood slightly agape, he was breathing heavily, and his eyes frantically scanned your body.

''I don't want to sleep without you,'', he suddenly blurted out. Shock was an understatement. You couldn't help yourself. ''What?'', you brought out as an answer.

The usually calm, confident Finnick he could so easily present himself as for the cameras was nowhere to be seen. He seemed scared, agitated, and lost all at once. ''I-..'', he began tentatively, and took a step toward you.

''I don't want to sleep without you. I don't want to, and I can't, for that matter, when you are not next to me, when I don't know you're safe, when I cannot feel your body next to mine.'' Although he obviusly tried to explain himself, you were no smarter than before.

Finnick could see that you were not sure what he was trying to tell you. He took a few steps until he stood directly in front of you. He took your face into his hands. ''This,'', he continued, gesturing to the two of you. ''It was never fake to me. I never wanted it to be fake. I love you. I have loved you for a long, long time, and I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.'', finally, he seemed to exhale of what seemed to have been a breath he had held for a long time.

Tears began pooling in your eyes. And for the first time in a long time, they were tears of happiness. ''Oh Finnick Odair, are you really so blind as to think I ever wanted it to be fake? I am madly in love with you.'', you finally confessed, and a grin so wide he had never managed to fake for the cameras spread across his lips.

''And now, kiss me, please,'', to any other person, this would have sounded like begging. But it was Finnick, and it was you, and you were both so madly in love nothing else mattered.

So Finnick did what you asked him to do. Slowly, he leaned down, and let his lips brush against yours. After that, it was instant. You both were so hungry for each other, so desperate to finally be able to touch each other in a way you had only dreamed of.

Hands were tangled in hair, and roamed the body of the other. Your lips and teeth clashed against one another, but the kissing erupted feelings in your stomach, and heart, and the whole body, really, that you had never thought could exist. When you broke apart, the both of you giggled, caressed each other's skin, and placed delicate kisses here and there.

That night, you fell asleep in each other's arms again, kissing, holding each other. For the first time in a long time, you weren't scared of the future, because you knew either way, you would spend it with Finnick.

#thg #finnick odair #finnick odair thg #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #sam claflin #sam claflin imagine #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark #peeta mellark imagine #finnick odair fanfiction

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invincibledc · 3 months ago

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Attention Effort!

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪 𝒀𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬! 𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑹��𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 + 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑿 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑭𝑻𝑬𝑹!𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Genre: drabble

Summary: when a shifter between universes who is so young, they get the attention of two superheroes who fight to be their main family. But the youngster just wants to show their powers!

☆★ info！reader is a child at the age of 8-9 who has the ability to shift through realities/worlds/universes, shift to things into their own liking. Basically like atom eve but a chaotic user of shifting the person’s or something’s anatomy or aleast make things appear. After meeting Dick, he began a father figure more than a brother. Taking care of you and even having a room for you. Then you were forced to leave the world, making you join Mark and his family before the same thing happened.

☆〜 “Mr. Grayson!”

“Yes kid?” They both turn at you, before glaring at each other. Always having a rivalry towards each other. You didn’t care for who pays attention, you just gotta show them what you made up.

“Look what I can do!” You jumped excitedly as you clapped into the air. Two bouncing balloons appeared. Both having the stripe colors of black and blue, expect one of them had goggles and the other a bird on it.

“Balloons! For you two!” Your giddy attitude made the two Graysons heart warmed up as they take it.

“Thanks songbird….” Dick says softly looking at the balloon while just mark ruffles your hair.

“This is amazing bud, hey why don’t you come visit me? Oliver’s been dying to show you his new powers.” Eyes widening with excitement, you jump up.

“Yes! Yes! I wanna go!” Before you could grab his hand, Dick grabbed it. With a clench jaw despite his smile, he pulled you gently towards his way. “Are you sure he has any new powers? Thought you told them that Oliver already finished getting his powers?”

Mark stayed quiet, before dick knew, you were gone as Mark had flew off with you in his arms. You were just giggling as mark had a smug look onto his face. “Good thing he doesn’t have powers.”

But that didn’t mean he can’t find you as he pulled out his phone to look at his “baby tracker”. This man was ready as he had put a lot of clothes he bought you with trackers. But luckily Tim had made them turn on when it’s your body heat so it’ll be easier to find you quicker than just ripping and running around.

“DONT worry songbird, papa’s coming!” He gets to moving as soon as possible.

Mark ends up finding himself tied up with some rope that he can’t even get out in. He’s [title card] INVINCIBLE for crying out loud, but he forgot his little sibling figure is practically a god anywhere as you were tricked into thinking that Mark wanted to be a piñata.

If you weren’t there, Mark would’ve turned into Crackable instead as he takes you out the house of this world’s graysons.

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vibelladonna · 5 months ago

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✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo has officially claimed the spot as MY favorite character in TKATB. Honestly, It’s well-deserved. As an asexual person writing about an asexual-coded character, I have to say—there’s something about him that just hits differently.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

It’s like he sees you in a way that most characters don’t. And let’s be real, when Geo looks at you, it’s not just some fleeting glance—it’s intense, calculated, almost suffocating.

But romantic?

Nah. With him, it’s something else entirely.

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? If you’re dating Geo, consider yourself very lucky.

Nah, he's lucky for dating you.

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down!

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe.

But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them.

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter.

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too…

The kind of observant where he notices everything. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead.

It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And honestly? That’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to fix him, didn’t push him to be someone he’s not—you just… stuck around.

Geo doesn’t do well with people who pry or force their way in. But the fact that you respected his space and still made the effort to be there?

Yeah. That got to him.

Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

What’s crazy is how much he notices. Stuff about yourself that even you haven’t realized? Yeah, he’s already picked up on it. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way your fingers fidget with your sleeves when you're anxious, or that offhand comment you made weeks ago about something you wanted.

It’s honestly a little unsettling how much he takes in, but at the same time? It’s one of the ways he shows he cares.

Geo’s not the type for over-the-top romance or constant sweet talk, but his actions?

Louder than words.

He’ll fix something before you even realize it’s broken, hand you exactly what you need before you think to ask, and make sure you’re taken care of in ways that feel so effortless it’s almost unfair.

