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mrsshabana · 4 months

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𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two ✧:･ﾟ→ Part three

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college.

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it.

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that.

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn.

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around.

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked.

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking.

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen.

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall.

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind.

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him.

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone.

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients.

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables.

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients.

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister.

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister.

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen.

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before.

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro.

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate.

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full.

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here.

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation.

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk.

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously.

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.”

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good.

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside.

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…”

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up.

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place.

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him.

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered.

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected.

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals.

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones.

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate.

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.”

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction.

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can. I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day.

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness.

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had.

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying.

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional.

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water.

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired.

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion.

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug.

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes.

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks.

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird.

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder.

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison.

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl.

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath.

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient.

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles.

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says.

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds.

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you.

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless.

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds.

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness.

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person.

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #ume shabana #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #age difference #kaigaku #douma

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daisynik7 · 11 months

Text

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts.

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami.

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both.

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile.

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more.

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should.

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass.

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company.

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him.

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is.

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you.

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you.

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra.

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom.

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth.

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does.

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes.

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself.

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.”

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her.

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore.

Taglist: @chiyoso

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sweet like honey #a bento for kento

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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

Text

hitchhiker || chapter six || the proxies

tw: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: teehee smut😛 virginity loss, overstimulation

a/n: i am happy to announce hitchhikers is now on Ao3! find the link posted with the hitchhiker masterlist: here

<— previous chapter

Nova felt like she was slipping. Her hands were shaky as she grabbed her coffee mug. The hot liquid swished around in the ceramic cup, threatening to spill onto her hand.

Carefully she took a sip, breathing deeply. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept more than an hour. She was so close to solving the Winston case, her insomnia would have to wait. Nova considered herself to be a logical person. Thats why she knew the tall man she was seeing wasn’t real. She decided to ignore her delusions and seek therapy once the case was over. After all, an impossibly tall man with no face couldn’t possibly exist.

She noticed him for the first time in her kitchen, the strange being observing her from outside of her window. Nova freaked out, a panic anxiety sending her into a short lived frenzy. Her heart was the only sound she could hear, the organ threatening to fail. She had to rationalize her thoughts. To understand working long hours and living off of coffee and nicotine wasn’t healthy. So she ignored what she deemed to be illusions her mind was creating.

As time went on her symptoms began to worsen, faint static and the paranoia of being watched progressing. Nova ignored them all, satisfaction washing over her as she studied her report. She had invited you to her office to share the good news. The news that made all of her torment and suffering worth it. Nova Parker had solved the homicide of Detective Winston.

Originally you hadn’t thought much into Novas invitation. Toby opted to help you make blueberry muffins, stealing a few for himself of course. It was refreshing, her invitation was. It got you out of your apartment and you got to see your best friend. What more could you ask for? You had only managed to speak to Nova a few times on the phone. You tried not to burden her with the details of your life. You briefly mentioned your suspected break in and how the boys had stayed around for your protection. Nova had enough on her plate. She didn't need your paranoia on there too. The detectives down at the station knew you, your presence unquestioned as you led Toby down the small hallway. “Y-you’re sure she’s n-n-not going to h-have an issue with me being here?” Toby questioned. He knew if he didn’t like Nova, there was no way she liked him.

“You helped make the muffins. You deserve a thank you at least,” You said calmly. Truthfully you brought Toby for your own comfort. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been in public alone. Toby made you comfortable, the brunette excited to be attached to you at the hip. After your kiss with Brian your thoughts had wondered to pure filth. Many which included Toby alone, but even more including Brian, Tim, and Toby all together. You couldn’t deny the throbbing that was beginning to form in your core. You knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore your body’s hunger for much longer.

You knocked on Nova's office door, your exhausted best friend opening the door. Black circles decorated her eyes, her skin dry and hair pulled into a sloppy bun. "Hey Nov," You greeted, instantly greeting her with a hug. Nova hugged you back, her eyes meeting Toby's over your shoulder. "What is he doing here?" She questioned. You pulled away from the hug, lifting up the foil to show Nova the plate of blueberry muffins. "We thought you might be hungry, so we made you something to eat," You told her. Your eyes narrowed at the sight of Nova's visible disapproval. She took the plate from Toby, giving him a fake smile. "Thank you for the muffins. Would you mind waiting in the hallway for a moment?" She asked. Her question sounded more like a command more than a mild suggestion.

Toby stood there unmoved, awaiting your instructions. "It's okay Toby just give us a moment," You say. Toby nodded, heading into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. "You should be nicer to him, he helped me make those muffins for you," You told Nova. She rounded her desk, lifting up the foil and eyeing the food suspiciously. "Did you supervise him when he made these?" She questioned. You couldn't understand her harsh tone. "No? We made them together," You answered. You watched in horror as she tossed the plate in a nearby trashcan. "Hey! What the fuck is your problem?" You gasped. Nova took a seat in her large desk chair, boxes of her belongings still packed in the room around her. She had been given Detective Winston's office and had not made a single effort to make herself comfortable.

"Did you even see my interview on the news?" Nova asked abruptly. You noticed the way her fingers strummed against her desk nervously. "No? Was I supposed to?" You asked. Nova rolled her eyes. "If you cared about my well being or this case at all, yes," She answered blandly. Behind her you noticed an old school chalkboard, one that was covered in scribbles and barely readable cursive handwriting. "Nova I'm not a detective-" You began, Nova raising her hand to stop you. You couldn't understand her odd behavior. "This case is putting a target on my back. I can't take any risk right now. I have to solve this case before it gets me killed," Nova explained.

You glanced at the muffins discarded in the trash can. "So you think someone is going to poison you?" You asked. Nova stood up, pushing her chair aside. "If I told you something that sounded crazy you'd trust me, right?" She asked. She leaned against the desk, your eyes widening. "Because I don't want you to forget. It's us, it has always been us against everyone else," Nova reminded you. You noticed the wrinkles in her uniform and a faint brown coffee stain on the bottom of her button up. "O-okay?" You agreed slowly. Nova took a deep breath, her eyes bewildered as she met your confused gaze. "That night on Halloween was when Winston was killed. Based on your location, when you picked up your hitchhiker loverboys you were only two miles away from Winston's body," Nova started.

You hadn't thought about it in a while, Nova and you sharing locations. You had no reason to. You never snooped on where Nova was and you assumed the same for her. It was supposed to be for emergencies, the two of you living alone. If you didn't include Nova's German Shepard. "What exactly are you getting at?" You asked sharply. Nova sighed, turning around and facing the chalkboard. "Look Y/n I know that things after Cameron weren't easy. And I knew one day you'd find a rebound. Or in this case, a few of them," She said calmly. You slowly rose from your chair, your eyes furrowing. "But you need to listen to me. I think your hitchhikers are behind this," She told you. She finally faced you, the color having drained from your face.

"On what principle? Because they were partying in the woods? We were too if you don't recall," You hissed. You walked up to the chalkboard, examining the scribbles. "Nova you need some sleep. Half of this isn't even legible. You're not making sense," You say calmly. In a swift motion she was on you, her hands roughly grabbing your upper arms. "Wake up! There is three of them. They mysteriously came from the woods with no way of getting home? Near the scene of the crime?!" Nova exclaimed. She shook you violently, your eyes widened in fear. "They cosplayed as hitchhikers I know it. They are only using you to get closer to me. Don't you see?" She asked.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, your eyes flickering back and forth. You searched her gaze for any sign of humor. For any sign that this wasn't real. Once you realized she was stone cold serious, your gaze hardened. "How fucking dare you!" You screeched. You pushed her off of you, causing her to take a couple of steps backwards. It was then Toby pushed his way back inside of the office, jumping over Nova's desk. He was eerily calm, his sights focused on you. His eyes searched your body for any sign of harm, his slender body standing in between you and Nova.

"For fucking starters. Stop calling them hitchhikers like its a goddamn slur! At the end of the day they're my friends above all else. And even if they were more or if they weren't, it's none of your business!" You bellowed. You were unbelievably pissed, anger washing over you. "You need to listen and Toby needs to-" Nova started, pointing towards the door. Toby stood unmoving, awaiting your command. "Toby isn't going anywhere. You know what Nova? Can you really just not stand to see me happy?" You hissed. Nova gasped, her worn out face hardening. She went to take a step towards you, Toby silently blocking her way.

"Do you not understand? The reason your apartment was broken into was because of this!" Nova snapped. She untucked her button up, revealing a vanilla folder tucked into her waistband. "This is what they were looking for," She said, slamming it onto her desk. She glared up at Toby, who on the inside was fighting the urge to slice her in half. "I'm onto you asshole, I won't stop until you're all in jail or on the other end of my python," Nova snarled. Toby allowed you to push him behind you, your protectiveness flattering him. "That is enough!" You growled. A knock on her office door interrupted the argument, two of Nova's officers watching the scene unfold. "Everything alright in here ladies?" The first one asked, his gaze cautiously flickering to Toby.

"Everything is just fine. We were just leaving," You said firmly. You grabbed Toby's wrist, dragging him towards the door. Nova tried to stop you, her hand managing to reach your shoulder. "Please just wait, listen to me," Nova pleaded. You shoved her arm off, giving her a look so cold it could kill. "I don't recognize you anymore," You spit, watching her face fall. With those words craved in stone, you led Toby back home.

Toby could see you were upset. The entire walk home you were silent, your face revealing that your mind was easily in a frenzy. Even as Toby quietly grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers with his, your gaze remained hardened. Once the two of you entered your apartment, you sat down on the couch in defeat. You were on the verge of tears, tossing your beanie aside. Toby kneeled in front of you, frowning at the sight of tears flooding your waterline. "I-I'm so sorry Toby I never should have brought you. She's gone mad," You whimpered.

Toby nuzzled his way in between your knees, bringing his bandaged hands to your face. "Hey i-it's okay," He said softly. His thumbs lovingly stroked your cheeks, wiping away a salty tear. Your watery eyes met his, placing your hands on top of his. Your touch was nice and warm, Toby's heart began to pound as you leaned in closer to him. He melted into you as you brought your lips to his. Toby tried to copy your motions, his inexperience beginning to show. You didn't seem to care, your lips working against his as his teeth clashed with his. You swiped your tongue on his lower lip, requesting access.

Afraid you'd feel the gash in his cheek, Toby pulled away with wide eyes. You noticed immediately, feeling guilty. "Holy shit I'm so sorry," You gasped, your face turning red. Toby swallowed, gaining the confidence to bring his lips back to yours. You raked your fingers through his chestnut curls, trying to bring him hopelessly closer to you. "C'mere," You whined. Toby joined you on the couch, crawling on top of you as you laid on your back. As soon as you seemed comfortable his desperate lips found your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. You tilted your head back, whimpering his name. "Fuck," Toby grumbled into your skin. He could feel your hips grinding upwards, his cock growing harder into his jeans.

"H-how far d-do you um-" Toby began to ask, his face flushing pink. You bit the inside of your cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I want you Toby, please," You whispered. Toby grinned down at you, nodding affirmatively. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, helping you toss it over your head. His pupils expanded at the sight of your lacey black bra, your face only growing more red by the minute. His hands were shaky as he reached around you, fiddling with the clasp. "Toby?" You whispered. He finally unclasped the bra, tossing it aside. "Hmm?" He hummed. You looked at him shyly, your nipples hardening from the cold air. "You've never done this before, have you?" You asked softly.

Toby shook his head, trying to focus on your words instead of your breast. "We don't have to," You say, not wanting the brunette to feel pressured in any sort of way. Toby's chocolate orbs met yours, his pupils blown with lust. "I-I want to f-f-fuck you so bad it hurts," He confessed, his confession bordering a plea. He lowered himself to your breast, maintaining eye contact as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, your back arching at the slightest sensation. You couldn't remember the last time you had done anything like this, nevertheless have sex. Toby grazed his teeth over your nipples, a painful whine escaping your throat. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your body on fire with a craving only Toby could satisfy.

He released your nipple with a pop, his lips turning a darker pink. T-that okay?" He asked. You nodded, licking your dry lips. "Please keep going," You whimpered. Toby could've sucked on your breast all day, but he needed more. He kissed down your stomach slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. He couldn't get enough of your facial expressions, his hands shaky as they undid you jeans. You helped him slide them and your panties downwards, discarding them onto the floor. Toby's experience was very minimal. He had only really jacked off and watched porn. He never thought he'd be in this position, his lips kissing your exposed waist.

Your hand ran through his curls, desperately trying to drag him to your aching cunt. Toby dug in his memory, forcing himself to remember everything in porn that made the girl feel good. He nervously licked up your folds, his name falling off of your lips. Toby couldn't quite explain it, but he liked that. A lot. He opened up your folds, examining your drenched cunt. Unsurely, he attached his lips to your clit, watching in amazement as your back arched off of the couch. "F-fuck Toby!" You whined, yanking at the roots of his hair. Toby couldn't feel pain but he could feel the sensation of you desperately wanting more. He sucked at your clit like his life depended on it, his eyes watching you fall apart on his tongue.

Curiously he released your throbbing clit, bringing his warm tongue to your entrance. Toby studied you as he brought it inside of your entrance, your hips grinding against his face. "T-Toby I need more, please," You stuttered, stumbling over your own words. Toby brought two fingers to your cunt, mimicking what he had seen done before. He shoved them inside of you slowly, his cock growing achingly harder at the feeling of your walls around his fingers. "C-curl them upwards for me, please," You pleaded, biting your bottom lip. Toby happily did as instructed, your moans growing louder. He curiously brought his lips back to your clit, sucking at the bud and curling his fingers.

He relished in your unholy sounds as he repeated the motions, finger fucking you mercilessly. He had no perception of how fast he was going, his gaze focused on you. You were falling apart for him, your fingers keeping his head locked in place as he toyed with your cunt. You felt a familiar cord knot inside of your stomach, your thighs squeezing around Toby's head. If he had to pick a place to die, this would be it. Buried in your cunt being squeezed by your thighs. "Toby, i'm gonna cum," You whined. Toby smirked into your folds, grinding his hips against the couch to give himself a little bit of relief.

Seeing you like this, so hot and bothered, was enough to make him cum in his pants. He continued curling his fingers inside of you, brushing against your g spot. The face you made when you came was so erotic Toby wanted to see it again and again and again. He finger fucked you through your high, adoring the feeling of your walls spasming around his fingers as you came. He continued to abuse your cunt, his fingers relentless. "You c-can take it. Give m-me another one," Toby purred, maintaining eye contact as he placed a teasing kiss to your inner thigh. His lips were glossy with your juices, his lips attaching themselves to your inner thighs. He sucked at the sensitive skin, the sound of your whimpers euphoric.

Your legs began to shake, your back arching off of the couch again. Toby was sure your neighbors could hear you and he truly hoped they did. He began to finger fuck you faster, grinning at the sight of the hickies forming over your stretchmarks on your inner thighs. He brought his other hand to your clit, flicking it back and forth. "That's it-t-t. Cum for me. You c-can do it," Toby cooed. Your second orgasm washed over you in a wave, your thighs trembling. Toby went to dive back in between your folds, your hand stopping him. "If you keep making me cum on your face, you won't be able to fuck me," You giggle nervously.

It clicked in Toby’s mind what you were trying to say, the brunette finally emerging from between your thighs. He tossed his shirt over his head, varieties of scars covering his chest. Your fingertips slowly tracing them. You wanted to ask, Toby knew that. He also knew you wouldn’t. “I’m just c-c-clumsy,” He said, before leaning forward. He placed his lips back against yours, groaning into your mouth as you began to fiddle with his belt. With his help he took off his pants and boxers as well, tossing them onto the floor. He pumped his shaft a few times, before rubbing his tip up and down your drenched folds. You whimpered as his cock brushed against your swollen clit.

Slowly Toby guided himself to your entrance, pushing himself inside of you. He leaned forward, his hand finding yours. You laced your fingers with his, sinful noises escaping your lips as he slid inside of you. Toby was practically vibrating with desire, his body shaking as he bottomed out inside of you. With your spare hand you cupped his face. “You alright?” You whispered. Toby met your gaze, squeezing your hands. “Feels so good,” He whimpered. You gave him a small smile, the brunette beginning to move. Your noises were only more encouragement, Toby’s hips beginning to pick up the pace. His cock began to hit your g spot just right, the brunette growing more confident as you made more lewd noises.

“Y-you’re fucking milking m-me,” Toby whimpered, fucking into you harder. You squeezed his hand as he rammed into you, nuzzling his face into your neck. He sloppily sucked at your skin, trying to litter you in as many marks as possible. You couldn’t stop the noises that came out of your mouth, Toby’s cock abusing your g spot. “T-Toby!” You whined, your thighs beginning to shake. You could feel your final orgasm coming, Toby’s hips merciless. For a virgin he was fucking you so roughly you could hardly believe he was one. You bit your bottom lip as nibbled at your neck.

Toby was a stammering stuttering mess, his groans incoherent babbles of how good you felt. You squeezed his hand as you came for the third time, your thighs trembling at the feeling of your release. You were on cloud nine, your body in a state of euphoria as Toby came inside of you. Once he had come down from a little bit of his high, his eyes widened in fear. “Holy f-f-fuck i’m so sorry I did not mean to cum-” He rambled so quickly you barely understood him. He met your fucked out gaze, a cock drunken smile crossing your lips.

“You’re fine, just buy me a plan b, okay?”

Toby would buy you all of the plan b’s in the world just to cum in you over and over again.

—> next chapter

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azrielslittleslut · 1 month

Text

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 10

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, slight angst, a little fluff, the smallest bit of sexual tension

Word Count: 5.7k

series masterlist

Enjoy!

Azriel lounged in the chair next to your bed in the River House, his body stiff from lack of movement, his wings drooping onto the floor behind him. Truly, it was his bed, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that fact for too long, for those thoughts led him into dangerous territory.

He couldn’t think about the fact that you, his mate, had been lying in his bed and going in and out of consciousness for the last four days. Even worse, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

After Elain had bathed you, you had fallen back into a deep sleep- a sleep so deep that Azriel had checked your pulse a few times to make sure you were still breathing. You had woken up once, at Madja’s insistence, to eat something. He had watched you eat every last bite, his body screaming at him to protect you, to help you, but there was nothing he could do. But as you ate, you had looked at him, your eyes empty and dark, and offered him some food.

He had denied it, of course, knowing you didn’t know the meaning of such a gesture. He hadn’t missed the look of hurt in your eyes at his denial, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain it all. Not now, at least.

So here Azriel was, in the same spot he had been in for days, watching you sleep. Madja had said that this sleep was good for you, that it was healing you and helping your body recover from the immense amount of power you had used up. Even though he was worried, he had to admit that the color had returned to your skin. There was a soft glow to your features that reminded him of a fire burning behind a pale screen.

He hadn’t noticed that before, back in your world, but you had been glamoured then. Now, he could see the difference in your features. Your face appeared to be more angular, your limbs longer and more toned. Your lovely hair had a healthy sheen to it, and your lips were fuller. A flare of heat spread through his body as he remembered what it felt like to have those soft lips pressed against his.

You were so beautiful, and Azriel’s heart stuttered at the thought of never talking to you or laughing with you again. He had seen the look of pure grief on your face when you had realized Celeste and Lou were gone, ripped away from your life in the worst way. He knew that if you woke up, no when you woke up, you would have to walk through that dark void, but you wouldn’t walk through it alone. He would be here for you, always.

Azriel sighed as he watched his shadows swirl around your sleeping form. They had been just as restless as he was, always swirling around your body, alerting him if your condition changed. “She will wake up,” he murmured to them, his voice quiet. “She has to wake up.”

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, heavy enough that Azriel’s body tensed, ready to shield you from any possible threat. His family had promised him that they meant no harm toward you, though they had many questions about the whole ordeal. He had answered the ones he could, his worried mind straining to remember all of the details.

Still, his body roared with the primal instinct to protect you at all costs.

Azriel’s body eased when he saw Cassian’s massive frame fill the doorway. Out of everyone, he had been the one who had been the calmest, and Az couldn’t thank his brother enough. Cassian had even offered to take shifts watching over you when Azriel could no longer force his eyes to stay open, his body screaming at him to rest.

“Still asleep?” Cass asked, his footsteps now lighter as he made his way toward Azriel. He leaned against the chair, his wings tucked in tight. “Madja said she should wake up any day now.”

Azriel hummed quietly. “I’m starting to wonder if Madja knows what the hell she is talking about.” He did nothing to hide the bitterness in his voice. He knew the healer was skilled, especially after what she had done for Cassian during the War. But you were different, possessing a power that nobody had ever seen.

What if Madja was wrong?

Cassian was silent for a few moments, his face like stone. “Rhys told me.” He paused for a few seconds as if he were contemplating on what to say next. “About her being your mate.”

Az ground his teeth, his shadows moving frantically around his body. “And what about it?” he growled.

Cass held up his hands, his siphons flaring slightly like red flame. “Easy now, Az. I just want you to know that I understand. Rhys does, too,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “We talked about it earlier. Neither of us could imagine what we would do if we were put in your position.”

“Then why does Rhys keep asking questions? Why does he keep insisting on going into her head to see the truth, even though Y/N doesn’t know the truth?” Azriel had stood his ground each time Rhys had walked into the bedroom, asking if he could use his powers to search your memories. Az knew that Rhys meant no harm in it; he was a High Lord who was trying to protect his people. But with the way Rhys’s magic had been affected lately… A shudder ran through Azriel’s body as he thought of what a slip-up on his brother’s part could do to your already traumatized mind.

Cassian looked down at him, his eyes shadowed. “You haven’t asked how bad things got here since you’ve been back.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” was all Az said. He had been too worried about you to ask any questions. Besides, he didn’t think his mind or body could handle any more stress.

Azriel had asked how long he had been gone, and he had been informed that he had practically disappeared for five days. The only thing he had learned so far was that the timeline between the two worlds went at the same pace, which was a useless piece of information that didn’t help him at all.

“I know,” Cassian responded, moving to stand in front of Azriel, who had to fight back a snarl as he blocked you from his sight. “Which is why I came to tell you. You need to know, Az. The unstable magic is affecting Rhys. Badly. It’s getting to Feyre, too. Nesta is too afraid to use her powers, and Elain’s visions are worse than they’ve ever been.” Cassian’s eyes grew darker, and Az had the sense that he was holding something back.

“What aren’t you telling me, Cassian?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Cassian bit his lip, his wings twitching slightly. “It’s not just affecting them. Last night, I went to do a quick inspection of the Illyrian legions.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and Azriel saw that it was shaking. “Some of the Illyrians are unable to control their siphons. Whole camps have been reduced to rubble and ashes due to their magic lashing out, and the camp lords are at their wit’s end.”

Azriel felt as if ice had been poured all over his body. The Illyrians had magic, like the High Fae, but it had always been different. It was used and channeled in different ways, although now that he thought about it, it all came from the same source.

The chill Azriel felt didn’t only have to do with the unstable magic- he could not give less of a fuck about the Illyrians. He hated those people, the ones who had tortured him and brutalized his mother. He would never forgive them for what they had done, and the thought of them destroying their own camps made him want to laugh.

Good riddance, Azriel wanted to say, but the grim look on Cassian’s face made him think better of it. Besides, even though he hated it, he was an Illyrian, just like Cassian, and if the others’ magic had been affected…

“What about your siphons?” Az asked, his voice low and dark. “Have you been affected?”

Cassian shook his head. “Other than being weaker than usual, nothing odd has happened. But I’m assuming it’s only a matter of time.”

The words hung in the air, and the room fell back into silence. Cassian stepped aside, once again allowing Azriel to look at your sleeping form on the bed. You looked so peaceful, completely oblivious to everything that was going on in the world.

Azriel found himself full of envy at the sight.

“It makes sense now,” Azriel said finally, his voice hushed. “When we came through the portal, it was like my magic had been drained. I thought it was due to traveling between worlds, but now…” He trailed off, his eyes on his shadows. They hadn’t been acting particularly strange, other than their obsession with you.