And when he does say something heartfelt? You know it’s real. Because Geo doesn’t just say things for the sake of saying them. When he speaks, he means it.

Again, he picks up on everything. The way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love is the exact moment you start zoning out because you're tired.

He stores all that information away like it’s second nature—and then he uses it to make your day without you even realizing it.

now i'm rambling here

Like, don’t be surprised if your favorite snack just magically appears when you’re having a rough day. Or if you casually check your bag one day and find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see—no note, no explanation, just Geo making sure you get what you want without making a big deal out of it.

If you ask him about it? He’ll just shrug like, “What? You wanted it, didn’t you?”

And let’s not even get started on your birthday. Geo is ridiculously rich—it’s not even funny. He pretends he might forget (just to mess with you), but he’s had a reminder set forever, not that he needs it.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of showing love isn’t flashy—it’s in the details. He pays attention. He remembers. He knows you probably better than you know yourself. And honestly?

That’s what makes it so unfairly attractive.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Alright, let’s be real—Geo isn’t the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked away in a vault with a “Do Not Disturb” sign and a security system to keep everyone out.

But when Geo cares? He cares.

No half-measures, no second-guessing. Like I KNOW he's no heartless now.

If he lets you in—which, let’s be honest, is a miracle in itself—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And why would he want anyone else? Geo’s not the type to jump from person to person.

When he chooses you, he chooses you.

That said, he’s also not about to make a big spectacle out of it. He keeps his love life locked down tight—partly because he’s private, but mostly because he refuses to let you deal with the chaos that comes from his fanbase and personal life.

He hates the idea of you getting swarmed by fangirls the way he does or his father knowing about you.

But that doesn’t mean he hides your relationship entirely.

Once in a blue moon—maybe once or twice a month—he’ll drop a little something on his Insta story. Just a picture of the two of you together. Your face? Hidden. No tags. No captions. But his friends and fangirls lose their minds over it every single time.

Because let’s be real—you’re both ridiculously attractive.

They'll eat it up.

And listen, Geo isn’t about that over-the-top romance or dramatic love confessions. He’s not the type to shower you with sweet words or be all over you in public—PDA? Yeah, it's not really his thing.

Hate is a strong word, but let’s just say he’s not a fan.

When you first start dating, physical affection is practically nonexistent. But the closer you get, in private? Oh, ohhh, you realize real fast—this man is touch-starved. Like, embarrassingly so. He won’t outright say it but quietly melt into your touch when you play with his hair.

His favorite spot? Your lap. Or chest.

Geo lives for lying there while you run your fingers through his hair-shockingly soaking up your warmth like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. After a long, exhausting day of archery practice? Yeah, that’s his go-to way to unwind.

Now, when it comes to kisses, this man is sneaky.

His favorite spot to kiss? Your neck. Why?

Because he likes watching you absolutely malfunction. Geo loves getting a reaction out of you, and nothing flusters you quite like that.

As for him? He likes being kissed on the cheek (if you can reach it, that is). Something about it feels so innocent and genuine—a rare, pure moment in the mess of a world he deals with daily.

Also, let’s talk about jewelry: Necklaces or rings, for example. Not as much or for any deep reason—he just thinks they look cool, and he likes looking cool. But here’s where it gets cute: he buys you a simpler ring to his that matches your vibe.

Nothing fancy, still expensive just a simple little reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. You wear them every day, and they become something sentimental.

And the best part? Before archery matches, Geo’s been caught kissing the end of his necklace or ring for good luck. And when you tease him about it later? He doesn’t even flinch.

He just deadass looks at you and goes, “Yeah, I thought you’d send me the luck I needed to win. Not like I needed luck though—I’m just that—”

Just shut him up with a kiss already.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s insanely protective—like, the kind of guy you just know has your back, no questions asked. But don’t get it twisted—he’s not clingy, not overbearing, and definitely not the type to smother you.

That’s just not his style.

He’s more of a silent guardian type, always watching, always aware, but never in your way. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That says everything. Geo knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to hover like some overprotective watchdog.

But let’s be real—if someone steps out of line with you?

Oh, it’s game over.

Geo may seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to you? That sharp tongue of his? Lethal. He’s not loud, he’s not dramatic—he’ll cut people down with a single sentence and leave them wondering where they went wrong.

And let’s not forget—this man is an archer. If someone really pushes their luck, they better hope they’re nowhere near a target, because one glare from him and a perfectly-placed bullseye is all it takes for people to get the message loud and clear.

No threats are needed. Just precision.

The best part? Geo doesn’t do theatrics. No chest-puffing, no dramatic speeches—he shuts down nonsense with a few words and an energy so cold it could drop the room temperature. And maybe, just maybe, he’d beat the absolute shit out of someone in secret. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course.

But you’d know.

Because, well… you have a habit of playing with his hands when you’re both just chilling on the couch, and he lets you. Always. Which is exactly how you spot it—bruised knuckles, faint red marks across his pale skin, like he just went a round or two with someone’s face.

You narrow your eyes, tracing over the fresh marks. “Geo.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. “What.”

“What happened to your hands?”

His fingers twitch slightly, but his expression stays flat. “Nothing.”

You glance between him and his definitely-not-nothing knuckles. “Oh, really? So, what, did you punch the air too hard?”

Geo exhales sharply, finally meeting your gaze. “You ask too many questions.”

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “And you deflect too much.”

For a second, it looks like he’s about to actually answer. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts entirely. “Hey, did you see that dumbass thing Deryl did today?”

You blink. “Geo—”

“No, because seriously, this idiot tried to—”

And just like that, the conversation is over. You could push it, but knowing him, you’d be sitting here for hours listening to him insult Deryl instead of getting an actual answer. So, for now, you just sigh and go back to playing with his fingers.

You’ll find out eventually. You always do.

That being said… he might keep you away from his older stepbrother, Hyugo, just to be safe. And honestly? Probably for the best.

At the end of the day, Geo’s way of protecting you isn’t about control—it's about making sure you’re safe without ever making you feel trapped. And honestly? That kind of quiet, no-BS loyalty?

It’s unbeatable.

✑ He Knows, always.

Geo? Oh, trust me, he absolutely knows how you’re feeling at all times, and he’s not shy about using that to his advantage.

Like I said, this man is fully aware you think he’s hot, and he uses that like a secret weapon.

If you’re mad at him? He’ll stand there, nodding along like he’s paying attention, but his eyes? Oh, they’re locked onto your face with that look—intense, unreadable, the kind that just stops you in your tracks.

Suddenly, whatever you were mad about doesn’t seem so bad because, holy hell, why is he looking at you like that? And if you somehow manage to keep your train of thought for, like, half a second?

He turns it up.

Without a word, he’ll gently cup your cheek WITH ONE HAND, tilt your face up so your eyes meet stern but soft eyes ofhis, and just like that? Poof, every rational thought you had flies out the window. Like how are you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks like that?

It’s impossible.

He knows it. You know it. Game over.

But it’s not just about teasing you or getting a rise out of you—Geo actually listens. Like, for real. When you’re upset, he’s not the type to bombard you with empty words or push you to talk. Let’s be real, the dude doesn’t do feelings.

Instead, he just sits next to you, hands you tissues like he’s a human Kleenex, and lets you lean on his shoulder without saying a word. His presence is like a steady rock in the middle of a storm.

No talking is needed. He’s just… there. Solid.

And, honestly, it’s pretty damn comforting. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he just has his own way of showing it.

A slow, silent walk to clear your head. A softened tone when he speaks. A steady hand on your back when words don’t feel enough.

And look, this is something I find insanely attractive, but when you’re just having a normal conversation with him?

Geo will hit you with the ultimate power move—leaning back in his seat, raising an eyebrow, smirking just enough to make your heart stutter. He’ll hum, all low and lazy, like, “Mhm? Oh, really?”

And the worst part? He’s fully aware of how your face heats up when he does it.

Yeah. He’s the worst. And also so unfairly hot.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation?

So… Compliments?

Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet.

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside.

And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service?

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day.

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package.

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though.

“Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special.

And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking.

And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked?

That’s how you win this man over.

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him.

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship.

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts?

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside?

He’s lowkey impressed.

Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like,

“…You actually get me?”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick.

When the gift reflect his personality and interests?

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “...How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket?

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it.

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause.

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously.

Like I just know he's the type whose morning routine consists of opening the window to let in fresh air, taking a deep breath, morning yoga, skin care, meditation, and drinking his favorite tea, that's how he starts his day.

Also this man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad.

He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive.

He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred.

You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony.

Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, however he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like.

It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire or straight up cruse you out becasue why are you touching his stuff without asking.

He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason.

You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about 'proper application techniques' while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying your skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach.

Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.” And "Don't use that one, it's bleach your skin."

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at help you.

His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation.

You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his.

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it.

“You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is.

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it.

✑ He's a Meance

Geo is a menace.

Like straight up, If you’re shorter than him? You’re an armrest now. Sorry. And don’t let the whole “stoic, too cool to care” act fool you—this man is criminally competitive. Like, sure, he looks all calm and collected, but the second you break out Uno or a board game?

It’s over. He plays to destroy, not just win. And the worst part? His trash talk is so casual yet devastating. “Huh. Interesting move,” he’ll murmur, placing his piece exactly where it ruins your entire plan. Trivia night? Good luck. This man is a walking encyclopedia and will hit you with random facts just to flex.

And yeah, he lets you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. You’ll catch him accidentally fumbling a Jenga piece or conveniently forgetting an easy trivia answer, but what if you call him out? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Straight face. No shame.

But when he loses?

Oh, it’s personal.

Beat him in a cooking challenge? Suddenly, your pancakes aren’t “fluffy enough.” Outshoot him in archery? Now he’s muttering about “beginner’s luck” like you didn’t just humble him.

Speaking of archery—yeah, he tried to teach you. At first, you sucked. Arrows were flying everywhere, and you could feel the secondhand embarrassment radiating off him. But instead of roasting you (too much), he’d sigh, adjust your stance, and mumble, “It’s not that hard.”

Then, one day? It clicked. And suddenly, you were hitting every bullseye. Geo just stared at you, then the target, then back at you. “You’ve been practicing without me.” You hadn’t, but he refuses to believe it.

Now he challenges you constantly—bullseye races, trick shots, anything to reclaim his dignity. And when you win? That subtle crease in his brow tells you everything.

But despite the wounded pride, he’s secretly proud as hell. If anyone else tries to challenge you, he’s the first to brag: “They’re best shot here.” Deadpan. Like he wasn’t just sulking five minutes ago.

Oh, and Geo’s not just competitive—he’s annoying. He lives to mess with you. Comes back from archery practice, and he's sometimes all gross and sweaty?

idk why I said this because I feel like this mf doesn't sweat or gross.

Yeah, that’s the perfect time for a surprise hug. If you try to push him off, he gets pouty—and dealing with a grumpy Geo is way worse, so you always cave. WHICH YOU HATE BECAUSE the hugs are elite just rare as hell AND HE KNOWS THAT, so it’s a win and lose for you.

And don’t even try to be romantic with his ass. Like if you send him a sweet text like. “Good morning! Please have a great day, ily <3”?

Left on fucking read. Or worse, ‘k.’ A minute later? ‘simp.’

You send back, ‘bruh, I hate you.’

He prefers video calls over texting anyway.

If he’s away at an archery match—long distance from you, he debates calling you while you’re asleep—doesn’t want to wake you, but also kinda wants to see your face.

Instead, he wakes up at stupid o’clock just to call you when you’re up, but if you ask? “Nah, just had practice.”

And you like, "Geo it's fucking 4AM over there, what."

Yeah. Sure. Keep the act up, Geo.

We all know you’re down horrendous.

✑ He's Aro/Ace

Geo’s sex drive is… complicated, the reason why becuase he's aroace, a shortened term for aromantic asexual, or individuals who experience little to no romantic or sexual attraction. Sex and Romance is not something he actively wants/needs or thinks about.