Still, Azriel decided it would be best to keep an eye on them. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like to have a shadowsinger lose control of his own shadows.

Cassian laid a broad hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother,” he said, his usual optimistic tone returning to his voice. “We will figure this out. Gwyn has been searching through the ancient scrolls, and she thinks she might be on the edge of a breakthrough.”

A soft smile graced Azriel’s lips. Gwyn was stubborn, and if anyone could figure out this whole mess, it was her. “I’m glad to hear that.” He paused for a moment as his mind worked. “I will talk to my spies. See if they can find out anything.” In the chaos of the last few days, he hadn’t even bothered to reach out to his spies in the courts.

He didn’t know if any of them were aware he was alive, or if any of them were dead.

“Good idea,” Cassian murmured, taking a deep breath that reminded Azriel of the controlled breathing techniques his brother used before charging into battle. “So… are you going to tell her?” he asked, his voice carrying a smile that Azriel could almost see through the tone alone.

Azriel looked at you, his mind racing. He had thought of all the ways to tell you about the bond, and he had been unable to come up with anything good enough. He was also afraid of the timing. You have just gone through a massive physical and emotional shock, and he worried that the thought of being soul-bound to someone, being bound to him, would be too much.

“Eventually,” was all Azriel said in response.

Cassian hummed quietly as he made for the door. “I wouldn’t keep it from her for too long,” he said with a laugh. “Rhys had the same idea, and you saw how that turned out.”

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian leave the bedroom. So many decisions to make, so many questions to ask. His head was pounding under the weight of it all, so he leaned back in the chair, his eyes once again locked onto you as you slept.

****

You opened your eyes, your lids heavy with sleep. The bedroom was filled with a dim light, the early morning sun softening all of the harsh edges. You blinked against that light, running your tongue over your dry lips.

Thankfully, you didn’t have any more strange dreams. You had only been met with a peaceful and serene darkness as you slept, your body and mind floating into an endless abyss. You wanted to go back there, not ready to face everything that had happened.

But you had never been one to run away when things got hard. You had known struggles, but you had always risen above them. You didn’t know exactly how to rise above this overwhelming sense of grief and pain, but you knew you had to try.

It was the only way you were going to survive.

Slowly, you moved your arms, pressing your palms firmly against the mattress. When you were not met with any pain or soreness, you pushed yourself up, your body moving with surprising ease. You looked around the room, gasping softly as your senses were overwhelmed with… everything.

Everything around you seemed sharper and brighter as if you had been looking through a fuzzy glass window your entire life. You could hear children laughing outside, the murmur of conversations in the distance. Your nose was overwhelmed with a variety of scents- lavender, jasmine, citrus- and your eyes rolled back as you smelled the delicious aroma of food cooking somewhere.

You raised your arms to look at your hands. They might as well have been a stranger’s hands. Your fingers were longer, your skin perfect and without any spots or blemishes. You looked at your palm, eyes searching for that scar you had gotten when you had fallen off a skateboard as a child. You couldn’t stop the ragged gasp that left your lips.

The scar was gone, replaced by a layer of smooth skin that seemed to glow from within.

You scrambled off the bed, your longer legs getting twisted in the thick blankets. You hit the ground before you could catch yourself, not knowing how to navigate using this foreign body. Your thin nightgown was wound tightly around your legs, and for a moment, you wanted to scream. You felt trapped, totally unable to move, and you couldn’t breathe-

Strong and gentle hands gripped you by the waist, hoisting you back up to your feet. Shadows surrounded your body, as if they were attempting to soothe your discomfort and fear. You raised your face, your eyes squinting against the light.

Azriel’s face was mere inches from yours, his hazel eyes full of concern. This close, you could see a light dusting of freckles on his nose, and you had to fight the urge to trace them with your fingers. “Azzy,” you whispered, your voice foreign to your ears. It sounded different, higher in pitch and tone.

He released a breath, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. He buried his face in your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He was trembling slightly, his wings fluttering behind him. “Fyrvor,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder. “You came back to me.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. You felt your body ease slightly in his embrace. “Where else would I go?” You spoke in a hushed tone, afraid that this was just another strange dream.

But Azriel was very much real, especially in the way his scarred hands moved up your body, his fingers grazing your back and shoulders, stopping once they got to your face. His palms were warm against your skin as he pulled your face up to his. “You’ve been out for days. I was so worried.”

“Do you know how to do anything but worry?” you asked, forcing a small smile to form on your lips, but you knew it didn’t meet your eyes.

Azriel smiled back, though. “I always worry about you. You’re all I think about.” You watched as his eyes moved to your lips, his gaze darkening. The memory of those lips crushed against yours at the ball washed over you, and you felt heat prickle your skin. “How are you feeling?”

Despite your growing desire for him, you took a step back, knowing that you would do something you would regret if you stayed too close. “I feel… strange,” you admitted, once again raising your hands to look at them. “I look strange."

"Do you remember what Madja said?" Azriel asked in a soft voice. “About you not being human?”

You were unable to say anything in response to that, so you only nodded.

Azriel walked over to a dresser in the corner of the bedroom, and you took his momentary distraction to survey the room. You saw the door that led to the bathroom, though your memory of it was murky and dark. The room had a massive four-poster bed, and the twisted bedding atop it was black, paired with silky dark blue sheets. The walls were plain, with no decorations or pictures, and they were painted in a light shade of gray. Though the room was large, it was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs, a nightstand, and a dresser. There was a fireplace along the far wall, its embers burning low.

The style of the bedroom was not feminine, and you suddenly wondered whose bed you had been sleeping in for the past few days. “Where am I?” you asked Azriel, who had grabbed something from the dresser- a small mirror, you realized. “I remember you saying this is the Night Court, but… where exactly?”

A small blush crept up Azriel’s neck as he looked around the room. “This is the River House,” he explained. “It’s the home of Rhys and his mate, Feyre. This is my bedroom.”

You now understood the calming scent that had enveloped you during the short time you had been awake. It was his scent. You had bathed in his bathtub, and you had been sleeping in his bed. Your cheeks started to warm at the realization, so you hastily asked, “Why did you bring me here?”

He tilted his head to the side, and you realized you had asked a loaded question, but you hoped he would ignore it. “If you’re asking why I brought you back to Prythian, it’s because I watched in horror as your entire body went up in flames before my eyes, and I didn’t know if you would live or die.”

Guess he won’t ignore it then, you thought to yourself.

“And I brought you to the River House because I felt you would be more comfortable here than the House of Wind,” he finished, his hazel eyes shadowed. You had the sense that he was leaving out something but, unlike him, you would ignore it. “Does that answer your question?”

“Mostly,” you said with a shrug. “But I assure you, I have a lot more.”

What the hell is a mate? What is a House of Wind? What is wrong with me?

“I know.” Azriel offered the mirror to you, and you silently took it from him. It was small, encased in plain silver, much like the ones back home. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you looked at it- you had expected something more… magical, especially in a world full of magic. “First, I think you should take a look at yourself. Then I will answer any questions you have.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mouth falling open in shock at the woman in the reflection. It was undeniably you, yet subtly transformed. Your face retained its familiar contours, but there was a newfound sharpness- a slight sculpting of your cheekbones and a more defined jawline. Your lips appeared fuller, and your hair was glossier than before.

As you leaned closer, a small detail caught your attention. Your eyes were still the same color, but deep in the depths, you could see a tiny flame flickering, like embers catching fire.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, staggering back from the mirror. It slipped from your grip and shattered onto the floor at your bare feet. “What am I?”

Azriel’s boots crunched on the glass as he caught you in his arms. “You are Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face. “You are changed, but you are still my Y/N.”

Your hands clutched at his leather clothing, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Azriel. There’s fucking flames in my eyes!” You sounded hysteric, but given the circumstances, you didn’t care.

Azriel chuckled softly, and you stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm right now. “I find it rather attractive,” he said plainly.

“Can you be serious? Just for once, can you be serious?” you screamed at him, cementing your words with a hard slap onto his bicep.

Azriel laughed harder this time. “Just a few moments ago, you were wondering if I do anything but worry,” he said through his laughter. “Now you’re yelling at me for being too serious?”

Perhaps it was your body’s reaction from the shock of everything that had happened, but you found yourself laughing too. You smiled up at Azriel, your voice breathless as you murmured, “You’re insufferable, Azzy.”

He ran a thumb gently over your cheek, his calluses running across your skin. “There’s those beautiful dimples,” he whispered as he laid his forehead against yours.

You were suddenly aware of how close he was, his body hard and hot against yours. His shadows swarmed around you as you moved your hands up his arms, lacing them behind his neck. You could feel his warm breath ghosting your cheek as you tilted your face up to his, your eyes searching his for any sign of disgust or hatred.

There was only awe, and something else, something stronger and more passionate. His scent washed over you, muskier and more potent than before. A fire that had nothing to do with the burning ember living inside of your chest spread across your body, and you felt this strange, primal urge to claim him.

“Azriel,” you whispered as you stood on your tiptoes, raising yourself so your lips ghosted across his. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, his skin burning through your thin nightgown. He lifted you up as he moved his head down, his lips so close to yours that you could taste him-

“She wakes,” a female voice drawled from the doorway, full of amusement. “I was starting to question my knowledge of healing.”

You and Azriel sprang apart, both of you breathless as if you had been running. He gently set you down on the floor, and with a firm squeeze on your hips, he stepped away. He turned and faced the woman, his features smooth, all sign of the earlier passion wiped away.

“Madja,” he greeted politely. “I didn’t tell Rhys she had woken up yet.” You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his face, and it was with pure satisfaction that you realized he was upset at being interrupted.

Madja chucked softly. “I heard you two talking,” she stated as she walked into the room. “I figured I should go ahead and do my check-up.” She looked… old, her face filled with wrinkles, but her eyes were clear. She had pointed ears, dark skin, and wind-blown hair.

Azriel nodded once. “Of course.” He glanced over to you, his eyes wary. “Would… would you like me to stay? If not, I can-“

“Stay. Please,” you said, not caring that you cut him off. The thought of him leaving you made your chest tighten in an almost painful way.

He smiled as he took a seat in the chair next to the bed. His shadows rested along his shoulders and wings, seeming content to sit and watch. He looked at Madja, his eyes gleaming. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Madja rolled her eyes. “Illyrians,” she grumbled as she laid a bag down on the bed. “Such busybodies.”

You bit your lip, struggling to stifle a laugh as you peered into the bag, curious about whether any of the healer’s tools would look familiar. She began pulling out various bottles, each filled with liquids that sparkled and swirled. One was a vibrant green, another was an inky black. You thought you caught a glimpse of a needle and some stitches, but other than that, everything was foreign.

“What are those for?” you asked quietly as you looked at the bottles, your stomach rolling at the thought of having to drink one of them.

Madja raised the one with the black liquid. “This one can reverse the effects of a magical spell, such as being turned into a toad or a dragon.” She pointed at the green one that was still lying on the bed. “That one… Well, it’s quite nasty. It’s for those who are afflicted with ‘Mermaid’s Moan.’ If you get too cozy with sea folk and can’t stop singing sea shanties, this will clear it right up- though I’ve heard it burns like hell and tastes like acid.”

You blinked at her, your mouth open in horror. “Please tell me you’re joking,” you shrieked. “I haven’t been around any spells, and I definitely haven’t been… cozy with sea people!”

Madja lowered the bottle, her face warm and gentle. She laid a hand on your arm. “I’m just joking. I find it makes my patients feel more at ease.” She gestured to the bottles again. “These are sleep and healing potions. Nothing harmless, I can assure you.”

You released a breath and nodded. You had done the same thing many times with your own patients, though your jokes hadn’t been focused on magical potions. You glanced over to Azriel, only to find his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He was enjoying this.

You glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. What? he mouthed to you, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

You smiled sweetly at him as you flipped him off.

“Now,” Madja said, pulling your attention away from the smug shadowsinger, “how are you feeling?”

You paused for a moment, truly letting yourself feel your body and mind. “I feel fine,” you admitted quietly. “As fine as I can be anyway, considering what happened a few days ago.” You assumed Azriel had told Madja everything, and you didn’t feel like explaining it all again.

The healer nodded as she placed a hand on your chin, her dark eyes searching your face. She closed her eyes, and your body was overwhelmed with a strange sweet feeling. It took all of your strength to remain standing as an overwhelming calm washed over your body.

After a few moments, Madja pulled her hand away, and the serene feeling left with it. You swallowed as your mouth was left with a strange, metallic taste, like metal. “Was that… magic?”

“Yes. I was checking your body for any sign of injury or ailments,” she explained. She turned her head to Azriel, her eyes soft as she said, “She is fine. It seems her magic is still recuperating, but other than that, I give her a clean bill of health.”

Azriel let out a breath, and his shadows seemed to relax as well. As much as shadows could relax. “Thank the Mother,” he mumbled to himself, but your new and improved hearing allowed you to hear him clearly. “Thank you, Madja. For everything.”

Madja only smiled as she started to gather the bottles, placing them carefully back into the bag. “Wait,” you said, placing a hand on her arm. “What am I? You said I wasn’t human, and I can’t think of any other options here.” You shook your head in disbelief, your eyes searching the woman’s face. “You said I have magic, and you’re just going to leave without giving me an explanation?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel lean forward in his chair, his shadows once again swirling restlessly around him. But you kept your eyes locked onto Madja, and you watched as her face grew grim, her eyes shadowed. “I don’t know what you are,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “You aren’t human, but you are unlike any of our kind here in Prythian. There is something… familiar about you, but I can’t place it what it could be. Your magic is strong and powerful, something old and ancient, and a kind that I’ve never faced in my centuries of living. I think you could even rival the High Lords with the amount of power you have.”

You heard Azriel suck in a ragged breath, but you kept your eyes on Madja, your grip like iron on her arm. “I don’t even know what that means,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. No, don’t cry. Don’t let her see how weak you are.

Madja placed her hand on your arm, her palm warm and soft. “I’m sorry I cannot give you a better explanation, my dear,” she murmured. “But don’t fret. I’m not giving up on searching for answers. I just don’t have any right now.” She glanced over to Azriel, her eyes filled with something like exasperation. “Besides, I think that Illyrian of yours is just as curious as I am. If anyone can figure it out, it’s the spymaster.”

Spymaster. Azriel was a fucking spymaster?

Your mind spun with the amount of new information being thrown at you, and you staggered back. You were held steady by a pair of scarred hands, and you sighed as you leaned into Azriel’s body.

How does he move so fast?

“Thank you, Madja,” he said, his deep voice clipped. “We will call for you if anything changes.”

Madja smiled politely, and with a bow of her head, hurried from the room.

You looked up at Azriel. “Spymaster, huh?” you teased. The title fit him. He was so quiet and broody, and you imagined those shadows, whatever the hell they were, would be quite good at helping with stealth.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Non-human but unlike any of our kind here, huh?” he quipped back with a smile.

“Smartass.”

“I’m your smartass, though.” His tone was warm- genuine, even.

You leaned your head back onto his chest, your eyes staring at nothing. “I still have so many questions, Azzy,” you murmured. “None of this makes sense.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your front, his forearms resting politely on your belly. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We will figure all of this out. Together. But first,” he said, his voice darkening slightly, “we need to do something that is far more frightening.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to think of what could be more frightening than figuring out the truth of who you are. “And what’s that?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

Azriel’s arms tightened around your body as his shadows trailed down your arms, as if they were trying to comfort you in preparation for whatever he was going to say. He took a deep breath, his voice vibrating in his chest as he said, “It’s breakfast time, and my family has been dying to meet you.”

****

“You had one fucking job, Mathias,” the female sneered, her features twisted in disgust. “And you failed. Horribly.”

Mathias cowered on the floor, his body tense, ready for whatever punishment was sure to be given to him. His queen was notorious for her punishments, especially the ones given to those who had failed her.

“Please, my queen,” he pleaded, his face pressed down to the floor. Through the reflection of the dark marble he could see his pale face. The piercings he had put back into his nose and ears gleamed in the dim light of the ramshackle throne room. “I was unprepared, that’s all. I didn’t expect-“

“Didn’t expect what?” The queen’s voice was low, full of sinister intent. “Go ahead and say it, you worthless bastard. Say that you weren’t prepared for the amount of power she has.”

Mathias trembled at her words. His queen was powerful, the most powerful person he had ever met. But that woman had unleashed an amount of power that had rattled his bones and burned his veins. He had barely had enough mind left to open a portal back to Prythian during the whole ordeal.

And that fucking shadowsinger- that good-for-nothing Illyrian brute. Mathias was already dreaming of the ways he would make him suffer when he got his hands on the bastard. He couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off his face.

These common Illyrians, always thinking they are better than everyone else. Little did they know-

“Perhaps I should get rid of you,” his queen continued, pulling his thoughts back to the present. Her heels clicked on the dark marble floor as she paced around him. “There are so many others who have sworn fealty to me. I know they would kill for the chance to help me with this particular quest.”

Mathias dared to raise his head, even though he hadn’t been ordered to. “Please. No. Let me finish this,” he pleaded, his voice full of desperation. “I can do this, your grace.”

The queen looked at him, and he was thrown back as a wave of her dark power hit his body, his head slamming onto the floor. He grunted as the taste of it filled his mouth- decay and rot, a power made to destroy and take. “Did you see where they went? Can you even tell me how to get to her?”

Mathias smiled up at the ceiling. “Yes. They are in Velaris. When she opened the portal, I knew it would take her to the Whispering Woods. If they went there, don’t you think Azriel would have called for Rhysand at once?”

The queen tilted her head to the side, clearly contemplating his words. “Fine. Go get her.” She snapped her fingers, and a dark, obsidian collar appeared in her hands. She threw the collar at him, and his fingers burned as he touched the cold metal. “Take that. You should be prepared this time.”

Mathias nodded, his eyes locked onto the collar. Even in his hands, the darkness of the metal seemed to pull his magic from his body. He had to fight the urge to throw it on the ground, his magic recoiling in the presence of such darkness.

“Go!” the queen ordered, her voice thundering through the room. “Get up!”

Mathias scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbling slightly. He bowed low at the waist. “Thank you for trusting me, your grace,” he said with a strained voice. That damned collar was making it hard to think straight. He slowly stood and turned for the door, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“This is your last chance, Mathias,” she said, her voice like darkness given form. “If you care at all about your life, I suggest you don’t fail this time.”

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#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #dee writes #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #the lost queen #sjmaas #azriel x y/n #azriel x you

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mionemymind · 3 months

Text

Chapter 4: Finding My Way To You

My Rival Series

Series Summary: The time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

Chapter Summary: Wanda is determined to get Y/n back to Evergreen University, but how will she?

A/n: Apologies for the delay. I struggle a lot with writing filler sometimes until I get moments where I'm like "shit that would be cute to write". Hopefully y'all enjoy. (Gif Credits to @samaraweaving)

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Summer Break

“At what point does this obsession with Y/n turn from respect into love?” In their summer home, Wanda layed on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hands fiddled with the green crystal around her neck, a constant reminder of the girl that clouded her dreams.

“What makes you think that I’m thinking about her? I could be thinking about school.” Wanda didn’t have to look to know that Pietro was smirking. While he knew very little about what Wanda felt about Y/n, he did know the ruckus she’s causing to get Y/n back. And that was enough to leave a big impression on Pietro.

“School doesn’t have you paralyzed in your room for three weeks. Not only that, you don’t have any summer courses this year.” Sitting down at the open desk chair, Pietro spun around as he aimlessly looked around Wanda’s room. “And last time I checked, no other person has your eye…well not in the way Y/n does.”

Wanda grabbed the closest pillow, chucking it at Pietro. She hated how quick he could get under her nerves. It usually wouldn’t bother her, but then again, the topic is never really about Y/n.

Wanda hardly ever spoke about Y/n at home or to any of her friends. Of course everyone of her college friends knew of Y/n, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know how badly Wanda thought of Y/n during freshman year of college. They didn’t know how much Wanda wanted to be friends with Y/n and that this stupid rivalry was the closest thing she could get. They didn’t know how much Y/n practically encourages her to be better, to be number one. They didn’t know - no one did.

How could she even tell people? Hey, I have this weird rivalry with Y/n that keeps up every day and night. We’re not even friends though and I may secretly feel something about this. No matter how many times Wanda rehearsed it, talking about Y/n was just as challenging as all her honors classes, maybe even more.

So while keeping it a secret did hurt, it was better this way. Because in some weird twisted way, Wanda loved that she was the only one that understood Y/n at this level, that no one else could understand Y/n like her, even if they tried.

Regardless of how selfish it was, Wanda could not bear the idea of someone else challenging Y/n the same way she did. Because no matter how much she denied herself, Wanda’s thoughts revolve around Y/n. And God forbid, the idea of Y/n’s thought revolving around somebody else would kill her.

‘Does she think about me?’ Wanda sat up, the bitter taste back in her mouth at the thought that maybe Y/n was into other people. ‘I’ve never heard her speak about anybody else before.’ But Wanda was smart. While Y/n may have never spoken directly to Wanda about crushes, she may secretly have one. ‘Oh God, does she have a partner?’

Before Wanda could panic about that, Pietro broke her out of her thoughts. “What are you going to do if Dad doesn’t give Y/n her scholarship back?” Pietro was never the type to get serious around his sister often. While he knew the time and place to fool around, this felt like uncharted territory.

Of course Wanda had her fair share of partners in the past, a mix of boys and girls. But Y/n was different. Not in the way that Y/n captured Wanda’s mind, but in the way that Y/n was the only one mentioned by their father. No one else was ever worth being spoken by. So what made Y/n so different?

Wanda felt nervous under Pietro’s stare. This was the first time she ever really spoke about Y/n and the feeling in her chest was hard to ignore. The room felt hot, her anxiety was through the roof, and the answer was something she simply could not rush.

“Would you think I’m overreacting if I said I would transfer?” Finally taking the courage to look at him, Pietro was stunned by Wanda’s answer. He, as well as any Maximoff, knew how important Evergreen University was for the family. Many generations of Maixmoffs have gone to Evergreen University. There is hardly a generation where you can’t pinpoint at least one Maximoff.

So for Wanda to even entertain the idea of transferring meant the situation was bigger than he could ever imagine.

“I think that…Y/n means something to you - clearly more than you care to let anyone know.” Rolling over to Wanda, Pietro offered a small smile. “And if her not going to Evergreen University affects you a lot, then I will personally try my best to help.”

Pietro may not understand Wanda sometimes, but he certainly will always get her back. “Thanks Piet.”

Getting up from his seat, he couldn’t help but comment, “Nice flannel.”

Looking down, Wanda rolled her eyes, “You could just use your words and ask for it back.”

Wanda took the flannel off. With her hand reached out, she tried giving it back to him. Confused by her comment, Pietro slowly grabbed the flannel and held it up. Quickly confirming his thoughts, he gently threw it back to Wanda.

“That’s too small for me. Bummer that it’s not my size because I do like it.” Racking her brain, Wanda vividly remembered having it on when Pietro dragged her from the library one night.

‘Was I the only one there?’ The night felt too far away to really remember, but the gut feeling she had couldn’t be ignored. ‘Who else would be there on a Saturday night?’

Pushing her thoughts away, Wanda dismissed Pietro, her thoughts still lingering on Y/n.

“Can you tell me more about Y/n?” The siblings were eating breakfast outside prepared by the cook. Their parents were somewhere in town, enjoying company from school.

“What do you want to know?” Pushing her plate away, Wanda overlooked the view from the backyard. A vast forest lay before them as well as acres of land, something that has been passed through many generations.

“What makes her so important to you?” The question almost made Wanda scoff. It almost felt like a form of punishment having to fully confess to the world what she thought of Y/n. But the guilty feeling of denying what she felt about Y/n consumed her more.

Why did she keep Y/n a secret from everybody? It’s not like Y/n was a bad person…but then again, why would Wanda want to share somebody like Y/n? Why would she share her?

“I…” There were multiple ways she could go about this. Wanda could downplay the whole thing hoping that Pietro would never ask again, but this was her brother. Pietro was a lot of things and stubborn was one of them.

Wanda sighed. Lying was going to get her nowhere, especially since Pietro vowed to help her out. “She drives me like no other.” Subconsciously, her hand goes back to her crystal, the one she rarely takes off. Not being able to see Y/n was torture and knowing next semester was still a major if caused even more pain. “It’s like finally finding the reason the world makes sense. I follow so many rules and orders from Mom and Dad that I hardly feel like I understand why things are the way they are. But with Y/n…”

Looking at the sky filled with clouds, Wanda couldn’t help but try and feel like she was back at school. ‘Cause maybe she could somewhat feel like she was back with Y/n.

“She makes me not hate the person Mom and Dad made me into. That being like this was a choice rather than something I was forced to do.” The pressure of being a Maximoff was tough, something only Pietro and some cousins knew. But at a very young age, more pressure was put on Wanda’s shoulders compared to Pietro’s. The two never really understood why but instead were forced to live with it. “She drives me to be better in ways that I would’ve never done on my own.”

Looking back at Pietro, Wanda saw that he had this blank stare, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react. “She’s important because for the first time in my life…I quite like being smart. I like studying and going to class. I like being number one. I like me.”

Quickly, her mind thinks back to the tournament and the awful letter written by Dean Holloway, and suddenly being number one was the last thing she wanted for herself.

“She sounds remarkable.” Pietro finished his food, throwing Wanda a smile.

Feeling herself blush from her confession, Wanda looked back down at the crystal. “Yeah…she is.”

Sitting in his office, Eric Maximoff sat staring at the offer letter he had rewritten countless of times, the moment between him and his daughter replayed constantly as he made sure to perfect this offer.

Although he realized just how stubborn his daughter was, the threat that replayed in his mind was like no other. There was no tantrum, no screaming, and no begging. That was unlike any argument in the past. This ultimatum almost terrified him if it weren’t the power he held at Evergreen University.

So while he may have hated the idea of bringing Y/n back, someone who could easily challenge Wanda’s place, he didn’t dare entertain the idea of her going to a different university. Something that would easily bring shame to the family.

The knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” Slowly opening the door, Wanda entered timidly, unsure of the reason she was called.

Beckoning her forward, he slipped the manila envelope towards the edge of the desk. Slowly, she took the envelope and grabbed the letter inside.

“This will be mailed tomorrow first thing in the morning.” Wanda’s eyes widened at the words she was reading. Her mind reading faster than her eyes can go.

Y/n Y/l/n,

On the behalf of Evergreen University, we would like to grant you your scholarship back in full. Much deliberation has been made on your behalf as we have realized the mistake that was made to revoke your scholarship. We do hope you take this letter as a sign of apology for this catastrophic mistake.

Your scholarship will be found posted for your Fall Semester should you return back to Evergreen University. Please respond to this request on your attendance. We certainly hope to see you again.

Eric Maximoff

President of Evergreen University

Analyzing Wanda’s reaction, Eric could feel himself relax at the sight of Wanda’s smile. He didn’t have many close moments to his daughter, so this was certainly one that he wished to be on the right side of.

“I will let you know when my staff receives word of her response.” This was more than what Wanda could have asked for. The feelings inside her could hardly be contained as she realized that her father explicitly wrote this letter and not Dean Holloway.

‘He cares.’ Looking back at Eric, Wanda didn’t want to wait all summer to know of Y/n’s response. Racking her mind, she spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“I want to see her.” Once again, there was that fire in her eyes. Something Eric had never seen before. “Let me be the one to deliver to her.”

Freshman Year - Fall Semester

“Hey Y/n!” A brunette sat by Y/n, someone that Wanda hardly remembered. Her overly enthusiastic attitude caught Wanda’s attention but the proximity between them held her focus. “Would you be able to tell me your address back home? Marketing majors are currently needing it to better research the upbring of our students and what possible trends we may be able to assume based on the data.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the load of bullshit that came out of that girl’s mouth. Why in the hell would a class require that much personal information? Like full on government address? It was a trick. But what pissed Wanda off more was the fact that Y/n was willing to give out her information like this.

And although Wanda was mad, she couldn’t help but also write down Y/n’s address, in case she were to ever use it in the future.

Wanda’s hand clenched and unclenched right before the door. Doubt paralyzed her body like never before. Her feet hadn’t moved in five minutes and by now, the sun was making her skin blaze with how long she had been there.

Wanda Maximoff was petrified. While everything in her life usually stressed her out, something about this was different. Never in her life has something affected her this much. So as she stood right outside the Y/l/n home, she couldn’t help but think of all the what if’s.

What if Y/n doesn’t want to speak with her? What if she doesn’t even care to open the envelope and continue to go to her home university? What if this whole thing was the most stupid idea on Earth?

So before she could run away, act like this never happened, she closed her eyes and knocked on the door.

Waiting on anybody to open up the door was grueling, but as Wanda backed away from the patio, she took a good look at the exterior of the house. With white and gray paneling, the house appeared to be a country style home that was right at the coast. The waves from the beach were crashing so loud, it almost sounded like it was in Y/n’s backyard.

The drive was almost an hour away from the airport, but thankfully a money hungry cab was willing to take her but double the rate. The last major thing that Wanda noted was just how peaceful the house seemed. It wasn’t a mansion but by no means was the house small.

There was a disconnected garage near the house as well as the nice front garden. Hardly any neighbors around and by the looks of it, the greenery coming from the forest across the road was a sight to see.

All of it felt so odd. ‘Did Y/n actually grow up in a place like this?’

And as if the Devil called for her, the door opened wide. Wanda’s name was called by the very person she missed the most.

“Maximoff?” Slowly turning around, Wanda could feel her heart beat out of her chest. The carry-on bag she was holding suddenly felt too heavy and all she could focus on was, ‘Y/n wears glasses?’

They were simple square tortoise shell frames, yet something about them felt so innocent, like a child telling their best friend their first ever crush in life. Feeling herself blush, Wanda cleared her throat, almost forgetting why she was there.

“Hey.” Nothing more could come out as Wanda continued to look at Y/n, her white shirt and sky blue striped shorts were harder to ignore. The cherry on top was the slightly messy hair. If Wanda could some up this whole moment, it was that Evergreen University robbed her of seeing this Y/n. And by all means, she wanted compensation. “Can I come in?”

Regardless of how confused Y/n appeared to be, she still let Wanda in her home. The brunette could tell that her rival had a lot of questions yet didn’t want to be rude about it. Before the conversation could continue, the loud sound of heels strutting forward caught their attention.

“Honey! I didn’t know you had guests.” Out came an older woman in business casual dress. Her face felt youthful but her eyes showed a lot of wisdom in them. Like a fish out of water, Wanda almost felt confused at the immediate hug that she was pulled into. “I’m Maria, Y/n’s Mom. And who must you be?”

Wanda almost fainted at how quick Maria’s eyes were to analyze her. Hoping she wasn’t too underdressed, Wanda responded with, “I’m Wanda Maximoff, Y/n’s classmate.”

Maria’s smile slightly faltered as she took a longer look at the girl in front of her. Suddenly, everything made sense to the older woman as she looked back to Y/n, almost trying to confirm if this was the girl. And Y/n hadn’t needed to even say a word, as her mother took the silent look in her eyes as the confirmation she needed.

“Oh dear, it’s finally nice to put a face around a familiar name.” Wanda refused to look at Y/n as she continued to make eye contact with Maria. The newfound knowledge that Y/n actually speaks about her to her parents was more than she could take. “I’m glad you’re finally able to visit us.”

“I hope I’m not intruding.” Maria clicked her tongue and led Wanda deeper into the house where the kitchen was.

While Maria focused on getting fresh lemonade from the fridge, Wanda gravitated towards the view from the kitchen. The large windows that practically covered a large chunk of the wall showcased the backyard and all of its beauty.

Correct with her assumptions, the house was exactly on the coast. It overlooked a large part of the ocean as well as the land that curved with it. From what she could tell, there seemed to be a pathway that led down to a dock with two boats anchored to it.

“Here’s some fresh lemonade. You must be so exhausted from the flight and the drive.” Maria looked over at Y/n with a disapproving look. “You should’ve picked her up. You know better than to let guests drive from there.”

“Oh no - this was a surprise ma’am. Y/n had no idea I was coming at all.” Maria looked over at the bag that Wanda was still carrying, motion for Y/n to grab it.

“I’m assuming you’ll be staying here?” Wanda couldn’t tell if she was already over welcoming her stay. Reading Y/n’s expression was hard as her rival grabbed the carry on from her hands.

“Well-”

“Please, it would be an honor to have you here. The closest hotel is more than thirty minutes away unless you’ve rented a closer airbnb?” Wanda remembered the rentals nearby that offered one night stay at their detached suites. Unfortunately, the starting price was $1000.00 each night. Although her family could afford it, it was unreasonable to ask them to pay for such things. “So what do you say?”

Wanda looked at Maria, her eyes were practically pleading for Wanda to stay but as she looked back at Y/n, she couldn’t understand what was behind those brown eyes. ‘Did she want me to stay?’

But before she could overthink, the slight nod Y/n gave made her smile. “I guess I have a hotel to cancel.”

Maria squealed in delight as she grabbed her phone from the counter. “Don’t worry about that dear. I know the owner and they will be able to cancel for me. Why don’t you go ahead and settle into the guest room beside Y/n’s. How long will you be staying with us?”

Before she could respond, Y/n finally spoke, “Two weeks. She’s going to be keeping me company while you and father go to New York.” Wanda didn’t know how it was possible but somehow, Maria’s smile grew even bigger. “Let’s go.”

Giving a small wave towards Maria, Wanda followed behind Y/n, looking at the various walls that were decorated with family pictures. Feeling overwhelmingly alarmed by the lack of reaction from Y/n, Wanda was thinking of ways to explain her attendance.

Was it better to go with the ‘I really want you to come back to Evergreen University for my sake because I miss you’ or ‘the University made a mistake and wants you back. They simply asked me to deliver it to you’? Regardless, no explanation or lie felt satisfactory.

“Welcome to your room.” The door was slowly pushed open by the light coming from the backyard touched the hallway. With its warm glow, the sky blue room felt more comforting. As Wanda slowly walked in and marveled at the size of it, Y/n dropped the bag off at the luggage rack beside the dresser.

Touching the wall the shiplaps, Wanda grew impressed at how clean everything was. “There’s a private bathroom at that door with a connecting closet. Any spare linens and towels you will need are in there. Plus, if you don’t have enough hygienic products, the drawers under the sink should provide enough options for you.”

Y/n clicked her tongue, thinking of any other rules she needed to inform Wanda. “Since it will be just you and I, you don’t have to worry too much about how you dress. Everything in the house is free for you to tour around besides my parent’s room and my father’s office.”

Y/n walked to the other side of the room, opening the glass door that pushed out, allowing the whole room to be open to the backyard. “We don’t really have bugs over here so if you want to have a nice breeze, just open the door like this. But at night, just remember to lock it up for security purposes.”

Y/n pulled the door back along its place causing a slight click when everything returned to normal. “I know you must be tired so I’ll let you get situated. In like three hours, I’ll take you out for dinner. Is ramen and sushi fine with you?”

Wanda blushed at Y/n’s stare. Sure, there were countless times they’ve looked each other in the eye, but something about this felt new. Like they weren’t rivals but simply friends. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

“Perfect. Let me take care of some things before my parents leave for their trip.” Y/n grabbed the door handle.

“Wait - Y/n,” Y/n looked back to Wanda, “thank you.” With a small smile, the brown eyed door closed the door allowing Wanda to finally relax.

“How am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad that you decided to take an impromptu vacation at Y/n’s? I mean, didn’t you just get Dad to accept her coming back?” Pietro groaned over the phone, feeling unbelievably stressed at the situation his sister put him in.

“You’ll figure out a way because you owe me. You know I wouldn’t do such a thing like this at all.” Wanda got off the bed as she hung up the wet towel on the hook. She looked up at the clock noticing that she had around thirty minutes left before Y/n would come to get her.

“That’s what makes me worry. This isn’t like you. Usually you hate spontaneous things, always preferring to know what’s going to happen in the next month with as much detail as possible.” Wanda grabbed the blow dryer under the sink, preparing to end the conversation with Pietro. His opinions echoed loudly in the room as Wanda stood trying to figure out why she hadn’t spoken up to correct Y/n earlier.

“I don’t know why…but it’s like Y/n brings out a different side of me. It comes with so much uncertainty that it scares me.” Looking over herself in the mirror, Wanda could predict just about everything in her life. To when she’ll probably get married, receive a nobel prize, build her dream house, and start a family, everything was just so calculated. “Like what if I make a fool of myself?”

Pietro was silent for a second, knowing his words would have a deep impact on Wanda. With a sigh, he said, “Wands…I honestly do hope you make a fool of yourself. Because you’ll be one step closer to realizing that the unpredictable part of life is what makes the stress and worries so much more worth it.”

There was a knock on the other side of the door. Pietro had covered the phone and yelled, “Coming!”

“Look, I gotta go. I think Mom and Dad are wanting to get dinner outside. I’ll let them know about the change of plans. Just keep me updated, okay?”

“I will. Bye Piet, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m not getting in that thing.” Wanda stood outside the garage, the contraption that Y/n called a car by no means looked safe to even drive.

“Maximoff, I promise it’s safe. Plus, it’s a small town meaning less likely for crashes and hardly a long driving time.” Y/n leaned up against the driver’s side. The cocky smile on her face made Wanda blush.

“For God’s sake, it doesn’t have doors.” Wanda pointed out, hoping that Y/n would want to use the car beside it.

“It’s a Jeep, Maximoff. That’s the whole point.” Y/n hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition. Soon, the roar of the engine and the bright lights came on. Rolling forward, Y/n stopped right beside Wanda.

With her right arm behind the passenger seat, the messy beach curls in her hair, Wanda could’ve sworn that she was at the wrong place. Because where did the Y/n from Evergreen University go? The one that would stay in the library just as long as she did. The one that was just as focused on academics as she was.

Because never would she have imagined that this would be the same Y/n. The one that feels like academics is just a side thing in her life. ‘Did our competition rob me of seeing the real you?’

“Please don’t make me drag you into this. I’ll even grab my motorcycle helmet-”

“You have a motorcycle?!” There Y/n goes again, with her ever loving cocky smile. Like she knew that Wanda was scared and was enjoying it. And if this is what Y/n looked like with a little bit of confidence, imagine what a lot would do.

“Look, we can ride that on a different day. Now for the love of God Maximoff, please get in the car and let me take you out to eat.”

Looking into those brown eyes, Wanda could only think one thing, ‘How could I ever deny her?’

So as much as she reluctantly wanted to get in, she took a deep breath and hopped inside. “If we crash, you owe me your life, Y/l/n.”

True to Y/n’s word, the town was close. One minute, the curves of the roads were surrounded with a vast forest. The alpine smell constantly surrounded them. Feeling the wind through her hands, Wanda almost missed the second that the coast came back.

“Maximoff, look.” The sun sprawled on their skin with its last minutes in the sky. It was as if the sun demanded to be looked at with its blend of colors. And as they go back through a row of trees that arched over the road, Wanda couldn’t help but be entranced by it all.

And at the very last mile of the route, right at the opposite side was the coast. Capturing Wanda's attention, she didn’t dare to focus on how close the car was to the guard rail, only trusting the fact that Y/n would never crash. Instead, Wanda focused on how at this very moment, her and Y/n shared the same view and the same admiration for the role. And that was enterally hers.

It wasn’t until Y/n pulled into the parking lot of the ramen and sushi place that she realized the ride was over. The coast was still perfectly in view and appeared to be around a 5-10 minute walk. If she wasn’t so hungry, Wanda would have almost asked to ditch the restaurant and just sit at the beach.

So as they walked inside, the brunette simply hoped that on some other day, they could have that talk on the beach. But for now, the food sounded amazing.

“Booth for two please.” Wanda stood close behind Y/n as the waitress looked at Wanda with almost a surprised look.

“Follow me this way, Y/n.” The restaurant was small in size but was filled with a lot of character. On the main side of the restaurant was a large counter that had an up close view of the chef’s making the sushi. Right on the opposite side were small booths that could fit a family of four. However, that was all the space the restaurant had.

Seated at the back left corner, the waitress walked away to get their complimentary entrees and water. “So, what do you think? I know it’s rather small but I promise, the food is absolutely amazing. My family knows the chef personally and he makes the best everytime.”

“It seems like your family knows a lot of people. First the local hotel manager and now the head chef of this business.” Wanda lightly joked as the shrimp tempura and miso soup was placed between them.

“Are you two ready to order?” Grabbing her pen and pad, the waitress mainly looked at Y/n for approval. Although there was no inkling that the girl was interested in Y/n, the sour thoughts of it made Wanda slightly frown.

“Hey Chelsea, can we actually get my usual and can you add the tonkotsu ramen?” Chelsea flashed a pretty smile as she collected the menus, knowing it was rather pointless to have even set them out.

“Sure thing. We’ll have that right up for you.” Y/n smiled back as she focused back on Wanda. “Sorry about that. But yeah, my family is pretty connected with the town. I think how small the population is, everyone's parents had known each other from high school. And I guess it’s the same with me. Majority of the people I grew up with either stay or leave for a bigger city.”

“What about you? Are you wanting to leave this place?” Y/n thought it over as she finally grabbed her own boul to pour some miso soup.

“I’ve thought about it. Leave the town for a couple years. See what it’s like out there. But I know myself. I’ll probably end up coming back here.” Blowing on the spoon, Y/n took her first sip, enjoying the rich flavor of it.

“Coming back to a place like this must be nice. While I do love my home, something about your little part of Earth has honestly got me jealous.” Y/n smirked, enjoying the fact that Wanda loved her hometown already.

“Life out here feels a bit more simple. Don’t get me wrong though, I do like what Evergreen does bring me.”

Placing her hand under her chin, Wanda leaned closer, wanting to hear more about Y/n’s thoughts. “What does Evergreen have that this place doesn’t?”

Was it delusional to think that maybe Y/n would have said ‘you’ at that very moment? Was it so wrong to want that? Because Wanda couldn’t help but feel that way as she waited for Y/n’s answer. And maybe she would have been satisfied hearing anything if it weren’t for another interruption.

“Here is your food. One sushi platter with a side of edamame for Y/n. And one tonkotsu ramen for you.” Sliding the hot food on the table, Wanda’s appetite suddenly grew large at the ramen in front of her.

“If you need anything else, please let me know.” Not bothering to wait for the food to slightly cool, Wanda began eating, immediately enjoying Y/n’s choice of ramen.

“I know I should be concerned about how you found me,” with cheeks stuffed with sushi, Y/n covered her mouth as she spoke with her mouth full, “but I really don’t care. You have your ways considering you are a Maximoff.”

Swallowing the food, Y/n wiped her face almost full from all the sushi and ramen they had ordered. “But what I do care about is why you decided to come?” Y/n leaned forward as she stared directly into Wanda’s eyes. “It’s a pretty long flight. Not only that, I know you live around an hour or two from Evergreen. So you coming here was not some mere coincidence.”

Sometimes Wanda hated how smart Y/n was and in this very moment, she absolutely despised it. If it weren’t for the somewhat dark atmosphere of the restaurant, Wanda was certain that Y/n would see how nervous she was.

Stuffing more noodles in her mouth, Wanda avoided looking at Y/n, unsure of how to bring up the manila envelope sitting in her room. ‘Would she be mad to find out that I didn’t come here originally to hang out?’

Leaning back in her seat, Y/n grabbed the last piece of her sushi. While pointing the food at Wanda, Y/n said, “Well, regardless of that…I do know that I want you to stay…especially since you’ve gone through the trouble of seeing me.”

Growing up, Wanda hardly grew up with reassurance. Maybe it was because she didn’t really need reassurance. After all, her confidence in her calculated life was what gave her reassurance. So as she stared at the ceiling, unable to get over their conversation at the restaurant, Wanda realized that she craved reassurance.

To be wanted by Y/n felt overwhelming in so many ways. But as her heart beated in rapid ways, she couldn’t help but keep the confession close to her mind and heart. To forever remember it. Because why did it feel so nice to be wanted? Why did something so casually stated have such an impact on her?

Getting up from her bed, Wanda’s thoughts drifted to Y/n again, wondering if she over thought about things too. ‘Has she ever replayed moments of us in her head?’

Shaking her head, Wanda didn’t dare to go to that territory at this time. Already unable to sleep, she slowly opened the door and walked to the kitchen. Looking through the cabinets, she finally was able to find the glass cups. Taking one, she filled it with tap water as she stared at the ocean and the moon.

However, the glow from the firepit caught her eye. Feeling the need to see it closer, Wanda walked to the door and entered the backyard. The stone steps led to the middle of the backyard where the firepit was placed. But as Wanda purposely stepped on the grass, she couldn’t believe how soft it was.

Trekking through the grass, Wanda could see Y/n’s outline sitting at one of the chairs. Once she was close enough, she spoke up and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Wanda sat at the free chair that was beside Y/n, enjoying the warmth that the firepit had provided. “A little bit. How about you? Missing home already?”

The ocean was loud at night, but something about the way it was crashing up against the shore felt relaxing, almost lulling her to sleep. “My mind feels…busy. Can’t sleep with too many thoughts running around.”

“I see…even when the summer is here, your mind stays thinking.”

‘Yeah, but it hasn’t stopped thinking about you.’ Feeling too vulnerable to admit her own thoughts, Wand focused on the fire infront of her.

Letting the silence surround them, the breeze from the ocean and the crackle from the fire pit comforted the two as they sat in their own thoughts. The sounds of nature almost made Wanda’s mind grow silent, like this was the medicine it needed.

But silence could only go on for so long before Wanda grew curious. “I never knew you grew up in a place like this.”

“Well, you never really asked.” Wanda chuckled. This was the Y/n she knew. The one that was always quick witted.

“Well, with a place like this, you must have grown up doing a water sport.” Wanda twisted her position to lay on her side, hoping to make eye contact with Y/n.

“I didn’t do sports really growing up. They only offered the typical stuff like soccer and basketball. I was mainly interested in kayaking and water rafting from an early age.” Y/n looked over at Wanda and smiled. It was a nice feeling to just talk to each other without the constant bickering about school. “But in highschool, they offered a sailing team and I decided to join. Ever since then, it’s been a big hobby of mine.”

Pointing over at the boats, Y/n continued, “You see that sail boat right there? That one is mine.” Looking over at the dock, Wanda could easily see the all white sailboat.

“Jeez, she’s really pretty. And almost as huge as your ego.” Y/n scoffed at Wanda’s quick jab, but the smile on her face persisted. “Who taught you all of this though? Did you have a coach growing up?” There was a small twitch in Y/n’s smile that Wanda caught. Almost wanting to apologize, she waited for Y/n to speak.

“My father taught me everything about the ocean. That’s actually part of what his business is in. So from fishing, boating, sailing, kayaking, he taught me.” There was a slight pause as Y/n looked out at the ocean, almost like she was missing the simpler times. But within a second, the smile was back on her face as she looked back at Wanda.

“How come you didn’t major in something like this? It seems like it’s your calling compared to your double major of computer engineering and accounting.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders almost in a ‘it’s pretty obvious’ manner.

“I do like my majors, but don’t ever mention to my father that I’m in accounting. He doesn’t really need to know that.” Wanda zipped her lips and threw the key away causing Y/n’s smile to further widen. “But I guess I wanted to keep this part of my life as a hobby…I see what it does to people when you suddenly turn a passion into a job…and it’s not the best.”

Sitting up from her seat, Y/n sat at the edge facing Wanda. “I want this part of me to be part of the reason that I need a well paying job. So that way I can support all the hobbies that come with loving the ocean. Because there’s one thing I truly love more than anything in the world and it’s being out there.”

Reaching her hand out, Y/n got up with an excited look on her face. “Let me show you something.”

Wanda ignored the feeling in her chest as she grabbed Y/n’s hand. She was led down further down the backyard and down the stairs and on to the dock, hand’s never breaking apart.