Morning wood? Yeah, it happens—he’s human. But is he waking you up to "fix" it? Absolutely fucking not. Man’s already in the cold shower, dealing with it like it's an inconvenience because, to him, that’s exactly what it is.

For Romantic stuff, though? That’s on the table.

Kissing, cuddling, slow intimate touches—I'll like to say he'll do it for you if ask and don't push about it. Like It’s never about escalation with him, just the closeness. If anything, he finds more satisfaction in making you feel loved rather than anything physical.

That said, Geo loves your body—but not in a sexual way. More in the “I like how soft and warm you are, so I’m just gonna hold you forever” kind of way. When is he in cling mode?

Oh, you’re done.

You will be trapped under his weight while he mutters something about how comfortable you are.

Anyway, not that he’ll admit any of this, of course. If you ask why he suddenly pulled you into a cuddle pile, keeping you locked against his chest with an arm draped over your waist, he’ll just shrug. “What? You’re warm.”

But you know better.

rambling start here

You could be wearing the most revealing outfit ever—something that would have most guys tripping over themselves—and Geo’s reaction? A single glance, a slow nod, and a casual, “Huh. Looks nice.” That’s it.

No gawking, no flustered stammering, no immediate change in demeanor. He acknowledges it, registers that you look good, and then goes right back to whatever he was doing, completely unfazed.

But let’s be real—just because he’s not reacting outwardly doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Oh, he notices, and while he won’t say much, he’s definitely thinking about it. Not in a possessive or jealous way, but more in a “Tch. now I gotta keep an eye on every dude within a 10-mile radius” kind of way.

Especially if you wearing so fucking outrageous, like a bunny suit? Bro, he's in disbelief... like why would you wear such a thing???

Because at the end of the day, Geo is still protective. He might not be the type to hover or make a scene, but he doesn’t like the idea of other men staring at you like you’re something to be claimed.

And if he catches someone looking a little too long?

They’re getting the look—that sharp, unreadable stare that says, “You don’t want to make this a problem.”

rambling stop here

Geo doesn’t need sex, doesn’t crave it, and again, sure as hell isn’t driven by it. But if it’s something you want? He’ll do it for you—just no rush, no pressure, okay? He takes his time, always reading the moment and making sure you’re on the same page.

If you’re not feeling it? Cool, neither is he.

If you are? Just... give him a few days. Maybe a month.

And honestly? It hits at the most random times.

You’ll be chilling on the bed—scrolling through your phone, curled up with a book, idk, most likely maybe zoned out watching a show—and then, boom. Arms around you. No warning.

Just Geo pulling you in, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. No words, no explanation—just him pressing close like he needs you there.

It’s his way of saying, 'I want you.'

But instead of saying it, he just does it.

Now at first, you'll think this mf wants a hug or cuddle. Because if you asked him you want to try it and he's like "Okay, I'll think about it." Bro thought about it for like a damn month.

I don't blame him because he's most likely his first time.

So you perhaps forgot. And he can see that? So instead of straight up telling you, because you express to him so so so many times that his words can be such a damn mood-killing.

So, he'll turn you around, his hands lingering on your arms, slow and deliberate. His fingers brush against your skin, light as a whisper, giving you a second to realize what’s happening. His gaze meets yours—steady, searching—before flickering down to your lips.

A pause. A silent question.

Then, he leans in. No rush, no hesitation—just a slow, lingering kiss, deep enough to make your breath hitch. It’s soft at first, testing, then firmer as he presses closer, like he wants to memorize every second of it. His forehead rests against yours when he finally pulls away, breath steady, hands still holding you like he’s afraid to let go too soon.

This is how he tells you everything.

No grand speeches, no dramatic confessions—just touch, just presence. His way of saying 'You matter' without ever needing the words.

At the end of the day, Geo’s libido exists, sure—but you are what drives him, not sex. And trust me...

Please love him no matter what

✑ Flaws? There’s a few… shit perhaps like five?

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer.

Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way.

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell.

Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him.

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances.

Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good.

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P.

Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with.

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Fourth, mean asf and straight-up rude sometimes.

He's the type of partner who is mean as hell but somehow still your favorite. The relationship dynamic is less sweet and affectionate and more sarcastic, begrudging, and a little toxic but in a way that keeps you entertained.

Like he's not the type to sugarcoat anything. If your outfit looks bad? He’ll tell you. If you’re being annoying? You’ll hear about it.

But at the same time, if anyone else talks down to you? He’s shutting that down immediately—because only he gets to roast you.

If you get yourself into trouble, he’s there. Not happily, not gently—he will drag you out of danger while muttering, "Are you actually incapable of making good decisions?"

He won’t outright say he cares, but the way he pulls you behind him when things get serious? Yeah. You know.

Uhh, let's see... He doesn’t say, “I love you.” Instead, it’s:

"You’re less insufferable today."

"I’d rather deal with you than anyone else."

"If you die, I’m going to be so pissed."

You just have to translate the affection.

Like mention before he will not let you win in anything just to be nice. If you challenge him to a game, an argument, anything—he’s playing to win.

But if he sees you actually struggling? That’s when he quietly steps in to help—never admitting it, of course.

He won’t admit he worries, however you’ll catch him lingering outside your place when you’re sick or making sure you get home safe.

If you call him out on it, expect immediate denial: "I was just passing by. Don’t get weird about it."

Five, Geo’s got walls on walls.

Geo isn’t just guarded—he’s practically a damn fortress. He doesn’t trust easily, doesn’t share easily, and sure as hell doesn’t need anyone prying into his business.

If you ask too many personal questions? Expect him to shut that down with a sharp look and an even sharper comment.

He’s always watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions like he’s running a background check in real time. AKA Daddy Issues™. He’s been taught that vulnerability is a weakness, and weakness is unacceptable.

And even if you do manage to get close? Don’t think that means you’ve cracked him completely. I have a feeling Geo selectively lets people in—just enough to keep them around, never enough to feel like they have power over him.

So, what does this all mean?

Well... I mean... this is how the relationship would play out.

He’ll share things in pieces. You won’t get a full backstory—you’ll get fragments, scattered across different conversations, months apart.