Leading the way to her sailboat, Y/n helped Wanda climb up the ladder and onto the deck. “Meet my precious boat Halfway.”

Wanda smiled in confusion of the name. “Halfway? Why that name?” The name was odd, but just like another secret, Wanda stashed it in her mind for safe keeping.

“Stay a while and you’ll know. But you said you were unable to sleep, right?” Wanda nodded in agreement causing Y/n to go into the cabin.

Following her inside, Wanda could barely see what was in the room with how dark it was. She did see Y/n turn on the heater as well as climb on the queen sized bed that was at the end of the room. Popping open the hatch, the light from the moon suddenly beamed into the cabin.

“Welcome to the best sleep you’ll ever have.” Wanda had a ridiculous look on her face as she waited for Y/n to say this was a joke. But as her rival continued to smile, she knew it was serious.

“Is this even safe?” Y/n groaned at Wanda’s apprehensiveness and pulled her closer to the bed.

“We are currently docked so there’s no way for us to be pulled to sea. Plus, even if we were, I know how to get us back home.” Seeing Wanda’s relucantat face caused Y/n to get closer, to better plead her case. “But Maximoff you have to try it. Otherwise, you’ll always think that sleeping on land is the best thing when in fact, it’s not.”

Wanda thought of multiple assumptions or facts as to why Y/n’s statement was in fact wrong. Getting the ‘best’ sleep was opinionated. Plus, the meer movement of the ocean would probably cause someone to get seasick during their sleep. Not only that, would bugs get in?

The thoughts in her head spiral, but the more the moon shone into those brown eyes, she knew she couldn’t resist.

So with a sigh, Wanda asked, “Can this fit even fit the both of us?”

“It can definitely fit the both of us. Plus, I’ll put a pillow in between incase I accidentally get too close at night.”

Wanda started to blush again at the thought of cuddling Y/n. “If I wake up cranky, I’m blaming you Y/l/n.”

“And if I’m right, you’ll have to go kayaking with me.” Unable to back down from a deal, Wanda smirked, the same way she did back at Evergreen.

“Deal.”

Chapter 5

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #My Rival #Rivals to Lovers #college au wanda maximoff #College AU #college!wanda maximoff #marvel #mionemymind #academic rivals

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ja3yun · 2 months

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I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | CH.3: Ride or Dye

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), inexperienced heeseung but he is surprisingly good, mentions of struggle with family/trauma, haunted house, there isn't many warnings on this one, it's quite cute...until the end, if i missed any lmk! wc: 16k ch.3 synopsis: the police are hot on your tail and with the news plastering your face on the news, you and heeseung set off up north. however, when you see an old amusement park and change your plans. maybe not your best idea... a/n: hi! if you are reading this just know i love you more than anyone else. i am releasing a day early bc i have some things i want to release later on on the week! this is definitely one of my favourite chapters i have ever written and it's full of fluff and character building so i hope you enjoy it and don't find it boring! thank you for the love on this series and i'll see you back here for the finale <3 reblogs, likes, comments, feedback are all welcome!

chapter 2 | masterlist | finale

“Just do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait, wait, wait…will it hurt?”

“It’s hair, Heeseung, of course it won’t.”

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous question. Heeseung has clearly had his hair trimmed at various stages of his life, so why on earth does he think this time will be different? Perhaps it’s the fact that you are the one holding the scissors.

Ever since you both discovered that the police are hot on your trail, broadcasting unflattering pictures of you across UK news channels, it has been difficult to keep a low profile. You have tried to stay on the outskirts of the country, weaving through little towns where you hope the residents are too busy tending to their farms or stores to stay inside and watch the news.

So far, your strategy has worked, but too many close calls has instilled fear in both of you. Once, Heeseung wanted to order milkshakes from a small cafe in the Cotswolds and completely missed the massive red flag that your wanted pictures were plastered on the pages of the paper the waitress was reading. Another time, you insisted on staying inside a barn in the middle of Wiltshire, only to be chased out by a rightfully angry farmer brandishing a pitchfork, threatening to call the police.

Hence, here you are in Ayrshire, in a shady hotel that only takes cash, dying and cutting each other's hair. You settled for a jet black and bangs combo, which perfectly masked enough of your face that even you have trouble recognising yourself. Heeseung, on the other hand, insisted on pure white hair, claiming that hiding in plain sight is better than being inconspicuous with a natural shade of chestnut or blonde.

The only problem was that he fought with you for a good three hours, denying the fact that he needed a haircut and insisting that the hair colour transformation was enough. But when he looked into the mirror with his wet mop, he conceded the argument, realising that he looked more like the picture in the paper than ever before.

So here you are with a piece of his long hair sitting stiffly between your fingers as you prepare to make the first cut. Heeseung is staring at himself in the dirty mirror of the room that looks as though it has never seen a spray of glass cleaner in its life and mourns his luscious locks.

As you slice the scissors through his hair, he feels as though it’s his heart that is being snipped apart. The sound of the kitchen scissors rings alarms in his ears and he pouts, shutting his eyes as though you’re torturing him.

“Stop being a baby or I’ll shave it all off,” you warn, your tone resembling that of a mother who has told her child off for the last time and is threatening to send them to bed without dinner.

Heeseung slowly opens his eyes, a glaze of worry and remorse swimming over them. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been growing my hair out for a while and I really don’t want another bowl cut.” You can see the memories of the horrendous haircuts flash in his eyes, the taunts from his schoolmates as he walked into school multiple times with a cut that was genuinely as awful as it sounded. His mum used to put a Pyrex bowl on his head and cut around it, refusing to pay the barbers when she was ‘perfectly capable of doing it herself.’

You try to picture what he would look like with a lopsided bowl cut and snort, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, momentarily disregarding safety as the scissors sit loosely in your grip. The snicker doesn’t go down well with your client, and you quickly resort to instilling some ease into him, stroking the back of his head gently.

“Trust me, I’ve been cutting my own hair since I was a teen. I know what I’m doing,” you assure him, despite only one of those statements being true, and it was not the latter.

His eyes shift in the mirror to meet yours, a soft look in them. “Your mum never cut it for you?” he asks carefully, not knowing the full extent of your family or your history with them.

“My mum… she isn’t here anymore, she hasn’t been for a long time,” you admit honestly, deciding to use this opportunity of his distraction to cut more of his hair. The length falls just to the top of his neck, and considering Heeseung has a lot of hair, this is already a massive change.

Heeseung’s expression softens further, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice sincere.

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “Don’t be, I didn’t really know her since she passed away when I was little.” There are few memories you share with your mum, her presence almost lost in the fog of other moments from your childhood. You think maybe most of them are subconsciously discarded from your mind in the hopes that you miss her less.

However, if you remember one thing about her, it’s the afterschool trips to Woolworths when she would swing you up high over her shoulders and sing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ by Stevie Wonder, making you feel as though you were a piercing arrow, soaring freely through the crisp summer sky. The memory brings a soft warmth to your chest, a fleeting connection to a time when life was simpler and filled with innocent joy. Maybe that’s why you keep the memory locked in your mind.

Heeseung sits for a minute, imagining what the world would be like without his own mum. She has been the backbone of everything he has ever done, and not having her there just seems unfathomable. He wouldn’t be as kind or generous, that’s for sure - his mum is a beacon of light to those she knows. During the time he has been on the run, he has often wondered what his parents have thought about the articles and radio snippets. But if he knows them well enough, which he does, he knows they’re fighting his corner somehow. This thought gives him a little bit of comfort throughout all of this turmoil.

But do you have anyone at ringside?

“What about your dad?” he pipes up, staring at the scissors in your hand rather than meeting your eyes, as if to make you feel more comfortable with his questions. He wants to subtly express that his queries are out of genuine curiosity and not an interrogation.

You pause for a moment, collecting your thoughts and decide how much you’re ready to tell Heeseung. Then it hits you - you feel so safe with Heeseung that you don’t wish to keep anything from him. The bond you both share is solid enough that divulging your family history and pain seems like the easiest thing in the world.

“My dad…” you begin, your voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia. “He did his best after Mum died. But he wasn’t really equipped to handle raising two children on his own. He worked a lot, and when he was home, he was...distant. I think losing Mum broke something in him that he never managed to fix.”

You snip a bit more of Heeseung’s hair, your hands working almost automatically as your mind drifts through the past. “He tried his best but me and my big brother didn’t make it easy for him. My brother is a good person but he just got his soul a little lost, gave his heart to the wrong people and it caused so much fighting in the house that he eventually moved out when he was 16. He didn’t even bother to see me or write me a letter, he just, vanished.”

You have always wondered what happened to your brother, if he found his feet in the big bad world or if it swallowed him whole. There was one time you thought you saw him in Newcastle just by the train station when you were 13 on a school trip but the person was drunk and falling all over the place and you looked away before you could confirm; living in ignorance is easier than imagining your own family struggling.

“Then my dad just…stopped caring. He lost his job and stopped paying the bills,” you wince as you recall how hopeless your father had become. “I tried to help him but there was only so much a little girl can do before she also gives up hope.”

Heeseung knew you were strong, there wasn’t even a millimetre of his mind that thought otherwise, yet, hearing your past somehow brings him a whole new level of respect for you. Essentially, you were on your own your whole teenage years, the most formative and important time of your life and instead of being supported, you were supporting, looking after a man who couldn’t handle the cards that life dealt him.

“Your dad must be worried about you now, though,” Heeseung suggests, trying to find a silver lining amidst the dark clouds hanging over your conversation. But you shake your head, a sad and almost angry expression painting your face as you move to cut the layers into his shaggy hair.

“He cut ties with me once he found out what I was doing,” you scoff, though beneath the scorn, there is a breath of hurt. “He told every family member and friend we had and made sure they shut their doors in my face. He said I was a disgrace and that Mum would be ashamed of me, so I doubt he really gives a fuck.”

The bitterness in your words sends a shiver along Heeseung’s arms. It’s unfathomable to him how a father could turn his back on his daughter when she needed him more than ever. He knows no one turns to selling their body without hitting desperate times. His heart aches for you, and he finds himself wishing he could have been there to shield you from that pain.

It does beg the question that Heeseung has been wishing to ask you for so long. With you being so open and honest with him, this might be the best time to ask—you don’t know if you’ll ever get the chance again to settle his query.

“Why did you start…doing all of this?” he asks gently, his voice filled with genuine curiosity and concern, afraid his question might be imposing.

You pause, taking a deep breath, the scissors momentarily forgotten in your hand. “Money,” you begin to explain, the obvious answer sitting both of you in the face. “Me and Dad needed to make rent, so when I was just turning eighteen, I took any job I could. And let me tell you, there isn’t much out there for a girl with only a high school education.”

Struggling to find a job was something Heeseung had also encountered. However, he was lucky his dad ran a mechanic shop and would give him shifts when he desperately needed the cash between student loan payouts.

“I found this shitty pub near Camden that paid pennies, but it was a job, right? It did us good for the time, and then one day, I was complaining about money - I can’t remember why - and this punter comes up to me and says he knows a guy looking for a girl like me.”

The memory washes over you like a tidal wave, and you can almost smell the stale beer and hear the raucous laughter from the pub. The man was dressed in a suit and tie, clearly just off a busy 9-to-5 shift when he overheard your conversation with one of the other girls behind the bar. He snapped his fingers and called you over, telling you there was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse and promising to triple what you made bartending. What desperate person is going to turn that away?

“It was amazing money, enough to pay rent and the other bills - a little brothel with girls in need of cash like me. The girls were great; we all got along well, probably because we hated the guy who ran the place. I tell you, nothing brings people together more than a common enemy.”

“What did he do?” Heeseung asks gently, his voice a soothing balm to the raw wound you’re exposing.

“He stole our tips and took a cut for ‘room hire,’ which, by the way, was like half of the money,” you bitterly laugh, the sound hollow and filled with frustration. Thinking of all the money that prick owes you and your girls stirs a cauldron of anger inside you.

Heeseung twists his head to look at you, gobsmacked at the idea you were putting your body through god knows what, all to reap no real reward at the end of it. “That’s not fair. He can’t do that.”

“Well, he did. That’s why I left,” you state matter-of-factly, your voice a mixture of defiance and resignation.

The conversation leaves a heavy silence in the room. The snipping of the scissors is the only sound, but the air between you is charged with shared pain and understanding. Heeseung reaches out, his hand trembling slightly and places it over yours, stopping your movements for a moment.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, Y/N,” Heeseung says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of how deeply you’ve been hurt. He hopes the twinkle of respect and adoration he holds for you shines through. “You deserve to have a good life.”

Taking a deep breath, you feel the weight of your past lift slightly with his words. The encouragement and belief Heeseung has in you, even in these dire circumstances, is all you have ever wanted from someone. If one person could back you up and be there for you, you know you can make it through anything. That’s probably why you’re feeling hopeful throughout this chase.

“You better give me the best life possible then, Lee Heeseung, because I think you’re going to be tagging along for a long time,” you jab, injecting some lightheartedness into the deep conversation. It’s a nice way to punctuate your past, finally letting it all out in the open and getting it off your shoulders.

Heeseung blushes, the scarlet tone washing over his nose and cheeks with shyness. Even the prospect of tomorrow with you makes his heart race, never mind forever.

Almost finished cutting his hair with only the front left to do, you circle around and begin to trim the long bangs. Since he is sitting down on the burst maroon leather seat, you can’t properly see if you’re cutting it evenly or not. If you were in any way a professional, this would be a breeze, but for some reason, you keep cutting one side shorter than the other.

Taking initiative, you move your legs and straddle Heeseung, parking yourself on his thighs to bring you face-to-face with him. It’s the easiest solution to your problem; he’s too tall to stand up because you’ll be reaching, and he’s down too low in the chair. Secretly, it's also because baring your past and being vulnerable has made you a little clingy.

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat as you settle onto his lap. The proximity makes his heart pound, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. You focus on your task, carefully trimming the bangs, but you’re acutely aware of how close you are to him. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, charged with unspoken emotions and the lingering tension between you.

None of you have spoken about the strip club or what unfolded there and considering it’s been practically a week! you think someone would have said something. Instead of communicating about it, you both have lingering stares and steal subtle touches, rather than addressing the feelings you both felt.

Sure, it was lust driven but that’s a feeling that has been sitting at the surface of your chests, bubbling into something maybe just a little bit more.

Clenching his fists and releasing them, Heeseung is physically restraining himself from placing his hands on your hips, his mind screaming that he doesn’t deserve to lay his hands so casually on art as priceless and ethereal as you. Even when you’re in bed and snuggle up to him as you sleep peacefully, he takes a minute to convince himself that it’s okay to hug you into his chest, never feeling like it’s his right to.

It’s how he’s always felt about women, yet with you, it runs deeper than he’s ever experienced. The level of adoration and respect he has for you makes him want to treat you in a way no man has ever done before. You must be so exhausted with men constantly on you that he wants to show you he isn’t going to be like those men, not now, not ever.

Sensing his tensing frame underneath you, you withdraw the scissors from his hair and look at him with concern, afraid you’ve made him uncomfortable. However, as you see his flushed face and trembling eyes, you recognise the same shy boy you met two weeks ago.

“I thought we moved past being nervous with me?” you ask, feigning disapproval to lighten the mood.

Sighing loudly, Heeseung wipes his damp palms on his chest, trying to find a place for them that isn’t your body. “You forget that I’m still a virgin and you’re the prettiest girl on the planet; any man would be nervous in this situation.” His sincerity causes your heart to stop for a moment, the blood that would normally circulate now creeping up to your cheeks, leaving you both blushing messes.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over his compliments or how effortlessly they roll off his tongue. Deep inside, there is a space in your heart reserved for Heeseung, and you don’t know how he got there, but you’re not going to evict him any time soon.

Having him in your heart means you feel more towards him, and that includes emotions of guilt. You’ve never offered to sleep with him, and yes, you know he never expects you to, but part of you wants to. It’s not out of obligation but genuine desire.

However, there is a gnawing anxiety that if you do sleep with him, it will cause the universe to end this wild ride you’re on. You fear you’ll lose him after he pops his cherry, that the only reason he was fated to meet you was for that specific reason. What if, in some cruel joke, the stars drag him away from you? You can’t do any of this without him. He has become your pillar, and as soon as he is taken away, you’ll crumble.

With all these thoughts swirling in your mind, you can only give him a simple hum in acknowledgement, scared that if you open your mouth, you’ll say something silly and scare him. So you continue with your ministrations, cutting his fringe in such a way that it masks his face without completely covering those enchanting, dark eyes of his, the ones that pull you in without needing a second glance.

The room is charged with a subtle tension, but above all else, it’s clouded with serenity. You and Heeseung can sit in the silence of one another and enjoy it. Sharing tiny moments like this almost feels domestic. A large part of you wonders if this is what it feels like to be in a real relationship.

For years, you have longed to be held and loved for more than just your body. In no way do you regret the path you��ve chosen, not even after all of this, but you do wish you could have had the chance to experience just one loving relationship. To hold hands with someone just because you want to be close to them, hugging them in the home you share because your hearts are like two magnets that tremble for one another, and kissing them so tenderly on random Wednesday afternoons as you sit in Hyde Park, reminiscing about how you first met and how nothing in the world matters but the fire between you.

That is all you have ever wanted.

With a longing sigh, you snip the last piece of long hair from Heeseung’s head, inspecting your work for any room for improvement before you’re satisfied, then, you reach for the shitty portable mini hairdryer provided by the motel.

“Alright, let’s dry this off,” you say softly, turning on the hairdryer. The warm air hums gently as you work, ruffling Heeseung’s hair and smoothing it into place. He watches you through the mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

Heeseung likes to be looked after as much as he likes to make sure those he cherishes are also safeguarded. He knows that is the relationship you both have, one with give and take, although you more so give because that’s all you have ever known. Yet, as he looks at you now, he wants to change that. He wants to give back to you in ways no one ever has.

The room is heavy with unspoken promises and newfound understanding. You and Heeseung are intertwined in ways neither of you can fully comprehend, yet it feels right, like two lost souls finally finding a home in each other.

As you blow dry the last section, you run your fingers through it, hoping to style it a little but it’s proving difficult with the lack of products and how strangely soft Heeseung’s hair is; you wouldn’t think it went through two rounds of peroxide with lemon juice and a Crystal White hair dye. The pieces fall beautifully to the side of his face, the curtain bang vision you had in your head now coming to life before your eyes.

Finishing up, you switch off the hairdryer and place it back where it belongs before giving Heeseung's locks one final fix. You've never found men with white hair attractive, considering most of your old clients had the colour all over their bodies, but Heeseung looks like an angel straight out of the gates. The stark white hair contrasts beautifully with his darker brows and toned skin, complimenting him in a way that feels almost ethereal.

"All done," you announce, a proud smile spreading across your face as you admire your handiwork. You move off him, and both of you feel a sudden, stinging cold with the separation, your body almost instantly longing to be close to him once again.

He stands up and walks to the mirror to get a closer look. He crouches down, analysing his new reflection. He looks incredibly different, the long, flat, shabby hair he was once so proud of now a distant memory. The pure white threads of almost silk on his head transform his appearance completely. It's amazing what you managed to do with so few resources.

"Y/N, this is...really good," he says, his smile widening as he checks himself out, genuinely impressed. For the first time in a long while, he admires his own reflection. Despite the tired circles under his eyes, they remain wide and vibrant, possibly because he has had the opportunity to spend all morning with you, doing normal, young adult things.

No running, no fear, just the two of you together.

Cocking an eyebrow, you cross your arms in mock offence. "Are you surprised?" you ask, trying to mimic a serious tone despite the small smile on your face, a chuckle bubbling at the surface as you watch his eyes light up and his fingers carefully fix his sideburns.

After about a minute of self-ogling, Heeseung twists around to face you, grimacing as he sucks in his breath and tenses his neck in a fake display of apology. "Is it rude to say yes?"

Tutting, you reach over and punch his arm with more force than you intended, expressing your mock annoyance at his insinuation, even though you know he doesn't truly mean it.

"Ow!" he yelps, instinctively going to hold the now aching muscle of his arm. Pouting, he rubs it roughly to dispel the pain, massaging the nerves that are jittering inside. "You've got some punch on you."

"Yeah, well, I'll use it again if you ever doubt me," you threaten, your voice wavering with a slight giggle. He really is so fragile; you wonder how he's managed to survive living 22 years in this world.

Turning your attention to the mess behind you, you take the scissors and put them back in their case, cleaning up the hair around you. You brush his dead ends lazily with your foot; not the most conventional way to tidy up, but you aren't exactly equipped with a portable brush and shovel.

Heeseung packs the clothes into the bags you got for 50p out of a charity shop, stealing glances at you as he works. Over the weeks you’ve spent together, he’s come to admire how you never complain, no matter the task. Even now, as you brush up his hair, you don’t grumble when it sticks to your socks. Instead, you wipe it away with ease.

Of course, the task isn’t arduous, but it’s a small example of your resilience. When he asked you to dye his hair and cut it, or even when you were at the strip club, you never once expressed annoyance. You simply got on with what needed to be done.

He finds it admirable, this quiet toughness you possess. It’s a strength he wishes he had inside him. Throughout this journey, he’s often complained about how hungry he is, or how hard it is to sleep on cold floors. And every time, you’ve reassured him, telling him it’ll be okay, giving him something to look towards, even though you were feeling the same way.

Heeseung can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You’ve done so much for him and he’s been too wrapped up in his own discomfort to fully appreciate it. He wants to tell you how much he admires you, and how much your strength means to him, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he swallows hard and focuses on the task at hand, determined to help in any way he can.

When you finally finish cleaning up, you look up and catch his eye. Heeseung gives you a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift. In that brief exchange, so much is conveyed without words. He wants to be better, to be stronger for you, just as you’ve been for him.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not just for the haircut, but for everything - for being his rock, his comfort, his guide through the darkness.

You smile back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Anytime,” you reply, and you mean it. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him, nothing you wouldn’t face together. “Now, do you have your stuff? We need to leave for the bus soon,” you swiftly change the subject.

Heeseung scrunches his features before he quickly releases them, understanding what you mean. Rummaging through the bag in front of him, he quickly retrieves a baseball cap which he puts on carefully to avoid ruining your work, and places a pair of silver-rimmed, oval glasses on his face. “All ready!” He turns to you, the palm of his hand under his chin as he showcases the excellent disguise that he has conjured up.

Taking in his new appearance, you realise two things: one, you finally understand why people find it difficult to identify Superman as Clark Kent, glasses doing more for disguises than any mask could; he was right about hiding in plain sight, but you’ll never admit it. And two, he looks fucking beautiful.

The hat that makes his ears poke out just a little bit more than usual, the glasses that somehow cover yet accentuate his eyes, paired with the oversized AC/DC t-shirt, baggy Denim Co. jeans, and the trainers he has been wearing this entire time, he looks like something straight out of the ‘your next crush’ section in POP! Magazine.

Biting your lip subconsciously, your eyes trail his body, your pupils shaking in need. Maybe you have enough time to push him onto the bed and jump-

“You good?” Heeseung asks, a half frown working on his face.

Shaking your head from the lewd thoughts, you smile, taking your bag from the place on the bed beside him. “Let’s go.”

_____

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Heeseung’s eyes dart around the crowded bus with palpable trepidation, fearing someone might recognise you both. It's his first time using his alias, "Evan," and despite your reassurances that his new appearance is enough to deter recognition, he's planned an elaborate backstory complete with trivia about his fabricated life, including bonus rounds. He doesn’t know when someone might ask him in which primary school his fake grandmother attended, but he has the answer locked and loaded.

His hand is gripping yours tightly, the sweat from his nerves now creating a tiny swimming pool in your connected palms. He doesn’t mean to get clammy but the idea of coming so far and having it foiled on a National Express bus on the outskirts of Ayr is putting him on edge.

You don’t seem to notice his sweaty hands or the elderly woman watching you from across the aisle. Instead, your attention is captivated by the breathtaking Scottish countryside passing by outside the window. The rolling hills of Ayr are adorned with lush greenery, dotted with clusters of ancient trees that sway gently in the breeze.

The bus winds through narrow roads flanked by dry stone walls and vibrant patches of wildflowers. Highland cows, with their shaggy coats and long, curved horns, graze lazily in the pastures. Oh, to be a cow in another life, munching grass all day long without a care in the world. The notion amuses you, and you imagine that maybe, if you're reincarnated, you can come back as one of these peaceful creatures.

The scenery outside is so tranquil that you easily lose yourself in the views. The mountains, the serene lochs, and the quaint cottages all work together to quiet your mind, offering a brief respite from the constant anxiety that has followed you for weeks. For a moment, everything feels right.

However, as soon as something unusual catches your eye, your brain shifts back into gear, thoughts twirling with curiosity. You sit up straight, eyes narrowing to focus. Amidst the idyllic landscape, something stands out - a stark contrast to the beauty surrounding it.

An old, rusty, clearly abandoned theme park appears on the horizon. The sign, once vibrant with its yellow and red paint, now faded and peeling, spells out the name ‘Joyland.’ But there is nothing joyous about the place. The park has clearly been deserted for at least 15 years, left to the mercy of time and nature.

Theme parks are something younger you could only dream of, your dad insisting that it was too far away and too expensive. You understand him a little better now that you’re older, however, that doesn’t quench the little girl inside you and her thirst for the excitement of a Maze of Mirrors or Waltzers.

With a twinkle in your eye and a quickening of your heartbeat, you push Heeseung to stand up in the aisle. He protests slightly, letting out a surprised 'whoa' and a grunt, but you ignore him, clasping his hand tightly in yours. Fighting against the slippery sweat that threatens to break your grip, you drag him towards the front of the bus.

Heeseung's heart plummets, his anxiety boiling over as people start to notice your sudden movement. He tries to reason with you, urging you to return to your seats and abandon whatever impulsive idea has sparked this rush.

But his pleas fall on deaf ears. By the time his voice filters through to you, you're already tapping the bus driver's shoulder with feigned panic. “Sir, can you pull over, please?” you ask, your voice sweet yet tinged with urgency.

“No can do, Hen. The bus doesn’t stop until we get to Troon,” he explains calmly, giving you a glance through the rearview mirror.

“Please, my boyfriend is going to be sick, and I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s journey,” you plead. The excuse is thin, but if there’s one thing a bus driver hates more than being late, it’s dealing with a sick passenger.

The driver’s eyes widen and he flusters slightly. “Well, there are bags under the seat. Take one of them.”

“It’s not going to be enough. He’s had a drink or two, and you know what that’s like,” you say, your lips forming into a pout as you try anything to get the bus to stop. The longer you stand begging, the further the theme park recedes into the distance.

You elbow Heeseung roughly. The unexpected blow makes him hunch over, breath catching in his throat and eyes bulging slightly. It's the perfect reaction to convince the driver, who nods quickly, his concern outweighing his schedule. “Yes, alright, but only for a minute,” he concedes, flicking the indicator to pull to the left-hand side.

Mentally, you praise Heeseung for his overdramatic reactions to pain. His theatrical flair, usually a source of amusement when he overreacts to a bump or a stepped-on foot, has come in handy. No one can ever say that being dramatic gets you nowhere.

As the bus pulled to a stop, a surge of triumph coursed through you. The driver swung open the creaky door, and you stepped off, immediately feeling the brisk Scottish air kiss your face. Heeseung stumbled behind you, trying to navigate the steep steps of the bus as you tugged him along.

“Are you mad?” Heeseung whispered, his grip tightening on your hand, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. He glanced around, searching for any sign of reason in your decision to abandon the bus for an impromptu adventure through the countryside.

“Maybe,” you replied with a grin, the thrill of spontaneity evident in your voice. Glancing over Heeseung’s shoulder to the bus driver, you flashed a polite smile. “You go ahead, we’ll walk. He could use the fresh air,” you shouted, waving off any objections.

Before the driver could protest, you were already sprinting back in the direction the bus had come from, dragging the bewildered Heeseung behind you. He stumbled at first but quickly matched your pace, his curiosity piqued despite his confusion. The bus pulled away, leaving you both standing at the roadside, free from the constraints of scheduled travel.

“Y/N, where are we going?” Heeseung gasped, breathless from the unexpected burst of activity.

“Just come on, we’re almost there!” you called back over your shoulder, excitement shining in your eyes and a wide grin spreading across your face.

Heeseung caught a glimpse of your infectious enthusiasm and decided to trust in your lead, letting go of his worries and focusing instead on keeping up with you.

As you approached the entrance to Joyland, you slowed your pace, causing Heeseung to nearly collide with your back. He stops himself, grasping your arm to steady both of you. The gates before you are weathered and rusted, the once vibrant red paint now faded and peeling. Vines snaked through the gaps in the iron bars, reclaiming the space that had been abandoned to time.

Heeseung looks up and tilts his head, “Y/N what are we doing here?”

Wistfully, you let go of his hand and walk towards the gates, assessing just how easy it would be to get into the park. Luckily, it is held together with a flimsy lock that could easily be broken with a rock and some force.

Looking around and ignoring Heeseung’s answer for now, you search for something hard enough to break the padlock with, the ground around you is scattered with lots of handy things; Buckfast bottles, old shoes which you don’t even dare ask how they ended up here, scared of the answer it might bring, and then the golden ticket; a brick that had fallen from the wall that surrounded the park.

Grabbing it, you almost skip back to the entrance, happy that in just one swing, you’ll be accomplishing a dream of yours, even if you can’t complete it in its entirety. You lift your arm up, grasping tight on the ash-red brick before hammering it down. The first time doesn’t work, only rattling the metal against the steel, so persistent as ever, you try again and again until finally, the contraption falls to the ground with a tiny thud.

Heeseung watches you from afar, shoulders tense from the sound of the breaking lock and your grunts. You must really want in there and he will be damned if he tries to stop you. He wants to pose the question again, wondering what could be so exciting about a shitty theme park that hasn’t seen any joy despite its name in a decade, but you answer it for him.

“I’ve never been to one of these before,” you speak in a hushed tone, scared to disrupt the silence that carries through the wind.

“It’s shut down, Y/N,” Heeseung states the obvious, now standing behind you.

Craning your neck, you look up at him and smile. “Just means there are no queues.”

Pushing open the creaking gate and finally stepping inside, the sound echoes through the stillness of the park. The path ahead is overgrown with wildflowers and weeds, the cracked pavement obscured by nature's reclamation. An old carousel stands in the distance, its paint long gone and its horses frozen in time, a melancholy reminder of days gone by.

The entrance to Joyland is eerily inviting, with pretty moss creeping up the dilapidated ticket booth and the once-bright sign now dulled by years of neglect. The Ferris wheel, its gondolas now chipped and weathered, stands motionless against the backdrop of a clear sky. The roller coaster tracks, twisted and overgrown with weeds, snake their way through the park, hinting at the thrills they once offered.

“Look at this place,” you whisper, awe and curiosity mixing in your voice. “It’s like stepping into a forgotten world.”

Heeseung nods, his eyes scanning the beautifully tragic surroundings. “Yeah, it’s kinda sad to see it like this. It would have been nice for you to see it in its glory,” he says softly.

Having visited countless theme parks in his lifetime, Heeseung can vividly imagine what Joyland used to be like: vibrant with colour, the laughter of children echoing as they dashed away from their parents to ride attractions they were barely tall enough for, and the mingling scents of carnival foods creating a unique aroma of nostalgia.

You both wander through the deserted park, taking in the sights, walking side by side in a peaceful silence. However, Heeseung can’t shake off the feeling of being watched, perhaps because the openness of the area leaves nowhere to hide. There are rides and booths, but someone could easily spot you both if they looked hard enough.

“It’s too exposed here, Y/N. Let’s just go,” he warns, his eyes darting to a moving shadow he’s convinced is real and not just a figment of his imagination. The happiness of imagined memories quickly washes away as he sees what the park really is: a derelict site filled with discarded needles and abandoned rides.

You notice his unease, the way his eyes shift nervously, and know he’s seconds away from dragging you back to the bus. But if this is your only chance to experience a theme park, you’re willing to use every bit of charm you have.

Fluttering your eyelashes and jutting out your lip, you gaze up at him with a pleading expression. “Hee, please,” you begin, taking his hand and swinging it gently. “Just for five minutes?” You cringe inwardly at your own performance but are willing to act the part for the chance to stay - it’ll be worth the bruise in your pride.

Heeseung’s fear is chipped away at your pleas. It’s so ridiculous how easy men are to trick in this day and age, particularly a virgin who is in hook, line, and sinker for you.

“Alright, five minutes,” he finally concedes, sighing deeply. You beam up at him, gratitude and excitement flooding your heart.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, you place a kiss on his cheek, eliciting a pink blush to form on his him. Unlike the other times he’s gone flushed in the face, this isn’t of embarrassment but rather contentment and glee.

Maybe this is Joyland after all.

“There’s a haunted house over there, let's go!” you exclaim, pointing to the weathered, foreboding structure looming in the distance.

Maybe he was too quick with his thoughts.

Heeseung swallows hard, trying to mask his apprehension with a weak smile. "Sure," he replies, his voice wavering slightly. He squeezes your hand for reassurance, more for his sake than yours, as you both make your way towards the haunted house.

The building looks like it’s been pulled straight out of a horror film. The once grand entrance is now covered in ivy and the wooden doors hang loosely on their hinges. The paint is chipped and faded, the windows are cracked and clouded with grime, and the sign above the door, which once read ‘House of Horrors’ is barely legible. The wind whistles through the gaps, adding an eerie melody to the desolate ambience.

You step inside first, the floorboards creaking under your weight. Heeseung hesitates at the threshold, his eyes darting around nervously. The light from outside filters through the broken windows, casting long shadows that seem to dance and shift. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before following you inside.

The air inside the haunted house is stale and thick with dust. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and the smell of dampness and decay lingers, infiltrating your nose and causing you to wince. The first room you enter is a foyer of sorts, with tattered red curtains hanging from the walls and a decrepit chandelier swaying gently above. An old grandfather clock stands in the corner, its hands frozen at midnight.

Heeseung keeps a tight grip on your hand, his eyes scanning every corner for signs of movement. "This place is...something," he mutters, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

You squeeze his hand back, giving him a reassuring smile. "Come on, it's just a bit of fun," you say, leading him further into the house.

The next room is even darker, with the only guidance of your steps being from the room before. You can barely make out the shapes of old furniture covered in white sheets, some stained with what you hope is fake blood. Suddenly, a gust of wind slams a door shut behind you, causing Heeseung to jump, his heart travelling from its rightful place in his chest to his throat.

He lets out a nervous laugh, quickly trying to cover it up. "That was just the wind," he says, more to himself than to you.

You nod, suppressing a giggle. "Of course it was," you agree, though you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. The atmosphere of the haunted house is getting to you too, despite your brave front. Despite your eagerness to enter the haunted attraction, you hate to admit that you aren’t feeling the best right now, your heart a ticking bomb.

If you were to go into this house when it was up and running, scare actors and life still instilled within the dark corners then maybe you would feel a little better, but the more you venture into the darkness, the less sturdy your legs are.

In one room, you come across a dusty old mirror, the vision of you and Heeseung echoing back to you, plastering a reassured smile on your face. Both of you look nothing like yourselves yet next to one another, you feel like you’ve found who you’re supposed to be.

As you approach it, a ghostly figure suddenly appears in the reflection, reaching out towards you. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around Heeseung’s waist and quickly facing away from it, burying your face into his chest.

He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, wrapping his free arm around you protectively. Although he also got a fright, he feels himself needing to protect you as a way to pay you back for every time you’ve looked after him. Granted, he wishes it could be something a bit more substantial than a trick mirror but it will do for now.

"It's okay, it's just a trick," Heeseung murmurs, trying to comfort you even as his own heart races, squeezing you tighter. He can feel your body trembling against his, and it takes everything in him to project calmness, to be the anchor you need right now.

“I… don’t like this anymore, Heeseung,” you admit, looking up at him. The dim light casts shadows across his face, but you can still make out the worry etched into his features. You seek comfort in his familiarity, trying to steady your racing heart. Something in your gut tells you to get out of this place, and after ignoring your instincts that fateful day two weeks ago, you refuse to disregard them ever again.

Heeseung nods, rubbing your back soothingly. "We'll find a way out," he promises, his eyes scanning the area for any beacon of light to guide you both. But all he stumbles upon is another door. "I think we’ll need to keep going for now."

It's the worst thing he could say, but you understand he's right. The only way out of here is forward, the door behind you stuck firmly shut.

To ease the tension, Heeseung chuckles slightly. “You know, I didn’t think you were scared of anything,” he chats, trying to keep you distracted as he opens the door to a new, unexplored room.

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” you confess. Your guard is up against the house, but down for Heeseung. After opening up about your past, the wall around your heart doesn't feel the need to rebuild itself. The boy currently holding you under his arm has taken your defences down piece by piece, and you don't hate him for it one bit.

With a look of surprise, his eyes settle on your delicate face as he processes your response. “Really? Like what?” He’s not trying to be intrusive; he just genuinely didn’t think you had any.

“I can’t tell you that,” you laugh, the tension in your body melting slightly, even as you face an old life-sized doll trapped in a box. Your fears are personal, and you believe that speaking them into existence might make them come true. There are two fears trapped inside you that you wish never to see the light of day.

Unravelling yourself from Heeseung’s strong embrace, you timidly approach the looming figure in the box. Its lifelike form is so realistic that you might have mistaken it for a real person. The glass is dusty, and the top right corner has been shattered by something small but mighty. You can’t believe your eyes.

“Heeseung, come here,” you beckon him, your hand gesturing for him to step forward and see what you’re seeing. “Doesn’t this doll look like you?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say that Heeseung had a twin. The doll has the same eyes, nose, and pretty pink lips.

Examining the box, Heeseung reads out loud, “Have your wishes granted by the doll that knows your deepest desires.” He whispers softly, scared that it might be some spell to wake the creepy doll. It does look scarily like him, except this doll has cherry-red hair and dead eyes.

He takes off his glasses and stands next to it. “It really is me, huh?”

Clasping a hand over your mouth, you widen your eyes, taking in the side-by-side comparison. “Hee, that is you, down to your long lashes!” Your eyes dart between them both as you view them.

It's scary, but what's more daunting is staying in this creepy house any longer. You rid your thoughts of any ideas that a shapeshifter has stolen Heeseung’s body and placed it in the comically large doll box, gladly walking away from it.

Giving it one last stare, Heeseung sighs. “I hope someone finds you and gives you a good life.” He wishes the doll a farewell and walks behind you, the unease in his chest dissipating slightly as he follows your determined steps.

Taking the lead, Heeseung opens the next door once again, yet, instead of a room, you’re met with a long, pitch-black corridor that seems to stretch on forever with no end in sight. The air is thick, almost suffocating, and the faint echo of his footsteps reverberates through the darkness.

“I say we run through it,” you suggest, your voice echoing off the walls and adding to the eerie atmosphere. It's not your favourite choice, but you know there's a good chance the exit is right ahead.

Heeseung nods, focusing ahead. “We are good at running,” he jokes, causing you both to laugh. The eerie space fills with a haunting joy, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that has surrounded you.

Holding out your hand, you offer it to Heeseung. “On the count of three?”

“Three.”

Without a chance to comprehend what he says, Heeseung locks his fingers with yours and starts running, the sudden burst leaving you trailing behind him. Despite the darkness and the unknown ahead, you can't help but laugh, letting him lead you to safety. The adrenaline rush and the sound of your combined laughter make the moment surreal and oddly comforting.

Heeseung glances back at you despite only making out the shadow of you, the only light leaking from the room you were previously in. There's a moment where he can see the smile on your face and it causes his heart to pit a pat in his chest.

The corridor isn't actually that long, or maybe it’s the fun you’re having, but soon enough you’re both crashing through an emergency exit door, chests rising and falling with laughter and excitement. You feel like a kid again, running around without a care in the world, free from any negative thoughts or the wear and tear that adulthood has bestowed upon you.

The cool, fresh air hits your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating darkness inside. You never thought you would be happy to see the British skies before, suddenly admiring the beauty around you, despite the less-than-attractive surroundings. The contrast between the open, airy countryside and the eerie, claustrophobic house is stark, filling you with a newfound appreciation for the simplicity of the outdoors.

Stealing a glance at Heeseung, you notice how his face, although red from the cardio, looks so different. His eyes are lit up like a child at a Christmas market, his face visibly younger, and there is an air to him you haven’t seen before. He has always been beautiful, but now he looks pure and wholesome, his mind no longer bombarded with anxiety, nerves, or whatever else goes on inside that pretty head of his. The relief and exhilaration from escaping the haunted house paired with a moment of child-like freedom has brought out a serene glow in him.

Heeseung’s eyes meet yours as he straightens his back, his muscles relaxed now that he feels safe. "Now I know why people run through horror games," he chuckles, but his words are lost in the sweeping air, and you fail to register them, still caught in your reverie.

Your silence isolates you both, prompting Heeseung to examine you more closely. Maybe you're in shock from the scare the house gave you, or perhaps you're gathering your breath. He finds it unusual for you to be so quiet. You're just looking at him, lost in contemplation, with an inscrutable face that makes his smile fade somewhat.

"What is it? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with worry, his hand gently squeezing yours.

It takes you a minute to realise you’re staring at him, your brain clouded with so many thoughts and realisations that it shuts down for a moment. The overwhelming affection you feel for him leaves you momentarily speechless. Never in your life has a man rendered you incapable of basic human functions. The way he looks in the summer sun, the ease with which he’s starting to smile, makes your heart flutter in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Finally, you shake your head slightly, breaking free from your trance. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you murmur, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Let’s…go find another ride.” Changing the subject seems to be your only way out, so you use the whiplash as your opportunity to bolt before he asks something else.

“Hey, wait!” he shouts behind you in an attempt to slow you down, but you’re already steadily running towards the middle of the park. The crunch of gravel under your shoes is the only sound accompanying your rapid footsteps, the eerie silence of the abandoned amusement park amplifying every movement.

Your eyes scan over the abundance of left-to-die rides, mourning for them as you think about how they have been forced to remain stagnant. Surely they could have been reused somewhere else? Why is it that these particular machines weren’t good enough? The sight of rusted Ferris wheels and dilapidated roller coasters, their once vibrant colours now faded and peeling, tugs at your heartstrings.

As you weave through the overgrown pathways, you stumble upon something that catches your eye - a tunnel with a large, heart-shaped archway. The sign above it reads “Tunnel of Love,” but there’s no water in the canal below due to sunshine and abandonment. The boats that once floated gently along the waterway now sit dry and cracked, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The wooden planks of the dock are warped and splintered, evidence of the neglect they’ve suffered.

Stepping closer, you peer into the tunnel. The walls inside are decorated with faded murals of romantic scenes: lovers in rowboats under a starlit sky, holding hands as they drift through enchanted landscapes. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and mildew, the remnants of the once-glistening water now a distant memory. The cracked and dry canal floor, once a pathway for swaying boats, now lies abandoned, its purpose long forgotten.

Heeseung finally catches up, panting heavily. “Y/N, please don’t run away like that. Anyone or anything could be out here,” he scolds softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. He gives you a once-over, ensuring you haven't been hurt, scanning your form, checking for any signs of injury or distress. The thought of a rabid animal or some hidden danger lurking in the shadows sends a shiver down his spine. The idea of you being harmed, even by a scratch, is enough to send him into an anxious panic. He doesn’t even want to think about the state he would be in if you suddenly got caught by the police.

You see the worry etched on his face and feel a pang of guilt for making him anxious. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you say softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just…this place, it’s so fascinating in its own way.” You daren’t tell him it has anything to do with your mixed up feelings.

Heeseung’s expression softens at your words. “I know, it’s just…we have to be careful. This place is falling apart, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His eyes, full of concern, meet yours, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest at his protectiveness.

“I guess this is the wrong time to ask if we can go through the tunnel?” you sheepishly ask, hoping that he will say yes to your request. You have always wanted to go through a love tunnel, even just once.

Heeseung sets his focus down the dark tunnel and pouts slightly in thought. “Does it even still work?”

That is a question you don’t have even the tiniest speck of an answer for, but you can make the assumption that the correct one would be a hard no. Your face forms into a disappointed frown, your hopes of experiencing the ride now dismal.

Upon seeing your disappointment, Heeseung refuses to watch the excitement die inside of you. His mind races, desperate to find a way to make this moment special for you. Glancing around, his eyes catching sight of an old, weathered booth tucked away to the side.

“Wait here for a second, I’ll see if I can get it working,” he says, determination setting in as he walks over to the booth. The structure is small and dilapidated, with a sign above it that reads ‘Operator’. Heeseung pushes open the creaky door and steps inside, brushing away the cobwebs that cling to his shirt. The air is stale, filled with the scent of dust and decay, but he’s undeterred, thankful he is only scared of women and not spiders.

Inside, a control panel covered in grime greets him. It is a chaotic array of buttons, switches, and levers, each labelled with faded, barely legible text. Heeseung squints, trying to make sense of the worn labels: “Start,” “Stop,” “Lights,” “Music,” “Emergency.” He has no idea how to operate the machinery, but the thought of seeing you happy drives him forward.

Heeseung’s fingers hover over the buttons, hesitant. “Okay, let's see,” he mutters to himself, trying to recall any fragments of knowledge about old amusement park rides. He presses the “Start” button, hoping for some sign of life. A low hum fills the booth, and the old, rusted mechanisms of the tunnel creak in protest as they start to move.

Peering out of the booth, he sees a few of the dim fairy lights flicker to life inside the tunnel. The ancient bulbs struggle but manage to cast a faint, romantic glow along the pathway. Heeseung’s heart races with a mix of excitement and anxiety, hoping this will work.

He looks back at the panel and flips the switch labelled “Music.” A scratchy, old recording of a love song begins to play, the sound wavering but still charming in its vintage way. He can’t help but smile, imagining how you must be feeling right now.

“Oh my god, Hee, it’s on!” Heeseung's heart swells as he hears your delighted squeal echoing through the air. Despite the dusty and bug-infested surroundings of the booth, seeing you so excited makes every moment worthwhile. He steps out, wiping his hands on his shirt to rid them of the grime, and walks over to where you're standing by the entrance to the love tunnel.

Your face lights up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with joy. The soft glow of the tunnel's lights illuminates your features, casting a warm, romantic aura around you both. Heeseung can't help but smile back at you, his own happiness mirroring yours.

"I told you I would try," Heeseung says playfully, a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he glances towards the tunnel entrance. Inside, the flickering lights cast dancing shadows on the cracked walls, and the faint strains of the love song create an unexpectedly enchanting atmosphere.

"And I’ll never doubt you again," you reply with a bright smile, nudging him gently with your shoulder. "Can we just walk through it?" you ponder, noting the absence of water and the cracked boat that would have carried you through a dreamy water ride.

Heeseung chuckles softly at your playful nudge, feeling a warmth spread through him at your words of trust and appreciation. He meets your gaze, seeing sincerity and excitement shining through, and nods enthusiastically.

"Of course we can. Who’s going to stop us? Security?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Taking the leap, Heeseung gracefully jumps down into the tunnel, his lanky limbs giving him an effortless advantage. The worn, pool-like ground beneath him feels sturdy underfoot as he kicks away empty vodka bottles and shattered glass.

"Come on," he beckons with a gentle smile, his fingers curling inward to encourage you to join him in the deep space below.

Trusting in Heeseung’s ability to catch you, you sit on the edge and wait for him to position himself below. Heeseung stands ready with his arms outstretched, prepared to catch you. A wave of excitement and nervousness wells up in your chest. His sweet smile and supportive gesture fortify your resolve as you prepare to plunge.

“It’s okay, just jump, I’ll catch you,” he assures, his face conveying unwavering confidence in his ability to protect you. His voice, serene and certain, echoes gently in the tranquillity of the abandoned attraction.