He’s the king of deflection. Ask him something too personal, and suddenly, he’s talking about your issues instead.

“Why do you care?”

“And this matters to you because…?”

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself instead?”

Physical affection? Again, he'll tolerate it—on his terms. You can’t just grab his hand out of nowhere; he’ll pull away instinctively. But if he’s the one reaching for you?

That’s when you know you’ve made progress.

He might never fully open up. Even if he cares, even if he loves you, there will always be parts of him that stay locked away. Not because he doesn’t trust you—because trusting people with everything isn’t something he knows how to do.

Geo’s a tough shell to crack, and maybe that’s part of his appeal. You know the walls are high, but if you’re one of the few who gets past them? That’s when you see the rare moments of honesty, the softer side he barely even admits exist

Like I know Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him.

His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that?

That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. But would we I want him any other way? Nope.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Alright, let’s get one thing straight: Geo has serious trust issues. Self-image as a person. And honestly? Again, Daddy Issues™.

We don’t know everything about his past, but we know enough to figure out that whatever happened left him with walls so high they make a medieval fortress look like a picket fence.

Like, this man isn’t just guarded—he’s got emotional security measures in place that could rival a high-security vault.

Moat? Check. Drawbridge? Pulled up. Guard dragons? Probably.

Nobody really knows Geo. Sure, we know the basics:

He’s filthy rich. (Like, limo-picking-him-up-from-class rich.)

He’s stupidly good at archery. (If you gave him an arrow and told him to shoot a dime out of the air, he’d probably do it just to shut you up.)

His death glare could halt traffic. (And possibly cause minor cardiac arrest.)

But beyond that? Nothing.

Like my dearest readers, I kid you not, figuring him out wasn't easy.

Trying to read Geo is like trying to solve a puzzle where half the pieces are missing, and the remaining ones are written in a language you don’t understand. Every expression, every word, every reaction—he controls them so carefully it’s impossible to tell what’s real and what’s just a calculated response.

Like the only reason I’ve pieced together information about him as much as I have? Pattern recognition.

He deflects when things get too personal.

His silence speaks volumes. When he chooses not to respond, it’s usually because the truth would reveal too much.

His actions contradict his words. Geo will act like he doesn’t care, but then he’s the first one to step in when something happens. He won’t say he’s worried, but you’ll catch him watching, listening, making sure the ones he cares about are safe.

Anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building.

Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars.

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy as Geo very much claims.

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk.

And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends." Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, shit Idk how Deryl does it, probably doesn't give two fuck and still bothers Geo, what does that mean for literally anyone else?

Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. The fucking MC. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head, and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger.

What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: he’s not super complicated to figure out in the game. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain.

He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

I know he's not an easy person to love, but the way he does love?

It’s deep, rare, and real.

He’ll never fake kindness, but when he does let his guard down, it feels earned. He sees you as his equal—someone who doesn’t back down, who doesn’t let his reputation scare them away.

And that, I feel like that's enough. For me anyway

#the kid at the back x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb geo #geo oogami #subaru oogami #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb head canons #the kid at the back head canons #tkatb geo x reader #the kid at the back geo

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vroomvro0mferrari · 1 year ago

Text

LN4 | Kiss and Make Up

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 5.0K

Warnings: cursing?

Masterlist

You heard the keys jiggle in the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening, and your brother stomping through the hallway of your parental home. You finally have some time off from school after the insane amount of deadlines and exams that filled your last couple of weeks and decided to visit your family. You like studying and university, but it’s nice to come home and be taken care of instead of doing everything on your own. However, you’re still in charge of dinner tonight. You can never make it back home without being forced to make your famous lasagne at least once and tonight’s the night your family will be blessed with your famed, home-made dish.

Max smiled when he saw you standing in the kitchen, chopping up the veggies for tonight. Although he’d never tell you directly, he had missed you. Max still lived close to your parents whereas you had moved further away for school. It made it difficult to see each other regularly, especially since Max had started Quadrant with Lando and didn’t make the effort to visit you anymore. Seeing you in person had become a rare occurrence, something that would only happen in his parents’ house.

Max put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned forward to watch what you were doing. “Hey sis, are you making lasagne?” He said with a smile.

“Hello Y/N, I’ve missed you. How are you doing? – I’m doing well, Max. Thank you for asking.” You mumbled as you continued to cut vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t see it with your back towards your brother, but he smiled at your antics. “Hello my dear sister, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I do wonder how you’re doing.”

You turned around and smiled when he pulled you into a hug. “It’s your own fault. You never come to visit me, but I’m doing well now that the exams are over,” you tell him with a chuckle.

Max decided to ignore your complaint, instead redirecting the conversation to what you were busying yourself with. “So, lasagne?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m making lasagne for dinner.”

He silently cheered at your response. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face when he asked, “Is there enough for one more?”

“Depends… Who’s it for? P?” You said, looking back over your shoulder to meet his eyes as you cut up more veggies.

“Does it matter who I invited? You won’t let anyone else eat your lasagne?” He said with a laugh, but you knew the question was serious. He knew you didn’t particularly get along with some of his friends – actually, one of his friends, Lando. To say your relationship with Lando isn’t great would be an understatement. Max didn’t know why exactly you didn’t get along, you’ve never indulged him, but the dislike is clearly noticeable and has been going on for ages. Max had tried to improve the relationship in the past, but nothing had worked, only making it worse. He doesn’t understand why Lando, specifically; you don’t seem to have any issues with his other friends.

You looked at Max pointedly; he was asking for something he already knew. Of course, you’d let people other than P eat your lasagne. There’s only one person that you wouldn’t allow.

Max sighed at your seriousness, “Yes, I’ve invited P,” he told you.

You smiled triumphantly, “Good! I’ve missed her; more than you, actually,” you said with a snort.

Max rolled his eyes at your comment. “I should never have introduced you two. You’re suspiciously close,” he mumbled as he shook his head, leaving the kitchen.