His eyes never leave yours, filled with a warmth that melts away any lingering doubts. In that moment, his faith in your safety gives you the courage you need to push off the ledge. You’re not scared of heights, just of falling.

You propel yourself forward, the world momentarily blurring around you as gravity takes hold. The rush of wind fills your ears, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before you feel Heeseung's strong arms enveloping you. His embrace is secure and comforting, anchoring you safely in his grasp.

As you settle into his arms, a wave of relief washes over you, adrenaline slowly giving way to a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. Heeseung holds you close, his touch gentle yet firm, as if reassuring himself of your safety. His embrace is tighter than necessary, his hands cradling you protectively, and you feel the steady beat of his heart matching the rhythm of yours.

“See? I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a quiet strength and reassurance.

You blush slightly, grateful for his stability as you take a step back, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin, mingling with the surge of emotions coursing through you. Your dynamic shifts significantly in this moment; his confidence and reassurance are new, as is your sudden desire to shy away and twirl your hair.

Standing there, relishing the warmth of the moment, Heeseung softly extends his hand to you as a quiet invitation. His eyes, gentle and comforting, meet yours, softly indicating that he is ready whenever you are. The air around you seems to shimmer with the remnants of the love song echoing softly from the tunnel, adding to the novel ambience.

You peek down at his hand, which looks strong and welcoming. Without hesitation, you reach out, your fingers naturally linking with his.

Heeseung gives you a pleasant grin, his attention shifting to the tunnel entrance. "Shall we?" he says softly, his tone full of optimism and wonder. His grasp on your hand is firm yet kind, guiding you towards the darker entryway where pink-hued lights flicker and dance against the walls.

Taking a deep breath, you respond with a nod and a broad smile. Together, you enter the tunnel, the ground beneath your feet reverberating softly with each step.

The enchanting atmosphere grows as you and Heeseung venture deeper into the tunnel. The warm lights cast a soft glow on the forgotten walls, illuminating the path ahead with a dreamlike quality. You notice faded murals depicting whimsical scenes of enchanted forests and mythical creatures, their vibrant colours still peeking through despite years of neglect.

The tunnel widens into a larger chamber, revealing remnants of the once-grand attraction. Rusted railings and dilapidated boats lie abandoned, adding to the sense of forgotten magic. You can almost hear the echoes of laughter and the gentle splashes of water that once filled the air.

Heeseung watches you with a delighted smile as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder. He enjoys seeing you like this, so full of curiosity and excitement. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment for you.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. "It's like stepping into another world," you reply, your voice filled with awe.

There must have been thousands of couples who road down this exact path, hearts filled with love for their partners as they took in the different scenes meant to exhibit different kinds of love; a fairyland garden that depicted an elf picking a daisy for his faerie girlfriend, different forest animals around a campfire, each paired with their own lover.

The two of you explore the different sections of the attraction, each one more fascinating than the last. One passageway leads to a room filled with intricate mechanical contraptions, once part of a grand clockwork display.

In another area, you discover a garden-themed section, where overgrown vines and flowers have taken over, creating a beautiful, natural tapestry. The scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the dusty corridors you navigated earlier. Heeseung picks a small, wildflower and tucks it behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You're even more beautiful than the flowers," he says softly, causing you to blush and smile shyly. Heeseung can feel his fingers tremble slightly but he keeps his confident manner, pushing away his virgin nerves for a minute to give you the experience you deserve.

He is so sweet and you thank the heavens for allowing you to experience this tunnel with him.

Your journey takes you to the heart of the attraction, where a grand stage still stands. The stage is adorned with tattered curtains and faded decorations, but you can easily imagine the grandeur it once held. Before you stands a scene depicting a king and queen sitting proudly on their thrones, hands raised in a waving gesture, greeting their subjects with glee as they hold hands.

“I wanna get a closer look,” you say, your eyes glued to the regal couple. Heeseung nods and follows you without hesitation. “Can you boost me up?” you ask, glancing at the steep wall separating you from the display.

Nodding with an agreeable smile, Heeseung walks over to the wall and kneels beside it, his hands crossed on his knee to create a platform for you to step on. He thanks himself for playing Tomb Raider one too many times, giving him the knowledge to assist you properly without making it awkward.

Offering him a quick thanks, you place your foot on his hands and he lifts you up effortlessly. Your arms shake slightly as you pull yourself onto the platform, but you manage to steady yourself and take in the intricate details of the royal figures.

From your elevated vantage point, you can see the exquisite craftsmanship of the display, each feature carefully carved to bring the king and queen to life. The sight takes your breath away, and you share your amazement with Heeseung, who watches you with a proud smile.

"It's even more incredible up close," you say, your voice filled with awe.

Wanting to get in on the action, Heeseung searches around, looking for something to help him up to the platform that you seem so amazed by. There isn’t much but rubbish and some strewn, soggy leaves. He would ask you for a hand up but he’s scared he’ll drag you right back down again.

Pacing the area, he finally comes across a ladder which has obviously fallen from the wall, with sections of the steps missing, the rust from the metal enough to make his skin crawl as he thinks about all the time he refused to get a tetanus shot at the doctor's; oh, how that would come in handy now.

Heeseung chooses to take the risk, picking it up and placing it against the wall before hastily mounting it, fearful that it will slip and he'll end up with more damage than lockjaw.

Fortunately for him, he gets up relatively easily and can finally join you in the delight. His eyes scan the scene before him, and he realises why you were so determined to make it up here. The slight flush on the queen's cheeks and the king's adoring stare at his wife epitomise love, showcasing their devotion as though they were real people.

Whoever made this park put time and effort into every small detail. It’s a shame entire generations will miss out on it.

Timidly, you walk over to the dolls, a lingering fear that they might come to life still gripping you. The haunted house has left your nerves frayed, making everything seem like a potential threat. However, they sit obediently in place, their eyes unmoving and thankfully unbothered as you begin to move them, eager to sit on the throne they possess.

Gently, you place them on the ground beside one another, ensuring they remain together. You turn to the throne and feel the material, testing its sturdiness to make sure you don’t fall through when you sit.

Heeseung watches you with a mix of amusement and admiration. "I think it's safe," he says, offering a reassuring smile, his hand outstretched to guide you to the seat.

You take a deep breath and carefully lower yourself onto the throne. To your relief, it holds firm, and you find yourself seated in the seat of royalty. The sensation is surreal, almost making you feel powerful, and you realise why the monarchy insists on these comically massive chairs.

“Imagine being the queen,” you muse aloud, rubbing the armrests as you commit every fine detail to memory. The intricate carvings of flowers and vines shine back at you as you unintentionally clean away the buildup of dust.

“I’d vote for you,” Heeseung replies, admiring the sight of you seated on the throne.

You look up at him with confusion. “Heeseung, it’s the Prime Minister we vote for, not the queen,” you say, wondering how on earth he confused the two.

He scratches his arm, a nervous habit of his when he feels even the tiniest bit embarrassed. “Oh, well…I’d still vote for you to rule the world somehow,” he says sheepishly, his eyes falling to the floor. He wishes he could pretend he didn't get them mixed up, but in his mind, they all merge together, perhaps due to years of neglect by both parties.

You giggle and swing your feet, enjoying normalcy for once. It reminds you of the conversations you had with the girls, helping one another to learn even the most obvious things. One of them once asked if Essex was a continent, and you had to gently explain cities and countries.

You took those times for granted.

The music suddenly changes to a softer melody, like one from a jewellery box, pulling you back to the present. The beautiful sound carries an air of love around you, filling the tunnel with a tender, enchanting atmosphere.

Heeseung also notices the change and sees the quiet excitement on your face, the elation evident in your eyes. The corners of your lips turn up in a smile, showing him how much you love the song.

Offering you his hand, he bows slightly. "Would the queen like to dance?" he asks, his embarrassment and nerves dissipating as he watches your reaction.

"The queen would be honoured," you reply with a playful smile, taking his hand and standing up. The two of you move into a waltzing position, or at least as close as two amateurs can manage.

Heeseung's hand rests gently on your waist, and you place yours on his shoulder. Your feet move in tandem with his, following his lead as he sways you softly from side to side. The rhythm is simple, almost instinctual, as you both find a comfortable pace. Heeseung twirls you around, guiding you with a delicate touch. The tunnel fills with laughter as you both realise how terrible you are at dancing, your steps more like a gentle walk back and forth rather than any actual dance move.

The flickering lights cast a warm, romantic glow on your faces, adding to the dreamlike quality of the moment. You can't help but feel a sense of euphoria, the combination of the music, the setting, and Heeseung's presence creates a perfect moment of bliss. Each step, each movement, is filled with unspoken words and shared smiles.

Heeseung's eyes never leave yours, and you feel a profound connection with him, as if the entire world has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this enchanted place. His fingers are warm against your back, his grip secure yet gentle, providing a sense of safety and comfort.

As you continue to sway, you can hear Heeseung's soft breaths, matching the rhythm of the music. You lean in closer, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"You know," you whisper, a hint of teasing in your voice, "your heart doesn't beat as fast as it used to."

Heeseung huffs out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your body. "I guess I'm getting used to having you close," he replies, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. His tone turns slightly more serious as he speaks again, his grip on you tightening slightly. “And I feel safe with you; I think that’s why.”

His confession causes you to look up at him. The sincerity on his face adds weight to his words. The emotion in his eyes is pure, and you know he means it. You've seen him grow comfortable with you over the weeks, but hearing him say it out loud makes your stomach do cartwheels.

Taking his hand, you place it gently over your heart, his palm resting just on top of your left breast. Your actions startle him at first, but he soon relaxes, feeling your heartbeat which matches his own rhythm.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you beam at him. “I guess mine feels safe with you too.”

The moment stretches, the air between you thickening with an electric charge. Heeseung’s eyes darken slightly as they flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. His hand remains on your chest, the warmth of his palm seeping through your shirt, creating a connection that feels almost tangible.

You can feel his breath on your skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours. Slowly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a centimeter away from yours. The anticipation makes your heart race even faster, and you close the gap, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss.

The initial contact is soft and tentative, testing the waters. But as soon as your lips meet, an undeniable heat flares between you. Heeseung’s hand moves from your chest to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

This isn’t your first kiss with him, yet it feels entirely different to the ones you have shared before, although still as intoxicating, this one also ignites your soul in ways you never thought possible, the feeling as though you are opening yourself up to him completely. It could be the romantic atmosphere, or it could be something more.

The kiss deepens, growing more passionate with each passing second. Heeseung’s other hand settles on your waist, drawing you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against your own, creating a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the dance of your lips.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss further. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking entry, and you part them willingly, allowing him to explore. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

The heat between you intensifies, your bodies pressing closer together as if trying to meld into one. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even nearer. Heeseung responds with a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and igniting a fire in your belly.

His hand slowly begins to massage your tit, causing you to roll your head back and break the kiss, enjoying the feeling of being touched. Moans escape your throat as you relish in his contact. However, as Heeseung makes his way to capture your lips with urgency, you find yourself falling back, losing your footing and stumbling back onto the throne, dragging the man down with you.

Heeseung panics, terrified that his body weight has somehow hurt you upon impact. But as your lips find his again, all worries melt away with each stroke and swirl of your tongue against his. You are so lost in him that you fail to notice how your head hits the backrest of the throne, likely causing you a migraine in the hours to come.

The surroundings seem to fade as your world narrows down to just the two of you. The throne room, once a grand stage, now a silent witness to your burgeoning romance, adds an air of surreal magic to the moment. The tattered curtains sway gently with the breeze, and the faded decorations glint faintly in light, casting a soft glow that bathes you both in a warm, intimate embrace.

Grabbing your hips, Heeseung shifts you to sit more comfortably on the throne. His lips move from yours to your neck, exploring the tender skin there with a mix of reverence and desire. Your natural scent drives him wild, his nose ghosting over your pulse points before licking and sucking them gently.

The action causes you to whimper, legs spreading instinctively as he turns you into a puddle of arousal beneath him. It’s incredible how a man who has never touched a woman is somehow doing more for you than any experienced man ever could. It’s as if he came straight from a dream factory, complete with the sex function already installed, add-ons included. Even the way he holds you, his fingers digging into your hips just right, is enough to have your hips bucking into his.

"Heeseung," you moan, threading your fingers into his hair. With gentle force, you begin to push his head down, guiding him to where you need him most.

Eyes widening, Heeseung retreats slightly. "Y/N, I-"

"Please, Heeseung," you beg, your face a picture of desperation.

Heeseung wants nothing more than to rid you of your clothes and devour you like his life depends on it, but a constant, nagging fear lingers in the back of his mind: what if he does it wrong? This is the first time he'll even see a vagina up close, let alone have the pressure to please the woman he adores.

Of course, he has watched the porn tapes that Jongseong and Jaeyun somehow managed to collect from a shady dealer in Camden Market, and there are the magazines he looks at for some light reading, but never has he seen one in the flesh. His face goes slightly red, and you can see him retreating back to the boy who first stepped into the hotel room, panic and fear springing to life in his eyes as he contemplates the notion of giving you head.

Reaching over, you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly in an attempt to ease his mind. "Hee, just do what feels right. I trust you."

The affirmation in your voice, coupled with the tender touch of your fingers, reassures him. Heeseung takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with newfound resolve. Slowly, he lowers himself between your thighs, his hands sliding up your legs and parting them gently.

With shaky fingers, he unbuttons your jean shorts and pulls them down, taking your panties along with them. His heart skips approximately three beats as he stares at your heat, its slight glisten caught in the faded overhead lights of the platform.

It's even more beautiful than he could ever have imagined, the heat radiating from it as it calls him closer, whispering pleas to be touched that only he can hear.

Gathering his courage, he starts with tentative kisses, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your centre. You can feel his breath, warm and teasing, and it makes your heart race even faster. His hands, steady now, grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he finally reaches his destination.

Heeseung’s first touch is gentle, a soft press of his lips against your most sensitive spot. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching off the throne. Encouraged by your response, he grows bolder, his tongue darting out to taste you. The initial hesitancy fades away, replaced by a focused intensity as he explores, learning what makes you squirm and moan with pleasure.

The taste is foreign but far from unpleasant. He can see himself becoming addicted to you with each long stripe of his tongue up your folds. He closes his eyes, harnessing all his senses to taste you and hear your heaven-sent moans filter through his ears.

Your hands find his head, pushing him further in as you urge him to be a little more dominant, his soft licks now teasing you as you crave more. “Heeseung,” you begin, eyes closed while you practically hump his face, using his sharp nose to stimulate your nub. “Focus on my clit, please.” The instruction is so breathy that it doesn’t sound demanding at all but rather pleading.

Hearing your soft cries, Heeseung darts his tongue around clumsily until he comes across your sensitive nub, its swollen state making it easier to find. That was a worry of his after hearing countless conversations in uni from girls about men never finding it, yet, he had nothing to be anxious about because, despite other men’s incompetence, he latches onto it quickly, sucking and swirling his muscle around it.

The sounds of his slurping mixed with your groans of pleasure echo around the tunnel, truly transforming it into its branded name. He’s hitting all the spots, although sometimes lacking direction and ruining the rhythm, yet he always manages to find his way back to the spots you crave him.

Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle suck, drives you higher, the sensations building into an overwhelming crescendo. Your hands grip his hair tightly, your hips moving of their own accord, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he’s giving you.

“Heeseung,” you moan, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

He responds with a low hum, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure that’s consuming you. His tongue moves with increasing confidence, drawing out whimpers and cries from you that bounce straight to his semi-hard cock. The feeling of his mouth on you, his hands holding you steady, is almost too much to bear.

Your thighs clamp around his head, trapping him between your legs and signalling your impending climax. The feeling of suffocating at the hands of your pleasure feels like such a heavenly way to die that Heeseung doesn’t mind it one bit.

The tip of his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, the ridgedness of him stimulating you over the edge and causing you to come undone around him, your entire upper body removing itself from the backrest and hunching over him, your fingers gripping his hair painfully as the high rushes through your veins.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your cunt riding his face as it spreads your juices over him, marking the man as your own.

Heeseung smiles as he feels you cum over his tongue, a swelling sense of pride enveloping his body as he makes you wriggle in ecstasy. He made a girl cum, him, the virgin who only 10 minutes ago hadn’t even seen a pussy before, and now here you are, losing yourself in euphoria all because of him and his newly experienced tongue.

He will give himself a pat on the back later.

Just as you begin to relax, your muscles unclenching and your heart settling into a steady rhythm, the lights above suddenly go out. The warm white and pink hues that had bathed the tunnel vanish, plunging you both into complete darkness.

For a moment, there is silence. The absence of light seems to amplify the sounds around you—the faint echo of your breathing, the soft rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifts nervously. The air feels heavier now, thick with uncertainty and a touch of apprehension.

“Fuck, the ride must shut off automatically,” you conclude, only grounded in your panic due to the touch from Heeseung.

Heeseung lifts his head from between your legs, sitting on his feet as he looks around for a spec of light. Unlike the haunted house, there are no windows to even offer you a glimpse of light, it is pitch black and suddenly very, very cold.

Feeling around him, Heeseung retrieves your shorts from the ground before manoeuvring around in the darkness to help you put them back on. His heart sinks a little at the sudden interruption because although unconventional and spur of the moment, this could have been his opportunity to lose his v-card, finally ridding him of what he found a burden.

If his cock could talk, it would be sobbing as it gets left in his boxers for one more day. It craves to be inside you but for now, he just needs to focus on both of you getting out of the tunnel safely.

Standing up, Heeseung feels for your hand in the darkness, gently pulling you up from the throne. “Hold onto my hand but let me go first. I’ll get us down,” he says with determination. His face is close to yours, his breath warm on your forehead, your body so near to his that you could almost feel the heat radiating between you.

Interlocking your fingers with his, you feel his confident movements as he tests the ground ahead. He stretches out his foot, tapping lightly to gauge if there’s solid ground beneath him, repeating the process around him. He’s grateful for the random fireman experience he attended in his last year of high school, recalling the lessons on how to navigate in darkness or low-visibility situations.

He repeats the tapping process four times, methodically feeling his way forward until he finally senses the edge of the platform. The drop feels daunting in the darkness, making Heeseung feel the same sense of vulnerability you had felt earlier. Everything seems more intimidating when you’re smaller and engulfed by darkness.

Heeseung’s voice cuts through the darkness, calm yet laced with concern. “I’ve found the edge. I’ll go first and help you down.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly, a reassuring squeeze that conveys both determination and comfort in equal measure.

“Be careful, Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice resonating faintly in the vast, silent tunnel.

Heeseung guides you to sit on the edge, his movements deliberate and careful. He positions himself next to you, his posture steady as he prepares to descend. “Wait there,” he instructs softly, before shifting his weight and gingerly sliding down the rough surface of the wall.

Each movement is cautious and deliberate. Heeseung avoids taking any unnecessary risks, mindful of the darkness that blankets you both. His hands grip the uneven edges of the wall, his feet finding purchase on the slight protrusions of the structure. He gently eases down until he finally finds stability on the ground.

Heeseung's mind races with unwelcome images of scurrying rats, the darkness amplifying his unease. His skin prickles with imagined sensations, the urge to escape the enclosed space growing stronger with each passing moment. He shakes off the disturbing thoughts, reminding himself firmly that he is in Scotland, far from the bustling streets of downtown New York.

Reaching out in the darkness, Heeseung’s hand finds your legs, and he squeezes them reassuringly, a silent gesture to remind you that he is there, a steady presence amidst the unsettling environment. "Okay, Y/N," he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and encouragement, "you can come down now."

You nod, though he cannot see it, your trembling arms inching closer to the edge. Your heart pounds in your chest, the platform feeling less secure than ever before. "Please catch me," you plead, your voice shaky with fear, hesitant to move until you hear his reassuring words.

"Always, Y/N. I’m right here," Heeseung murmurs, his lips pressing a kiss to your leg in a tender gesture of reassurance, letting his protective instincts guide him through the darkness, pushing aside his usual nervous demeanour.

Taking a shaky breath, you curse Heeseung inwardly for rendering your body weak with his earlier ministrations, his tongue that you were blessing now cursed in your mind. Your legs feel like jelly as you begin your descent, every movement wary. The darkness seems to press in around you, adding to your unease.

Heeseung’s hands are steady and sure as he guides you down, his touch gentle yet firm. You feel his support anchoring you, easing your fall despite the lingering fear. His presence beside you is a constant source of reassurance, his voice offering encouragement whenever doubt creeps in. “I got you, Y/N.”

Finally, your feet touch solid ground, the relief palpable as you stand in the blackout. Your hands find Heeseung’s waist, gratitude flooding your heart for his unwavering support through the ordeal as you stand there embracing one another.

"Thank you," you breathe, your voice a whisper of genuine appreciation as you lean into his reassuring touch. His thumbs graze your waist as he nods, “Like I said, always.”

With your hand securely in his, he moves meticulously and slowly through the maze of darkness and debris. You trust him completely and follow his path to safety. The tunnel echoes with the sound of your footsteps, the only audible reassurance in the otherwise eerie silence. Heeseung's grasp tightens encouragingly anytime you come across an invisible obstacle, his presence serving as a continuous anchor in the unnerving gloom.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in the blackened tunnel, you emerge into the brightness of daytime at the end. The relief washes over you like a wave, the outside world a welcome contrast to the claustrophobic darkness you just escaped. Heeseung turns to you, his expression softened with relief and pride.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and triumph. His hand squeezes yours gently. Nodding in agreement, you offer him a small smile back, just relieved to see his face once again.

There, at the edge of the moat, a ladder beckons you both to climb. Its rungs, weathered and rusted, speak of years spent in neglect. Despite its worn appearance, it stands as a symbol of escape and freedom from the underground labyrinth you ventured through.

Heeseung is just glad he doesn’t need to find another rusted tool to help him up this time. With a determined stride, he begins to ascend the ladder, each step bringing him closer to the surface and away from the shadows that had engulfed you moments before. The ladder creaks under his weight, but it holds steady, a testament to its enduring strength despite its aged appearance.

You follow closely behind, feeling the warm sunlight kiss your skin as you emerge from the depths. With each rung you climb, the darkness recedes further into memory, replaced by the promise of open skies and fresh air.

As you reach the top, Heeseung extends a hand to help you over the edge. Together, you stand on solid ground once more, the moat and tunnel behind you now a part of your shared adventure. The world around you seems brighter, more vivid, as if the ordeal has heightened your senses to appreciate the simplest joys of daylight and freedom.

Well, as much freedom as you have considering there is a whole national police force after you.

Looking at your saviour once more, you see your juices still drenched over his face and it elicits a small giggle from you. The sound causes Heeseung’s brows to quirk, questioning your sudden change in mood.

“You have a little something on your face,” you answer his silent question, reaching up to wipe him clean, your thumb brushes over his chin and cheeks, feeling the faint hint of stubble under your thumbprint.

The moment is so tender despite the lewd action that resulted in this. His eyes fall shut as you continue to clean him, never missing a drop, leaving his mouth last. You lean up and kiss him ever so gently, his lips that are swollen from their labour meld with yours so beautifully, like they are made for you and only you.

As you kiss him, the tension of the moment begins to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if to ensure you won't slip away. The stubble on his face grazes your skin gently, a contrast to the softness of his lips as they move against yours.

There's a lingering taste, a mix of sweetness and saltiness, that stays on his lips from moments before. It's a reminder of the passion shared, now tempered by this gentle act of cleaning up.

When you finally break the kiss, your eyes meet his, and there's an unspoken understanding passing between you. It's not just about what happened, but about this moment of tenderness and care that followed.

His fingers trace a delicate line from your waist to your jaw, his touch light yet firm, something u spoken lingering in the air. You lean into his touch, a small smile curving your lips, feeling the warmth of his hand as it cradles your face. The world around you seems to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment of fragile yet profound intimacy.

Heeseung's heart pounds fiercely in his chest, each beat a testament to the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. Affection and reverence blend together, overwhelming his mind and filling him with a dizzying sense of attachment. Every fibre of his being is drawn to you, the intensity of his feelings almost nauseating in its potency.

He exhales slowly, his breath trembling as he gazes deeply into your eyes. His thumb strokes the apples of your cheeks, his touch gentle. He wants to tell you everything, to lay bare the depth of his emotions he feels for you.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I-"

His words are abruptly cut off, his body tensing as he feels the cold, unforgiving pressure of a metallic object against the back of his head. The sudden intrusion of another presence is palpable, the heat radiating from the person standing dangerously close behind him.

"Don't fucking move."

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #aj writes #lee heeseung smut

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 7] The Secretary

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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You’re a bit shaken up when you get off the elevator, perplexed by his words. A surge of emotions flows through you. You’re fighting back a smile while your blood boils. Of course he has the audacity to say that. He doesn’t have that right.

When you’re back at your desk you take a moment to breathe. You can’t believe it. How dare he? He should’ve stayed quiet because he doesn’t have the right to speak to you in any kind of way– To even comment on your looks. You’ll be thinking about this for the entire day, it’s hard not to, considering how fast your heart beats.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice when Shoko walks up to your desk. She taps on your desk, and you look up at her. She raises her brows, tilting her head before commenting, “Caught you off guard. What were you thinking?”

You shake your head, before sheepishly smiling at her. You clear your throat before telling her, “Nothing.”

“Did Satoru do something?” She asks and you shake your head. You’re definitely not going to tell her about Satoru’s comment. You do have a question though.

“Shoko… Is Satoru fucking his secretary?” The question that leaves your lips leaves the woman wide-eyed. She then furrows her eyebrows, she lightly shakes her head.

“How would I know? I don’t exactly keep up with him. I literally found out just the other day that he has a son.” She answers. She puts her index finger up before saying, “In his defense, he doesn’t know it either.”

“So you don’t know. Thanks.” You respond, rolling your eyes, and she ends up shrugging before walking into her office. The thought of his secretary and what he said to you lingers on your mind. How does he even say that when it’s so clear that he’s having some type of relationship with her? Not even that, he’s married. He’s fucking married. You never thought that Satoru was the type of man to cheat but you know that look in his eyes all too well. Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you thought.

It hurts you to know that Satoru is not the man you thought he was– Well, he had shown himself but you thought that at the very least he’d make a good husband. However, he has proved you wrong. Maybe it’s just a figment of your imagination, perhaps you’re overanalyzing and dramatizing a simple look and a smile.

You doubt it though.

Like clockwork, a rumor goes around the office that there’s something going on with Mr. Gojo, the new president of the company, and his secretary. You don’t start such a rumor though, another employee does. You immediately know it’s true.

Shoko asks you if you made up the rumors, and you deny it. You don’t gain anything from it, and while she thinks you’re lying at first, she believes you. You really don’t benefit from it, maybe they’re just rumors that happen to be true. Maybe an employee caught them. There’s many possibilities.

In the end, it’s none of your business.

“Satoru.” Mrs. Gojo barges into the office, finding her son mindlessly reading a report in his hands. He looks up from it to find his mother enraged. He sighs, rubbing his temple since he feels the headache that’s coming. “Would you care to explain what I just heard?”

He closes the report and tosses it on the desk. He crosses his arms before asking, “What did you just hear, mother?”

“Are you fucking your secretary?” Her tone is more accusatory rather than curious, and while Satoru would like to argue with her for not trusting him, she isn’t exactly… Wrong. But he isn’t going to admit it. He ends up shaking his head, but that obviously isn’t enough. He looks guilty. “Fire her.”

“Why?” Satoru asks, making her scoff. She crosses her arms, her index tapping on her arm. She can’t believe he’s asking that stupid question. She opens her mouth, about to speak, but Satoru speaks again, “If it bothers you so much just move her somewhere else. You were so bothered about my ex yet you hired her to work for you. By the way, why did you do it? I swore that you hated her.”

“Why I hired her is none of your business, Satoru. Plus, I don’t hate her.” She answers, making Satoru sigh. That doesn’t answer any of his questions. But he knows that he can’t push his mother, he knows better than anyone how she is. “I told you to fire that woman, and that’s what you’ll do.”

“Give me a reason.” Satoru says, and she raises her brows. Her nails dig into her skin before she opens her mouth to speak,

“My reason is that because of me, you’re sitting in that chair. You want to live a magnificent lifestyle and have your prestigious job? You follow my orders.” Her words make Satoru purse his lips together. He’s about to argue with her, but she says, “I can turn every board member against you, they weren’t even sure about giving you the presidency. Follow my orders.”

Satoru bites down on his lip. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say something else, but he really can’t. He really can’t say anything else but, “Yes, mother.”

“Good. I’ll get Shoko’s assistant working here while you find a new one.” Satoru doesn’t catch on quickly, but when he does, he knows that she’s doing it on purpose. He sighs before he nods.

“C’mon, Ren. Finish your veggies.” You have to tell the young boy that refuses to eat the broccoli and carrots that are on his plate; he’s become picky lately even though he used to love broccoli and carrots before. You assume that the older he gets, the more picky he becomes. He shakes his head, which causes you to sigh. “You won’t get any kind of dessert if you don’t finish your veggies.”

“I don’t like them!” He claims, pushing his plate away from him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. You don’t have the energy to argue with him, you’re simply too exhausted from the work day. You hear as someone unlocks the front door, and when you’re about to pick up Ren to hide because you assume someone is trying to break into the apartment, you hear her voice when she enters the apartment.

“Where are you?” It makes you sigh. You tell her where you are, and when Mrs. Gojo is at the dinner table, Ren’s eyes light up. He stands up on the chair to hug his grandmother, and she picks him up before kissing his forehead.

“Grammy, I’ve missed you.” Ren says, and you nearly roll your eyes. You know immediately that she’s the reason Ren is refusing to eat his vegetables; while a grandmother’s job is to spoil her grandchild, she must also respect your wishes but she doesn’t. She just enables Ren, disregarding you.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you too, my sweet boy. I’ll be visiting you more frequently, I promise.” Mrs. Gojo tells him. You look at Ren’s plate of unfinished food, and you stand up from the chair and pick it up. Now that Mrs. Gojo is here, you know that the plate will end up uneaten. You begin to clean up, rolling your eyes at the sound of Ren interacting with his grandmother. You can’t stand her.

“Hey, I came here to tell you something.” Mrs. Gojo walks into the kitchen, holding your son in her arms, and you turn off the faucet to completely focus on her. You dry off your hands on your pants before you put your hands on your hips. “You’ll be working with my son until he finds a new secretary.”

“Were the rumors true?” You mindlessly ask, and she furrows her brows and squints her eyes.

“You don’t get to ask questions.” She responds, and you click your tongue before you turn your attention back to the dishes. Too focused on the veracity of the rumors, it doesn’t hit you that she told you that you’ll be working with Satoru. Not until you hear,

“You have a son?” Ren quite doesn’t understand how his grandmother is his grandmother– He just knows he adores her, and it’s quite shocking to know that she has kids. Ren knows why your mother is his grandmother but not this woman…

“Yes, dear, your father.” She says nonchalantly, and your eyes widen. Ren’s eyes light up in excitement and he smiles– So he does have a father.

“Can I meet him?” He’s quick to ask, and you suck your bottom lip in. You take a deep breath, but it’s her situation to handle. She’s the one that brought it all up. When you turn to see what she does, she does nothing but shake her head.

Then it hits you, you’re going to be working with Satoru. You can’t stop your tongue, “What the hell do you mean I’m going to be working with your son?”

“That you’ll be working with him. That’s that.” She puts Ren down on the floor, while the little boy points his hands together. You nearly burst into tears as you watch him beg his grandmother,

“Can I please meet my daddy? Please? Pleaseeee?”

“No, Ren. And that’s final.” She says, and he crosses his arms. He pouts as he walks away, too mad at his grandmother to even look at her. She’s the one that always says yes, so why is she saying no to this? Instead of paying attention to the boy, she looks at you and tells you, “You’ll be reporting to Satoru tomorrow, so don’t bother going to Shoko.”

“And what if I refuse?” You respond. You already agreed to so much, but working directly with Satoru is the last thing you refuse to accept. You wonder what she’d do if you refused.

“You see this luxurious apartment that you’ll never be able to afford?” She begins, and you sigh. Of course. You also know that she’ll take Ren– Maybe not give him to Satoru, but make a nanny raise him. “Do I need to finish? It’s just for a short time, dear. It’s not worth the fuss.”

“Right.” You sigh before turning back around and focusing on the dishes. She stares for a moment before turning around, and going to Ren.

He has a short-term memory for the people that have wronged him so it’s no issue for her to interact with her grandson yet again.

It doesn’t surprise you that when you arrive at the office the next morning, Satoru calls you into his office. He doesn’t let you settle into your desk first, he doesn’t want to waste any time. You stand across from him, while he sits comfortably on his chair. You expect him to be personal, to talk about your previous relationship. It’s shocking when he doesn’t.

“I expect you to be here earlier. You’ll be working with me, not Shoko, therefore you’ll have a different schedule.” Satoru tells you, and you deeply inhale before exhaling. “I expect you to be competent. Leave anything personal at home. You can be professional, right?”

“Satoru–” You begin but he interrupts you.

“Mr. Gojo.” He corrects you.

“Mr. Gojo, I assure you, unlike your previous secretary, I am extremely professional.” You smile at him, and his eyebrows raise. He rolls his eyes. You find yourself irritated at the fact that he expects professionalism from you after the comment he made in the elevator– And you’re shocked to see how fast his attitude has changed. Satoru is not the same person he was five years ago.

“There’s no way you believe those stupid rumors. I thought you out of all people would be smarter than that.” Satoru comments and you shrug in response. You look around the office, looking for a single picture of his wife, but there is none.

“I mean… I saw the way you looked at her. I’m not dumb, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him, and he bites his tongue. He can’t argue with that. You smooth out your skirt before weakly smiling at him and changing the topic, “Would you like to start your day with a coffee or tea, sir?”

“Coffee.” He answers, and you nod in response. You turn on your heel and you begin to walk out of the office, until his voice strikes you and it causes you to freeze. “You know, you don’t have to act like you don’t know me. You’ve always known that I like to drink coffee in the morning.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” You look at him, tilting your head. “We don’t know each other, how am I supposed to know that you drink coffee?”

“I–” He opens then closes his mouth. It feels strange for a woman that’s known him for twenty one years to say that– A woman that he got to know for sixteen years, a woman that he was in a romantic relationship from eighteen to twenty one. But he doesn’t know why he expected anything different, even when he knows that you know him better than anyone.

“Everything okay?” You ask him.

“Everything’s fine.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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silliest-donkey · 2 months

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Oh, to be loved by an artist. [chapter one]

wlw (men DNi !!) // smut (minors DNi !!) // reader receiving // artist!ellie x waitress!reader // obsessive!ellie // stalker-ish!ellie // gentledom!ellie // modern Jackson, no outbreak AU // slowburn // popular!el

Another day, another agonizing shift at the Tipsy Bison. You have been working in the main street's pub part time ever since you had moved to Jackson for college two months ago. You had left your hometown behind, eager to step out of your comfort zone and push yourself to become the independant, educated, and hopefully successful woman you've always dreamed to be.

You had found yourself a small, but cozy apartment in the suburbs of the town. It wasn't perfect - to be fair, it was more of a room than an apartment - but at least it was yours. You worked at your part-time job every evening apart from sundays. The pay was a bit tight, but you had tried your best to squeeze in enough working hours to pay rent and give yourself a decent lifestyle without needing to rely on your family.

This evening, as usual, the pub was crowded. The room was bustling with mixed up sounds of laughter and drinks. You had to pay extra attention to not spill the orders you were carrying, swiftly slaloming between drunk clients and hormonal youngsters.

You put down on the end of the lounge area three cocktails. The girl who had ordered them was a regular at the pub. She would often invite people for a drink and a mundane debate about fine arts. As you took the change, she gave you her usual smirk. "Took you long enough, missy. Here's your tip." she chuckled, sneaking money in the back pocket of your jeans. Her touch wasn't strong enough to be damned inappropriate, but the feeling of her slender fingers was still lingering on your back.

You gave her no reaction whatsoever, already used to her weirdo behavior, and well aware she only did it to get a strike out of you. You walked away, focusing on handling the rest of the orders, cursing that cocky girl in your head.

Her name was Ellie Williams, and oh boy, was she popular. She was Jackson's renowned and cherished little artist. Won a few awards there and there, held a few meetings there and there, always with some drinks at the Tipsy Bison in-between, of course. Everytime you had to bear her presence made you want to rip your nails off. You saw through her nonchalant facade, and hated the way she would always give the same, boring speech to the people she invited. It was clear she was doing what was best to follow the trend and attract as many people as possible, and no matter how necessary this probably was for a full-time artist, you couldn't stand this show-off behavior.

Today was the end of your second month of working at the Tipsy Bison. After the bar closed, your manager gave the team a restrospective about this month's business. You yawned, occasionally nodding to pretend you were listening, when the only thing you could ever think about was getting back home. Without interacting with your colleagues, you left the bar as soon as you retrieved your paycheck, alongside your timetable for the next month. At your surprise, your shifts got changed to the early mornings. You just would have to hop at the bar for a few hours before going to college. No more busy nights. And, most importantly, no more noisy Ellie Williams.

Or at least, you thought so.

After a peaceful week of enjoying your new timetable, Ellie made her appearance again. She started visiting the bar in the mornings, ordering cups of hot chocolate or smoothies, sketching on her notebook for hours.

You had never seen this side of her before. In the mornings, when she was deep in thought, with no guests to entertain, no potential client to impress, she almost looked cute. You felt frustrated of thinking so, and did not let it show. But you couldn't deny the hint of attractiveness you had discovered in her, in the way she would lean back against her seat, a strand of her hair falling over her rosy lips, which were slightly parted in focus, as she studied her papers.

The first days, you did not pay that much attention to her. However, as the weeks passed, your switched often between morning and night shifts. And Ellie never missed even one. Whenever your starting hour went up or down, you noticed Ellie's visit to the bar would too. Claiming this unexpected turn of events as a coincidence was not possible anymore. It was clear that Ellie had her eyes on you. With no interruption, you could feel the weight of her emerald gaze crushing you down. Everytime you turned around, you saw her eyes boring into yours. She always kept a neutral expression, not even bothering to break eye contact, her slim fingers moving a pencil on their own over her sketchbook.

At first, you thought her behavior was just another scheme to get under your skin. But, day after day, the way her eyes fluttered at your every move gave you a sense of thrill you had never known before. It felt like she could impale you from across the bar with her eyes only.

One day, Ellie left the bar in a hurry, seemingly picking up an urgent call. When you went up to her table to retrieve the money she had left to pay for her drink, you found her notebook. Guessing she had forgotten about it as she left in a rush, you decided to keep it until she came back. As your hands met the softness of the leather cover, numerous unattached sheets of paper flew away from the pages, scattering all over the ground.

You cursed under your breath, crouching down to pick back up the dozens of fleeing paper. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks.

The papers were full of drawings of you, in all angles, sides, poses and shapes possible. You were not imagining things, it really was you. And the oldest date on the sketches was from months ago.

You put over the table the pile of drawings, a bit shaken at the sight. Before you could think about shoving the sheets back into the notebook, you heard the sound of someone clicking their tongue behind your back.

"Ah ah ah. What do we have here, hmm." Ellie's sultry voice tickled your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. You did not dare to turn to look at her. You muttered an excuse, before rushing back to your orders, disappearing behind the counter.

Ellie watched you run away, a vicious smirk curling her plump lips.

You spent the rest of your shift pretending this never happened. Your mind was racing with sights of the countless drawings Ellie had made of you during the past months. The realization that it was what she continuously sketched, while staring at you from across the bar with such an intense gaze, had left quite the impression on you.

You went through the rest of your day on auto-pilot, your mind constantly throwing back at you memories of the morning's events. When your day was finally over, and you were back to the outskirts of the town, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. As you got out of the bus, you reassured yourself. You were far away from downtown, about to get back home. You would take a hot, cozy bath, and hopefully forget about the rollercoaster you had to face earlier that day.

You thought you had escaped, that you would be able to push back the wave of emotions flooding into your core, telling yourself it was, once more, just another day of Ellie being her sneaky, creepy self.

But you, in fact, had not escaped one bit.

A smug Ellie was leaned back against the front door of your building.

"There you are." she hummed, looking you up and down, pushing herself away from the wall.

"How'd you get my adress?" You asked coldly, trying your best to keep your composure.

Ellie stood right in front of you, a strand of her hair brushing against your upper lip.

"I have my ways." she stated, as you felt knots forming in your stomach, unable to decipher if those came rather from anxiety or arousal.

"What do you want?"

Ellie's smirk widened at your question. You were in trouble.

"I'm looking for a new model, for my next collection of sculptures. You could be the perfect match." she stated, awkwardly chuckling, fidgeting with the strings of her hoodie.

"I am not interested, Williams. One of your groupies will do the job." you replied instantly in a stern tone.

"-it's well payed."

Now, that was interesting.

Before you realized it, you were already signing a one month contract with Ellie. The job was easy, or so you thought, you just had to stand however she wanted, and not even for a long time. The sessions Ellie programmed did not last more than an hour. Most of them required you to be either naked or partially naked, but you didn't mind. You and Ellie were both girls, after all, where was the harm. Plus, the pay was enough to cover twice your monthly expenses. You could have quit your job at the pub right now, but since your modeling contract was only temporary, you'd better keep working at the Tipsy Bison.

The day of your first session approached. After college, you took the bus to the town's bougie neighborhood.

Ellie's studio was quite large. She led you to the back. A sofa covered with flowers was waiting for you.

She looked at you up and down, a focused look on her face.

"Okay, sweetie. Could you remove your clothing for me, please? You can stay in your underwear for today."

There was something so attractive in the way Ellie was asking you to undress. You knew it was strictly professional, but you couldn't stop your mind from going to forbidden places, as you tossed your accessories, jeans and top in the changing wardrobe.

Ellie positioned your body on the sofa in silence. Her hands pulled your hips in the angle she wanted, her slender fingers encircling your thighs oh-so-gently, as if you were a porcelain doll she was scared to break. She carefully brushed her thumbs all over your form, her experienced eyes studying how the dim light casted shadows over your skin. You stayed silent. The way she was looking at your body with so much caution and admiration made your heart race. No one has ever looked at you this way, not even your past partners. Never in a million years you would have guessed that the cocky show-off Ellie you always knew could act so gentle.

"Are you comfortable?" her voice broke the silence.

You gave Ellie a shy nod.

"Good. Now, stay still for me." she whispered as she placed flowers into your hair, before pulling away, studying the final product with a satisfied smile.

Ellie walked up to the table in front of the sofa. There was a massive piece of clay. She poured water over her hands, before wedging the material. You couldn't take your eyes off her fists. The way she repeatidly pushed her middle and ring finger into the damp, earthy texture was hypnotizing. Soon enough, she started sculpting your silhouette into the clay. She made it seem almost easy, her hands captured into a furious dance with the slippery mess, her eyes drinking in the sight of you.

Thirty minutes later, Ellie rinced her hands, and stood up right in front of your form laid down on the sofa. She leaned down, letting her digits slide from your sides to your hips, loosing them into the folds and bumps of your skin. Her touch sent shivers down your spine, one of the flowers she had placed in your hair earlier falling down on the ground.

"I'm sorr-"

"Shh-shh. Relax, sweetheart." Ellie scooted closer to talk right into your ear, the scent of her invading your nostrils. "You're my artwork now, let me study you whole."

For the next fifteen minutes, she went back and forth from the clay to your skin, replicating every curve, every mount and valley your body offered to her insatiable eyes. You tried your best to remain calm and still, but it was sweet torture. Your breath was growing heavier, labouring as the artist's touch got hungrier. The more the clay was stiffening into precise shapes, the more you, on the other hand, were coming undone.

Ellie was perfectly aware of what she was doing. She loved feeling your thighs tremble under her digits each time she whispered praise and comfort into your ears. By the end, there was not a single inch of your skin she hadn't worshipped. Lost in limerence, she stopped coming back to her clay, and, soon enough, it felt like you were melting into a puddle of it. You let her fondle you to her liking, sculpting your body how she saw fit, she was the artist after all. The way she cupped your breasts over your bra, rocking her hips into yours, was nowhere near professional, but neither of you seemed to care anymore.

When the both of you gently pulled away, you were out of breath, panting heavily into eachother's necks.

"Fuck" Ellie let out in a needy sigh. "You're so gorgeous. I need you."

You reached out for her hands, sliding them on your lower back, under your panties.

"Then. Take. Me." you whispered into her ear.

Ellie's face flushed. She was surprisingly pleased at your bold moove.

"May I." she demanded as she squeezed your butt shamelessely, pushing her forehead onto yours.

The look her eyes gave you left no room for disagreement.

"You may."

You did not have to tell her twice.

She locked lips with you almost instantly, her tongue desperately exploring your mouth, as if she was afraid you'd disappear. You found yourself pinned down on the sofa, your breasts rolling up under hers. Ellie's nipples were so hard you could feel them from under her shirt.

But she stopped your arms from reaching out, pinning your wrists over the sofa with a grin.

"Tsk tsk. Let me take care of you, sweetheart."

You whined. It felt so unfair.

"Please, Ellie, god, I need to taste you."

Ellie hummed playfully.

"This is your punishment for trying to run away from me." She groaned each word as she left a trail of sloppy kisses all over your neck.

Before you could come up with a reply, Ellie's lips were back onto yours, reducing any further complaint into muffled moans. Her free hand was pushing down on the end of your stomach pouch, torturing your needy clit over your panties.

She pulled away from the kiss, taking in the sight of your quivering body under her. Her lips parted in adoration, waves of desire pooling into her core. She was so in love with every little twitch, every pleading gasp you gave her.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Her throaty voice birthed hoardes of butterflies in your stomach. "I'm gonna mold you into my best sculpture."

At her words, your panties slipped away. She held your thighs opened as you whimpered and trembled.

"Please.."

"Shhh. I got you, darling." Her voice grew huskier at the sight of your throbbing pussy. She carefully explored your wet folds, sucking your overflowing juices off her fingers with satisfied hums. "You're so perfect. You're the definition of fine arts itself."

You opened your mouth to reply, but your voice got caught into your throat as you felt her push one finger deep inside you, relentlessely curling and sliding into your gummy walls.

"You're doing so good, honey. So ready and perfect for me. Perfect fucking pussy."

Your head was spinning. Ellie hit every spot. She took her time, addicted to how pretty you looked and sounded while the two fingers she had used so many times to wet the clay in front of you were now wetting the sofa.

"Let's add some colour to the art work now, shall we." Ellie started relentlessly sucking onto your skin, leaving red and purple marks all over your aching body. As her mouth traveled down from your neck to your thighs, she kept pounding her fingers into you. The whimpers you made paired with the sounds of wet skin hitting against one another were euphonious, she felt like she was on cloud nine. When her lips reached your wet folds, she sucked onto your puffy clit as if her life depended on it.

"C'mon, baby. Come for me. Give in. Surrender yourself to me." she muttered in a low, sultry voice at each pump she was taking from the absolute feast you were giving her.

You climaxed so hard you felt like you saw the stars, black dots blurring your vision as your back arched over the sofa, flowers falling down everywhere.

Before getting back up, Ellie cleaned up your juices with her tongue alone, kissing you all over. "You did such a good job, sweetheart. You moan so beautifully."

The only sound you managed to make as a reply was a shaky whimper.

As you were catching your breath, your knees wobbly from the sensations, you heard the frantic sounds of her pencil madly forcing itself on her sketchbook. When you turned your head, you saw Ellie desperately capturing your curves over the paper, her eyes fixed on your trembling form, as if she was stuck in a trance.

You chuckled to yourself. This month was going to be full of surprises, for sure.

To be continued...

[masterlist]

if you made it to here, thank you so much for reading :) this is my first fanfic, and I apologize if I made some typos or if my grammar felt weird at some point, english isn't my first language.

feel free to give me suggestions of what I could write next. If they inspire me, I may or may not execute your fantasy, or at least, it could give me ideas. Just expect to wait for a very, very long period, I'm not good at being consistent, and I love taking my sweet time.