You grinned at his comment and continued to prepare dinner. You carefully cut the veggies, made the sauce and built the lasagne before you covered it with cheese. After you finally put it in the oven, you went to your room to freshen up. Of course, you cannot cut tomatoes without getting juice on your shirt, so clean clothes are a necessity. You quickly changed your shirt, reapplied your deodorant, and fixed up your hair before you heard the door opening, footsteps and voices following soon after. You smiled as you walked down the stairs, excited to see Pietra after months. You walked into the room, ready to hug your brother’s girlfriend, only to see his boyfriend making himself comfortable on the couch.

Your smile dropped from your face in an instant, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Lando,” you said in a low voice. What on earth was he doing here? Your brother told you he’d invited his girlfriend, your friend; was she not here yet? Lando must’ve come to pick something up, right? He wouldn’t visit around this time unless he came to pick something up… Or come for dinner… Judging by how comfortable he had made himself on the couch, you doubt it’s the former.

“Y/N! How are you?” Lando said, getting up from the couch to properly greet you. You scoffed and folded your arms as he moved closer.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said with a smirk.

“I hope you’re not here for dinner,” you continue.

“I am here for dinner, actually. Max invited me.”

You shifted your eyes over to Max in anger. He’d told you P would be coming over, not Lando. The little bitch.

“I take it P’s not coming, then?” It was evident in your voice that you were upset.

Max looked at you with apologetic eyes, like a child being scolded, as he avoided your gaze. At the lack of response, you turned your attention back to Lando.

“There isn’t enough food for all of us, and even if there was, it probably wouldn’t match your fancy diet anyway. Go buy a salad or something,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Lando couldn’t help but smile at your response. “Such hostility,” he said, his hand resting on his chest in fake hurt, and a teasing grin on his face that made you want to slap it off.

You gritted your teeth at the teasing – God, this man frustrated you to no end, and he was enjoying it, too.

“Fuck off, Lando. You’re not welcome here,” you said before walking away.

Lando was about to follow you into the dining room, unable to resist teasing you further, but Max stopped him. “Come on, man. Don’t provoke her. She’s already annoyed, especially because I lied to her.”

You paced the dining room in an attempt to calm yourself down while the lasagne cooked in the oven. You grabbed the plates from the cabinet and started setting the table. You'd cooled off until you realised you’d have to set a place for Lando. You frowned as you stared at the last plate. Why couldn’t Lando just leave you alone? He should know not to bother you, you’d shown him before how petty you could be when he frustrated you, so why did he have to try again and again? Should you act like the bigger person, get over yourself and set the table for Lando, or should you 'forget' about Lando and set only four places? Your parents would be upset for sure, but the urge to retaliate is so strong. You stood still for at least a minute as you weighed your options.

A smile crept its way on your face when you spotted the kids’ table in the corner of the dining room. Usually, it’s only used for big family events, when your much younger cousins would come to visit. They don’t properly fit at the adult table and have their own tiny table in the corner of the room. A normal-sized human wouldn’t properly fit on one of the seats, but then again, Lando’s short, right? Besides, if he acts like a child, then he can sit at the children’s table. You grab the children’s cutlery and plate from the cabinet and set a special place for Lando. You can barely keep your laughter back at the thought of Lando sitting at the small table in a chair that’s way too tiny for him.

When you heard the timer beep, you tried to neutralise your expression. You placed the lasagne on the kitchen table before calling your family (and Lando) for dinner. Your parents were, unsurprisingly, the first to join you at the table. The boys, naturally, were still finishing up the game they started before dinner was finished. Your parents were already seated and provided with drinks before the boys came walking in. Although your parents hadn’t noticed the table in the corner or the missing chair, your brother noticed straight away.

He looked at you disappointedly as he said, “Y/N, did you seriously not set a place for Lando?”

“No, I did. It’s right over there,” you said, pointing to the kids’ table.

The boys looked in the direction you were pointing, and Max started laughing immediately. Meanwhile, Lando was shocked at how blunt you were being. So far, every retaliation you’d ever taken wasn’t that obvious. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and disappointment as he stared at the table – did you really dislike him that much?

“Where’s the other chair?” Max asked, still chuckling as he stood at the empty spot by the table.

You didn’t look up when you responded, “I don’t know,” shrugging your shoulders as you casually continued to divide the lasagne.

Lando sighed as he tried the chair, his knees pointing out above the table. Max only laughed louder at the image, and your dad couldn’t resist chuckling either while Lando pouted.

“I can’t eat like this.”

“Then don’t. I told you you’re not welcome.”

“Y/N!” Your mum scolded you before turning to Lando. “You’re always welcome here, darling. Ignore her,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where did you put the chair?” She questioned you.

You sighed, “They’re just in the pantry,” you admitted.

Your mum stood up and grabbed the chair for Lando who was still sitting in the tiny seat, while Max took pictures to post on his story, laughing. Lando smiled thankfully when she came back with the chair and grabbed a normal plate to serve him a generous portion of your homemade lasagne.

You couldn’t help but glare at Lando when he took his first bite. He was undeserving of the food which you had put so much effort and love into. You couldn’t even enjoy your own portion with the boy sitting across from you, although it tasted great. But Lando couldn't enjoy it either with the glares you kept sending him. Your resentment made him uncomfortable, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d be afraid that you’d poisoned his dinner. That was not your style though; he knew exactly how you liked to take your revenge. After all, he had experienced your wrath many times, and he had to admit you were very creative in creating your retaliations. He could never be entirely sure, or prove that you were the cause, but everything about the weird situations he’d been in the past years screamed your name.

There was one time that he’d gotten tens of phone calls every day for a week about a missing key. Even now, he occasionally gets calls about a key that was found. It seems quite innocent, but Lando’s phone was blowing up the entire week at the most inconvenient times: while he was in important meetings, when he was spending time with friends, even when he was streaming. Another time, Lando’s Netflix was completely messed up. All the recommendations on his home screen were for kids’ TV and romcoms. This, too, seems innocent enough, but after he had watched Netflix together with Daniel Ricciardo, and his homepage was filled with Cocomelon, The Kissing Booth, Riverdale and other films and series of the same genre, he had to hear about it for years to come. Some other time, Lando’s clothes mysteriously fell apart after only a few hours of wearing them after he’d stayed the night at Max's place at the same time as you. He didn't know how, but he was sure you had something to do with that too.

Although your reactions were very petty and often childish, Lando did admire your perseverance, resourcefulness and creativity. If he wasn’t always the victim of your crimes, he would have loved them, and perhaps even encouraged them, because, let’s be honest, it’s impressive if you can make someone’s clothes fall apart when you’re not even near them.

Lando didn’t really understand why he was always your victim, though. When you were younger, you’d gotten along fine, but as you’d gotten older you’d become meaner to him. He didn't know where things went wrong, and whether it was his fault or you just decided you were done with him. You used to tease each other, yes, but that was always mutual and lighthearted. Neither of you minded the comments that were made because you both knew it was all in good fun. At some point, you just started doing things like these, and Lando still doesn't know what initiated it.

You know exactly when it started, though. Everything was fine until Max and Lando hit puberty. Suddenly, they were ‘too cool’ to hang out with you, and you were excluded from all of their activities. The teasing didn’t really feel like teasing anymore, but rather mean comments that hurt you. Lando never caught onto your change in perception; he thought you still saw it as teasing. But the comments became more rude over time, and it felt like the boys who were your friends once, were now making fun of you.

Like when you were invited to apply for Honours College at your university. You were extremely proud that your grades in your regular courses were good enough to be admitted, and that you’d been invited to apply. But Lando just called you a nerd and laughed before continuing to talk about his own achievements, as if what you’d done was nothing important or impressive.

It wouldn’t have mattered much if it were any other friend of your brother, but Lando was important. You’d known him for about ten years, and he was basically a part of your family. What didn’t help either was that you had developed a small crush on him over the years. By the time he turned twenty, he’d gone through a glow-up. He finally learned how to deal with his curly hair and his face had matured to that of a handsome man. You were attracted to him, but his ugly personality distracted from his looks – most of the time.

Nevertheless, you wanted to impress Lando; to make him like you so he would stop with the off-handed comments. Though you weren’t necessarily good at sports or karting like he was, you excelled academically. You thought by showing your intelligence, you could gain his respect. Unknowingly, it made Lando feel dumb. He’d never even finished secondary school, and you were taking on extra classes in university without any troubles. He reacted differently than he would have liked to, but he thought you’d understand it was a joke.

Another time, you organised a last-minute surprise party for your brother. You had made sure there were decorations, music, food, and most importantly, drinks. You were happy with what you had managed to do in the time available, but your mood significantly worsened when Lando jokingly said you could have put in a little more effort. He was smiling when he said it, but it felt like he was making fun of you; of the amount of effort you had put in to make sure everything was organised as perfectly as possible. Despite his intention to tease, it didn't feel that way to you.

The comment that you believe triggered your best revenge was on Pietra’s birthday. She celebrated her birthday at Max’s apartment, and of course, you’d come to visit and celebrate with her. A few months before her birthday she’d shown you a top she really liked when she was online shopping, but the colour wasn’t right. So, for her birthday, you decided to crochet the top in her favourite colour. It was a bold choice because you didn’t have much experience crocheting, nevertheless, you tried. If she didn’t like it, you would just buy it from the store after all, or get her something else. You thought it looked pretty good, especially for your first try. Regardless, there were some mistakes and uneven shapes.

Pietra was completely surprised and elated with the present, especially when you told her you made it yourself. She knew how much time and effort it probably cost you to make it, but Lando didn't consider that when he commented on the piece.

“You made it yourself? Maybe you should practice a little more, huh?” He said, laughing, before handing it back to P.

You felt the smile drop from your face at the hurtful remark, but Lando was oblivious to the fact he hurt your feelings. Max turned to Lando in shock, while Pietra assured you that she loved the top, and couldn’t wait to wear it. You plastered a smile on your face, but it was obvious (to anyone but Lando) that it was fake. That night, after drinking your feelings away, you tore the seams in Lando’s clothes. Not every single one, but enough so it would fall apart after too much exertion; the punishment should fit the crime.

The anticipatory pleasure at the thought of Lando’s clothes tearing at an inconvenient moment was enough to satisfy you. When you heard about what happened a few days later from Max, you could barely keep your laugh back.

More recently, you had gone clubbing with your brother and his friends. It was an unusual event because your brother didn’t want to see you flirting or dancing with random boys in the club, but this time it was different. He knew you’d been stressed from school, and he’d rather you let loose when he’s there than when he’s not there to keep an eye on you.

You were dancing with your brother and his friends when a cute boy came up to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. You said yes, of course. You would never refuse a free drink, especially in good, handsome, company, and you wanted to get over your small crush on Lando. You don’t know why or how, but he always seemed ten times hotter in a club, and you needed to get away from him. The longer you stayed near him, the more his pretty face and well-dressed body seemed to distract you from his unattractive personality, and that couldn’t happen.

You followed the man to the bar and ordered a drink as he flirted with you. His attention was completely focused on you, but you kept getting distracted by the feeling of eyes on your back. It wasn’t until you were dancing in the middle of the large crowd that the feeling faded. You felt free without the supervision of your brother, and without Lando to distract you.

The man pulled your back closer to him, and you let him. You swayed from side to side with your arms in the air while he kissed his way down your neck. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t matter; it was good enough. You liked the feeling of his lips on your neck and felt yourself get lost in the moment until suddenly there was a tug on your arm.

Your eyes opened in shock as you felt yourself get pulled away. The man you were dancing with didn’t seem to mind much and moved on with another girl standing nearby as you stared at Lando confused and disoriented.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him as you struggled to pull your arm from his firm grip.

“I’m taking you back to the group, you need to be more careful,” he explained.

You scoffed, “What? I was perfectly safe! Let me go!”

“Were you? He seemed untrustworthy,” Lando continued as he pulled you through the club.

“I was just having fun! God, you’re so annoying!” You say with a huff before walking back to your brother.

Lando watched you as you walked away. He didn't want you to dance with that man, or any man for that matter, even though he would never admit it. However, you had misunderstood his intentions. To you it seemed like he was interrupting your fun, cockblocking if you will, and it frustrated you to no end.