I'm a TLOU fan, I am so in love with every single female character in there. I would totally appreciate it if someone had wlw requests about more secondary, underrated characters such as Dina, Nora, heck even Tess or Maria, I love them all. Abby holds a special place in my heart too of course, but she isn't secondary at all - and probably one of the best female protagonists in my opinion.

#ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #smut #wlw #lesbian #ellie smut #gentle domination

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damagdsnow · 7 months

Text

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked.

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that?

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him.

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn.

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall.

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams.

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders.

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!”

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened?

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying.

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile.

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him.

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

Tag list: @daenerysqueenofhearts @snowsgames @secretsicanthideanymore @serving-targaryen-realness @rareheartsclub @metalarmsandmanbuns @jzr201 @xoxohannahlee @blueberrymuffinmouse @icedcoffee-please @xybilipid-post-blog @phoward89 @katherine101 @gracieghost36955 @annavatar @ghostlyloversworld @coolcatyarb @xxrougefangxx @devils-blackrose @phoward89 @commanderfreethatdust @thepassionatereader @anjellaufeyson @xoxohannahlee

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #lucy gray baird #coriolanus smut #billy the kid x reader #young coriolanus snow #politician coriolanus snow

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

Text

Jungkook

𝕽𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | Teaser

Hang the sinner by his wings.

Tags/Warnings: Demon!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Modern fantasy AU, Angst, slow burn, mature themes, hurt and comfort, Tags vary for each chapter

Length: ~4k words per chapter

There is no taglist for this fic.

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He can't even get you to drink anything at all, but he has to if he wants even the slightest chance at getting that rogue demon out of you.

He tips the cup of water against your lips to aid in getting you to drink anything and replenish what your body so desperately needs during this time- but he knows, deep down, that you can't keep this fight up much longer than you already have. Your soul might be strong, but your body is already hitting its limits- muscles trembling from the force of the most recent attempt made to possess you.

"There you go.." he hums to you in gentle reassurance, unable to contain his affection for you even if you're incapable of returning any of it. He can't help the way his hand runs over your back to try and comfort you, even though he knows it means nothing to you.

You feel nothing for him but indifference. You don't even hate him.

Knowing what he does now, he's aware of the fact that this entire situation is partially, if not entirely, his own fault. When he saved you centuries ago, he also made you very much horribly attractive for houseless demons like the one currently attempting to use you as more than just a host, but even if he knew back then what he knows now, he would've still gone through with it.

He'd save you any chance he'd get. And maybe that's the sickest part of his whole curse.

The knife on the table is another way out for you, of course. A dead vessel is worth nothing to a demon of this kind, and maybe, it would let you rest for once as well- but he knows that even if held against the prospect of eternal punishment, Jungkook wouldn't ever be able to be the one to take your life. After all, he did what he did many lifetimes ago to save it, and not have it taken either way.

He didn't just buy you time.

He bought you the guarantee of a full life, with every reincarnation.

Jungkook helps you back into bed after letting you calm down for a little bit, before he opens the door to let your friend back inside. At the sight of him, you immediately begin to reach out and cry, and the sight alone has his heart in a chokehold.

Or whatever is left of it, in this case.

Your tears are salty in the open scars he has inside of him, but the fact that you can even shed them at all makes the sting feel a little less harsh. He can deal with this, as long as he knows you're getting the life you were almost denied. He can see you smile, and cry, and love-

Even if it's in the arms of someone else.

"She's a lost cause." Yoongi mumbles from a corner, watching Jungkook who closes the door behind him.

"She's not." Jungkook denies.

"You barely made any progress." The fellow demon shakes his head at him. "You're torturing her."

"I'm saving her." The younger demon denies. "Any progress is progress."

"And how long can you stand this, I wonder." The cat eyed man asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall behind him. "Let me-"

"No." Jungkook instantly denies. "You'll kill her."

"And maybe that's for the best, my friend." He offers in sympathy. "Why are you chasing after someone who cannot even love you?"

"Because if I don't,.." jungkook mumbles, turning to look at your closed door.

"...then everything I sacrificed has been for nothing."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 11 months

Text

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n: part ten! Surprise! Thought I would treat you all. 🤫🫨🫂

warning: kids, past trauma, blood, mention of puking, wounds, Illyrian camps, alcohol, smoking, nightmares.

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The wind blew behind the window. Steady tapping and hoots echoed through the empty house. Even the flame in the fireplace seemed to sway to the melody of the wind. You sat in one of the plush chairs. Feet tucked beneath you. A blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Yet it didn't seem to warm you. Nothing seemed to warm you these days. No matter what you did, you always felt a chilly sensation twirling deep within you.

Your eyes felt heavy. Sleep was another thing that did not come easy. You had tried, but the longest you had managed to stay put was an hour, and after that, you had been up, pacing the rooms. Worry ripping at your skin. You had hoped to see Azriel once you could manage to lift yourself from the bed, but he had done everything he could to avoid you. I don't want to accept it. Your voice echoed through your mind. If only you could take them back. Go back in time and scratch it all up. Explain it all to Azriel before asking him for time. Before saying that you simply couldn't do it now, it didn't mean that you didn't want it in the end. You did want him, but then, did he want you?

A sickness crept up your throat, and you stood quickly. Waiting for the nausea to subside. Home. You wanted to go home. The only issue was that you no longer knew where home was. Was it back in the sanctuary? At Cordelia's? With Azriel? A cold shiver ran down your back, your skin growling clammy. When you stated to Rhys that you wanted to be escorted to the sanctuary, he simply shook his head. "What do you mean, no? You can't deny me...", but the high lord only gave you a tight smile and said, "It's Azriel's order. You're to stay in the house of wind".

You had let out a huff, "I'm not a prisoner! And if he wants to order me around, he better grow a pair and do it himself". Rhys had only laughed at your words, tilting his head back in clear delight. He was enjoying this way too much, this smug ass. "You sure keep him humbled", the high lord snickered. But his delight soon faded, "You'll be safe in the house of wind, Y/N. We both know there are many more males..." You had turned to the high lord at such speed that you nearly gave yourself a whiplash. "That wants me dead. Then let them. Let's end this and move on", you said through gritted teeth. "I can't", Rhys said bluntly, "I couldn't back then and especially can't now when my brother's life is linked with yours".

Panic rose over your body. Your hands trembled as you moved to walk once more. You couldn't sit still. You couldn't. Taking in a sharp breath, you plunged within your heart, trying to find that barely flicking bond. Trying to tug. Trying to... Azriel, you called, your voice barely a whisper. Of course, you guessed it. You might have practically grown up between the iron walls, but you knew what mates were. Or you had suspected. But you had never allowed yourself the time and luxury to dream of such things. They would make one weak. And there was no kindness in...

The sound of footsteps made you whirl back. Eyes catching a glimpse of a tiny frame. Zofie peered through the corner, earless in her hand. The poor empath had been exhausted. With you and Axel in distress, she was barely managing to juggle the emotions everyone felt. From anger to heartbreak. Yet she stood through it all, unyielding. You opened your arms for the little girl without a second thought. After all, the two of them were all you had. Zofie's bare feet tapped against the wooden floor.

"Why are you up, little one?", you asked softly as she nuzzled deeper into your embrace. "Is Mr. Earless snoring again?", brushing her messy raven hair, you smiled down at her. Zofie only shook her head, "Do your hands hurt?", she asked you instead, cutting the chase. Wanting to know the source of your discomfort. "No, Zo, nothing hurts. I'm just not tired, baby", you hoped your lies struck the truth for her, but the girl only tilted her head to the side. Eyeing up the dark bags beneath your eyes. The grayish tint your skin had gained. "Is it your back?", the girl asked, her eyes big as she looked at you. Her question stole the breath from your lungs, but you quickly shook your head.

"I promise, you don't have to worry", you said, cupping her cheek. Zofie bit her lip, her eyes darting towards the window. "I miss Azriel", she admitted finally. She had been the one who had taken the spymaster's absence the hardest. Or more like the one who showed her emotions openly regarding that. You knew that Axel also missed Azriel. The boy had scrubbed drawings of him but hidden them beneath his bed so no one would see them. You caught glimpses of him trying to train throughout the day. Then frustration would strike when he would lose his balance and Azriel wasn't there to catch him or correct his movements. Angry tears followed suit. Come back; you would call in moments like that; come back for them at least, please. But it was the same unbreakable wall you hit all the time. Icy yet thick with shrouded thorns.

"He doesn't like us anymore, doesn't he? If it's because of what Ax said,", the girl rambled on, her eyes building up with tears. You asshole, you banged your fists against the cold wall Azriel had built between the two of you, I hope you're seeing this. But you bit through the anger. Because you couldn't. You could hurt yourself. You can suffocate, but not them. Not the kids. "Listen to me; what I said that day, I said because I was upset", you cupped her already crimson cheeks. "Azriel loves you two; he's just...", Your words trailed off, "He's away on a mission, hence why he hasn't been here for a while. But he will come see you both when he returns". The hope that bloomed in Zofie's golden eyes made you want to let out a sob. She held onto your hands. "Will he actually?", you nodded your head without hesitation. You'd find a way to make him see them at least one last time. You would find a way. "Good", Zofie nodded quickly, "Axel has written him an apology letter, and I drew him a picture. He'll have to read it". Her innocent voice was so full of hope that it made your eyes sting.

Azriel could barely see through the cloud of smoke he puffed out. He was not the one to use stimulants like that. The state of intoxication always left him uneasy. His sharp senses dulled out. And Azriel held himself to high standards. He always needed to be in shape and prepared to act and make decisions. But the past week had been nothing but a mercy cloud of whatever herbs he had snatched from a local dealer. The longing and pull were so strong that the spymaster was ready to do everything to keep you off his mind.

But he failed. Failed at late night hours the most. During the day, he felt you struggling on the other side, kicking at his mental shields and scraping your nails at them. So he knew you were well if you had the energy for all that. It's at night when it all halted that all the lingering fears slip into Azriel's head. What ifs swirling around. And when he no longer managed to grasp you on the other side, he would winnow. Winnow to the house of wind. He would walk through the quiet house until he was right in front of your slumbering figure.

Most nights, he watched you and the kids like that. One of you would stir, and he would turn into nothing more than a shadow. There were nights when Azriel dared to brush his fingers over your forehead or run his hand over one of the kids' backs soothingly. Azriel hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with their distress. But it lingered all over. Zofie's tiny body seemed even smaller, and that alone ripped out a chunk of the spymaster's heart.

"Maker", Azriel's head jerked up to the sound of an empty bottle rolling across the floor. A handful of curses followed suit. "Ah, that's a handful more than when we checked last time", Cassian's voice ran through the hallway. "He's alive", the lord of bloodshed cheered, clapping his hands, but he only earned a huff from his high lord, "Shut it, Cass". Azriel knew that he should go and greet them. That was part of the Nothing Bad Is Going On Act, scene three. But he couldn't be bothered tonight. Not after he heard you sobbing through the bond. Crying till you turned to heave. His blood was burning from the neglect. Everything in his body screamed for him to go, but he stayed lying on a messy mattress. He had never bothered to buy a bed frame. He never cared.

"You are unbelievable", an old shirt flicked onto Azriel's chest. He didn't need to move to feel Rhys's angry gaze. "Get your ass up; we're going to train", the high lord ordered, nudging Azriel's leg with his foot. It was almost funny how not long ago they all grumbled about Nesta's living condition. Alcohol consumption. And here he was. The spymaster of the night court. Azriel draped an arm over his tired eyes. "I told you to come here only when it was necessary", the shadowsinger muttered. Hoping to usher these busybodies away.

"It is important", Rhys shuffled behind, no doubt picking up the empty bottles. "You are wasting away", Rhys had gone easy on Azriel with work. It almost felt like a full-circle moment. Azriel couldn't help but remember how Rhys had wept after he realized that Feyre was his mate and the girl had gone back with Tamlin. "Come on, Az, this is insane", even Cassian's voice held a thread of worry, but Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care. He had been selfish once again. So what was the reason?

"How is she?", the words slipped past Azriel's lips before he even realized it. No matter what he did, you were always on his mind. No matter what he did, getting rid of your presence in his senses seemed impossible. "I have an insane suggestion for you", Cassian answered, no doubt getting fed up. "You will be shocked when I'll tell you ", Cassian kneeled next to his brother, poking at his side before saying, "How about you go check yourself?"

Azriel only rolled his eyes. Everyone was urging him to speak. Even his mother had scolded him. "You'll grow to regret this, boy", she said, pointing a warning finger at him and shaking her head. But you said it yourself—I don't want to accept it. And for the third time in his life, Azriel was left to be a fool. Mor. Elain. Now his mate. One he had dreamed for as long as he remembered.

Azriel shook his head as he moved to sit up. Head pounding from the alcohol and the lack of sleep, "She doesn't want to do anything with me", those words stung because you had been barging into his mind without a break. "You don't know that", Rhys said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at Azriel. "Did you let her explain herself, or did you tuck your tail beneath your legs and run?", the high lord huffed. Azriel shot him an angry look. "Fuck you", the spymaster barked. Rhys only nodded, "Mature, get your ass up". But Azriel stayed seated. Trying to win the staring contest. "You gave up on them real quick", but Cassian didn't get to finish because Azriel had his hand on his brother's neck. The lord of bloodshed pressed against the nearest wall. "I. Did. Not. Give. Up. On. Them", Azriel snared each and every word through gritted teeth. His hand jabbed against the middle of Cass's neck. He's been feeling so on edge. So in need to punch something. He had shattered the mirror in his bathroom but it did little to soothe his frustration. Cassian didn't back away as he snarled back, pushing against his brother, "Then go to her; she's practically walked holes in the floor up there". Azriel pulled back. He turned away from him to brush his fingers through his hair. He needed a distraction. Something. Anything to keep his mind off this.

"Do you have the reports from the camp?", he turned to Rhys. Cassian pulled at Azriel's arm, "Don't change the topic, ass". But Spymaster ignored him, his eyes on Rhys. "Do you?", he repeated the question. "I do", Rhys said calmly, not a single trace of emotion on his face. "Give them to me", Azriel extended his palm towards Rhys, who only looked down at it, not amused. "No", the high lord said simply, "It involves information that's... sensitive". Azriel let out a huffed laugh, "Bullshit". He stepped closer to the high lord, who simply raised his palm, silencing the male, "Azriel, enough". Azriel gritted his teeth in return, "You can walk yourself out", he barked out, turning from the two males as he reached for another bottle.

You were braiding Zofie's hair when a dark swirl appeared in the living room. Your breath hitched. Hope blooming in your stomach. But it all fizzled out as quickly as it sprouted. It was Rhsy, Feyre right next to him. The kids instantly stood up, bowing. You couldn't help but smile. The two had been mesmerized by the high lord and lady. To Axel Rhys was still a floating head, but since the high lord didn't seem to mind the constant reminder of that, the boy continued to wave that card around.

"To what do we own the pleasure", You stood as well, smiling at the two. You looked like a rag doll that's been dragged through dirt compared to their neatly pressed clothes. "You all should come to have dinner with us", Rhys said calmly, that cat-like smile on his lips. Feyre nodded to her mate's words, "Staying stuffed in here doesn't help. I'm sure"; you knew that the high lady had spent her fair share of days here herself. "The paintings keep me entertained", you gestured to the painted furniture and the colorful walls. A laugh slipped past her lips as she too looked around.

"You can take the kids. It'll be nice for them to see Nyx", you ruffled Axel's hair, and the boy instantly stepped forward, reaching for the high lady. Zofie followed suit. But it was Rhys who wasn't too pleased with that decision. At least not fully. "I don't want to leave you here alone", the male stated, his eyes darker than moments ago. "I'll be fine", you said, smiling at him, but he didn't return the gesture. "Rhys, I'll be fine", you stated once again, not failing to catch a glimpse of worry that flashed across his face. Worry that seeped into your bones, "What is it? Did something happen to Azriel? The high lord shook his head quickly. "No, no", he reassured you, "I just revisited the day I brought you to the sanctuary". You reached to clasp his hand, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through you, "Don't think about it. It's not worth it".

You felt as if you were on fire but also freezing at the same time. Your back felt sore; you didn't remember the mattress feeling so hard. You moved your finger over the surface, halting when you didn't feel the plush material beneath you. Solid, cold ground met the tips of your fingers. You sat up quickly. No. No. No. There was no way. The breeze flew past you. The only comfort left for you. The camp buzzed around you. People were walking past. A lady let go of her daughter, the girl rushing to thread a wildflower through the bars. No. You crawled toward her. Hands reaching for the iron polls. "Please", you breathed. "Tell them", but the girl only laughed as she hurried away. You pushed your hand through the gap, trying to wave her over again. Wave anyone over. But no one stopped. No one listened. No one answered.

You jolted up. Cold sweat dripping down your body. You quickly pushed the blanket off. You must have fallen asleep while waiting for Rhys to bring the kids back. You reached for the wood, throwing a couple of logs into the fire. The floor creaked behind you, making you jump. Hiss fell from your lips when the back of your leg met the flame blazing behind you. You leaped forward, hissing, hand-moving to run down the sore spot. And then it echoed again. The same noise. The same footsteps as that night. A glass hit the ground. You jumped forward without a single thought. Yanking the door open, bare feet sinking into the fresh snow as you ran.

Azriel's eyes shot open. He wasn't in deep sleep; he was sure of it. The sleep he had managed to slip into was simply gray. Dreamless. There was no sound. Nothing seemed off. Until an ache ran through him. His feet grew cold. A shiver. Azriel sat up. His senses perked up. Something was wrong. But none of his shadows posted at the watch spots had been triggered. And then the same images of the ever-recurring nightmare flashed through his eyes. The snow. The river. Arrows. The delicate white turned a deep shade of red. And then, as if all at once, your panic hit his chest. Making him growl. "Y/N", he muttered. "Find her", Azriel roared, shadows leaping into the night as the spymaster stood, broad shadows filling the space as he too winnowed.

You had no idea where you were running. You knew that the only way down the mountain was a handful of stairs, but you couldn't find them. They were snowed in. Had to be. The wind blew right through you. The silk nightgown did nothing to protect your skin. But you didn't care; you had to get away. You would never go back. They would never... Your foot slipped. Your body weight shifted as you tumbled to the ground. Sliding down the side of the peak. Nails digging into the frozen ground, hoping to catch onto something, anything.

You hit the ground with a thud, the snow breaking the fall slightly. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, but the voice inside your head urged you to get going. You turned to get up, reaching for a branch, only to feel it snap beneath your weight. A frustrated cry slipped past your lips. The snowstorm was picking up. A dark shadow flew over your head. "No", you muttered, hurrying to pick yourself up, darting towards the dead trees, trying to leap between them. Branches caught onto the thin material, ripping slits into it, scratching your skin. You had to get away. If you could just make it down the hill, someone would...

A hand gripped your shoulder, and you let out a scream, trying to duck away. But the grip didn't ease. You trashed in their grip with all that you had. "Y/N", a voice roared. "No", you said, trying to claw your way out. "Y/N", it called once more, "Love." Darkness swallowed you as two huge wings spread over your body. Your eyes followed the curve of it.

"Look at me, hey", a warm palm touched your cheek, making you blink a couple of times. Azriel stood right in front of you. Eyes filled with worry. "What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?", he huffed, looking down at your scratched-up body. But you didn't care; you couldn't... Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, shaking. Azriel didn't miss a beat, his arms wrapping around your delicate frame. Hissing at the coldness of your skin.

"You're barefoot; Mother strike me", he huffed, dipping to pull you up into his arms. "We can't go", you said, shaking your head, making Azriel frown. "We can't; there's someone. They are in the house", the spymaster only watched you. Purple lips. Teary eyes. Bloody fingers. "No one can get into the house beside us, love", Azriel muttered, watching your terrified eyes. How was he able to walk away? Leave you like this... After it all... The spymaster gritted his teeth. "Let's get you warmed up", he muttered, shooting up into the sky.

You stayed by the same fireplace, feet dunked in a warm water bath made by Azriel. He was walking through the house, checking every single door and every window. Right now, you couldn't tell him what was part of your dream and what happened actually. Everything you heard and felt mushy, mixed up together, but Azriel didn't press.

"Nothing seems broken. It's probably just the wind", he muttered, handing you a cup of tea. Oh, how the tables had turned. "You need to get out of the damp clothes", Azriel said bluntly. "It's fine", you muttered, not lifting your eyes up. "You're in a bloody silk nightgown that's drenched", his voice picked up. Whatever you still had on your body, left very little to the imagination. The swell of your breasts was visible through the damp material clinging to your skin, and the slit, a tree so gracefully granted you, finished right over your hip.

"Azriel", you breathed, closing your eyes. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now. "Where are the kids?", Azriel muttered, no doubt having looked for them in the rooms. "At Rhys's. I thought seeing Nyx would cheer them up", you breathed out, setting the cup of tea down. The mug felt scorching hot in your frozen palms. "They miss you", you added after a moment, finally daring to look up. Only to be met with that same mask of coldness. Unapproachable mountain. "I don't think so", he huffed, even if deep down he knew that he was wrong. It was easier to stay away if he kept telling himself that. "You're petty over something a scared child told you?", you shook your head, huffing. "Something YOU told them", Azriel stepped closer, pointing a finger at you. Watching as a flash of guilt ripped through you. Hating the way you lowered your gaze instantly.

"Have you seen her", it was petty to ask. If he wanted, he could. You had grown jealous of her in the past week. Of how she had Azriel in ways you hadn't. "What if I have?", Azriel's words made a shiver run down your back. An angry tear slipped down your cheek. Azriel's face fell at the sight of that, his anger and frustration fizzing out as he turned to kneel in front of you. "I haven't. I swear I haven't. I didn't... I didn't even think of her once", he said in one breath. He was desperate now to chase the ache that bloomed in his chest.

"Do you see why I don't want it now? Don't want it like this?", you breathed out. "You're not over her, and I'm not here", you said, shaking your head. "Elain chose Lucien; they are mated", Azriel said firmly. "It didn't stop you last time", you muttered, turning away from him. "They are happy, she settled. Y/N, they walked in there after fucking", he exclaimed. Frustration dripping off him. "And the only woman I want to bend over and...", he halted, his chest raising up and down frantically.

"I know how it goes. The frenzy and all", you rubbed your palms together, "I'm not ready for that". Your voice sounded so small, and it ripped at Azriel. He moved to hook a finger beneath your chin. "Do you think I would do anything against your will?", "I didn't want you to leave, but you did", a shiver ran down Azriel's back. Not only did he leave, he didn't answer your calls for a week. Too deep in self-pity. "I'm sorry", Azriel muttered, closing his eyes and dipping his head. "I just...", he muttered, "My whole life, I've been waiting for you, and the thought of you rejoicing me... it blinded me".

You watched him for a moment—a male so big, looking so small—in front of you. You leaned closer to him, cupping his cheek. Tugging on the bond slightly. Making the sides of Azriel's lips curve up. "I want you... just...", you swallowed thickly, the images of your nightmare swirling at the tip of your tongue, "Be patient with me".

"I'm sorry for how I reacted", Azriel said, moving to thread his fingers through your hair, "There's no rush. I told you, I'll wait, and I will". You leaned closer to him, resting your forehead against his. Breathing him in. "But you do need to change because I'm only a man", he huffed, making you let out a laugh. "Is this too seductive for you, sir?", you purred, making Azriel growl. "You will be a death for me, sweet", his hand gripped your hips just how he liked it, slippery silk bunching up in his palms.

His lips brushed just over yours before he pulled away. "Can I kiss you?", Azriel muttered, inches away from you. You tilted your head back slightly, suddenly feeling giddy. "A bit late to ask that, no?" Azriel shook his head, his palm nestling in the crook of your neck as he pulled you closer. "Yes or no?", lustful need swirled in his golden orbs, but he waited for your answer regardless. "Why don't you try and find out", you hummed, unraveling the last bits of Azriel's self-control.

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