For days to come, you complained to your brother about what happened, insisting that it was none of Lando’s business and he should’ve left you alone. However, your brother grew tired of your complaints really quickly and couldn’t deal with your issues anymore. Your ongoing dispute with Lando had dragged on for too long and it needed to be resolved, soon, before he went insane. During your next fight, Max would force the two of you to repair your relationship, whether you wanted to or not, because he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

It didn’t take long until your next fight. You were looking at pictures of Lando and Max on Instagram from when they went golfing a few days back when you spotted something. In one of the pictures, Lando was taking a photo with a camera, a camera which he had seemingly ‘borrowed’ from you without your knowledge.

The second you saw him enter your parents’ house, you targeted him.

“You stole my camera?”

“Hello to you, too, Y/N,” he responded with a grin.

You rolled your eyes.

“Where is it, Lando,” you continued, stepping closer to him.

“I gave it to Max. He was supposed to give it back. He hasn’t yet?”

“No, he hasn’t. And you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.”

Your gaze shifted to Max, who walked in behind Lando.

“Where is it, Max?”

“In my room somewhere, I think.”

“Can you go grab it? Please?”

The words you said were much kinder than the way you said them. Max sighed before walking up the stairs to his room, you and Lando in tow. He looked around the room, getting on his knees to look under the bed.

“You put my camera under your bed?” You asked angrily.

“I’m not sure if I did, that’s why I’m looking, Y/N.”

Max thought this was the absolute worst. He had gotten himself pulled into one of your arguments again, and now he was being yelled at by you when it wasn’t his fault to begin with. He sighed before getting up.

“I’ll just go grab my phone for the flashlight,” he said before leaving the room.

You merely nodded in response as you continued to look around the room in search of your camera when you heard the door close, the lock falling in place.

“Max? Did you just lock the door?”

Lando lifted his head from his place on the floor, where he was looking under the dresser, at your insinuation. He quickly changed his position to sit up, staring at the door with you.

“Yes, I did. The two of you need to make up. I won’t let you out until you get along. I can’t handle the two of you fighting anymore. It’s really fucking annoying,” he said through the door.

You looked at Lando in shock, to find him already staring back at you.

“Max, you can’t do this! What the fuck is wrong with you! Let us out!” You yelled as you knocked on the door.

When he didn’t react, you hit the door again, “Max!”

You looked at Lando at the lack of response, “Do something!” You said, but he merely looked at you.

“What am I supposed to do? Knocking the door won’t help. I actually think it might be a good idea for us to talk everything out.”

You looked at Lando in shock. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged while he stared at you, and you shook your head in response.

“I’m not doing this,” you said, pacing around the room while Lando followed you with his eyes as he sat on your brother’s bed, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you said, opening the window.

“What are you doing?” Lando asks, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated, sitting on the window sill, throwing one leg outside.

“What have I done to you to make you this angry? I can’t believe you’d rather fall out of a window than talk to me,” Lando frowned.

You let out a choked laugh, mouth open in shock. “Are you serious? You don’t know what you’ve done?” You said as you sat on the window sill, one leg outside the window, the other still on the floor.

“Yes. Please tell me, because I’ve obviously missed a lot if you’re willing to climb out of a window. By the way, stop climbing out of the window!” Lando said, all but running to prevent you from dangling your other leg out of the window too. It was already halfway there, leaving you in a very uncomfortable position when Lando grabbed your leg.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N!”

“No, I’m not,” you grunted out as you tried to kick him away. You leaned away from him, losing your grip on the windowsill at the exertion. Lando could barely catch you before you fell out of the window.

“Fuck, Y/N! I told you to get away from the window!” He yelled as he pulled you away from it and back into the room before quickly closing the window. He stood in front of it as if he was trying to block your way from the window, trying to block your escape.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t be such a baby, I’m fine.”

“Only because I was holding your leg.”

“If you weren’t holding my leg I wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” You stepped closer to him, huffing in defiance.

Lando sighed, but he didn’t respond. He kept silent while he stared at you, challenging you as you crept closer without breaking eye contact. The tension in the room was palpable, and it only increased the longer you stared at each other. Your breath was shallow from the adrenaline of your near-fall, and your glare was met with a look of annoyance. Lando’s hands hung limply by his sides, the complete opposite of a mere moment ago when he grabbed you with such urgency.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Lando's voice was low, strained with frustration.

"Me?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You're the one who's always so demeaning, so... so infuriating!"

"Infuriating?" Lando repeated, scoffing. "Coming from the girl who sabotages my Netflix and sets up kiddie tables for me?"

"You deserved it," you retorted, folding your arms and looking down. "You always mock me and belittle everything I do, every achievement, every effort… Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Lando’s confidence faltered at your confession. His eyes softened, and he took a small step closer, stroking your arm softly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I thought... I thought we were just joking around, teasing. I didn't realise-"

"Didn't realise what?" you interrupted, eyes brimming with tears. "That your words actually affect me? That I care what you think?"

Lando's hand reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost adoring, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."

You closed your eyes, breathing out through your nose as you let the apology sink in. When you opened them again, the regret you saw in his eyes made you believe him. But it was the love and adoration in his gaze that convinced you.

"Lando..." you began, but your voice caught in your throat.

Before you could finish, Lando closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was longing. Slowly, almost apprehensively, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in an uncertain kiss.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by the warmth spreading through your body. Almost automatically, your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The kiss deepened, filled with your pent-up frustration and unspoken feelings. Your hands slid up Lando's neck and you ran your hands through his hair, pulling on it softly. The sensation of Lando's hands on your body, and his lips against yours felt right, making everything else fade away.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Lando’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze, and you were certain your eyes showed the same.

“What… what just happened?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was now slightly tousled from your fingers. “I don’t know. But it felt… right.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of all of the emotions running wild inside you. “We can’t just pretend this didn’t happen, Lando.”

“I don’t want to,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours.

You laughed softly at the situation, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arms around you straight away.

“This is not what I expected to happen,” you whispered.

Lando chuckled softly. “Me neither, but it’s not so bad, is it?”

You snuggled into his neck, sighing contently once you were comfortable. No, it wasn't bad at all.

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