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#look how far our boys have come
lajulie24 · 11 months
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Don’t mind me, just watching GIFs of Luke throwing away his lightsaber in ROTJ and reclaiming himself as a Jedi “like my father before me” and thinking about all the things that led him there and all the people who contributed to Luke making that decision. Yes, that decision was incredibly personal and speaks to how Luke has grown throughout the OT, and at the same time Luke himself would likely acknowledge that moment wouldn’t have been possible without everyone who has been a part of his life, who helped him get there. Some of whom he never even knew.
It’s a victory for Padmé Amidala Naberrie, whom Luke never knew but who managed to outmatch Sheev Palpatine so many times through her life, in part by refusing to play his game, which is exactly what Luke did here. Palpatine claims Luke’s faith in his friends is his weakness, but both he and his mother knew that it was a strength. Padmé’s friends (particularly Bail and Obi-Wan) are the reason the twins survived at all, the reason Luke had a sister and friend in Leia to lean on during his journey, the reason Obi-Wan survived long enough to watch over him and introduce him to the Force.
It’s a victory for Shmi Skywalker, whom Luke never knew but who influenced her stepson Owen Lars and her daughter-in-law Beru Whitesun Lars, who in turn helped Luke grow into the person he was. Yes, Anakin turned in part because he feared to lose Padmé the way he’d lost Shmi, just like Luke came close to turning when Vader threatened Leia, but I have to think that part of the reason Luke was able to stop was that he had that foundation of love and stability Owen and Beru had nurtured that made Luke remember who he was.
It’s a victory for the Jedi, whom Palpatine had manipulated and twisted and exhausted through the Clone Wars until by the time they faced genocide at Order 66 they were already a shadow of what they could have been. Luke reclaiming what it means to be a Jedi — and again, refusing to be defined by the structures and traps Palpatine had constructed for his father and for the other Jedi — would not have been possible without Luke being introduced to the Force by Obi-Wan, taught in the Force by Yoda, AND remembering himself through his bonds with other people. The fact that these Jedi who had survived a horrific genocide could still offer that connection, that hope, says that Sheev had not succeeded eliminating their light. Just like Sheev had not succeeded in eliminating the light in Anakin.
It’s a victory for all the beings with whom Luke was connected, because Luke had learned the thing his father struggled so hard to do: he learned to love, to trust, and to let go. At this moment, there was no guarantee Luke was getting out of there alive. In fact, a second later he’s being electrocuted by Palpatine and probably going to die. But like Luke said, Palpatine has already lost. Luke won’t turn to the Dark Side. He’ll keep trusting his friends, and trusting in the light. And everyone who has connected with Luke—Leia, Han, Chewie, Lando, his friends in the Rebellion, everyone — has been changed by that connection in a way that Palpatine can never take away. No matter who survives, that light in some form will survive.
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crabussy · 8 months
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I LOVE SELF MADE BOYS I LOVE SELF MADE GIRLS I LOVE BOYS WHO ARE GIRLS I LOVE GIRLS WHO ARE BOYS I LOVE THOSE OF US WHO ARE SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY I LOVE PEOPLE WHO ARE NEITHER BUT BORROW TRAITS FROM BOTH I LOVE THOSE WHO BORROW NOTHING AND ARE THEIR OWN DEFINITION OF THEMSELVES I LOVE TRANS PEOPLE WHO CHANGE THEMSELVES TO FIT WHO THEY NEED TO BECOME I LOVE TRANS PEOPLE WHO STAY HOW THEY WERE AND FEEL LIKE THEY ARE ALREADY THEMSELVES I LOVE THE SHAPES OF OUR BODIES I LOVE HOW OUR JOURNEYS CHANGE US PHYSICALLY I LOVE HOW WE GROW INTO OURSELVES I LOVE HOW WE HAVE CREATED OURSELVES THROUGH LIVING AND LOVING TO LIVE I LOVE HOW WE HAVE CREATED OURSELVES THROUGH THE DESPERATION OF WANTING TO LOVE LIVING I LOVE TRANS PEOPLE WHO LOVE TRANS PEOPLE I LOVE US I LOVE ME AND I LOVE YOU
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strawhatboy · 1 year
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When you're on the sea, you fight pirates! | happy birthday margaux @gizaoyas
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hum--hallelujah · 5 months
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THRILLER 8 BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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atu-and-zuni · 1 year
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i aint been poasting a lot but heres som Atul’haka sketches (and a bonus Ivan) for yall -w-. first two are a bit older, last two are more recent. 
hes gotten fluffier and acquired a tiny husband since yall’ve last seen him. currently during Dragonflight they're having a grand ol time hiking thru the isles and going “yall hear sumthin?” whenever any of that weird primalist junk starts happening. having a blast rock climbin n campin n huntin and are gunna get married about it pretty soon but shhh they dont know that yet :>
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chxxms · 7 months
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🙄
(small rant)
#looool not my dad going on a homophobic rant so randomly yesterday night…. he was talking to my lil brother on how to act properly when he#goes to uni saying to be careful and look after your drink cause people be spiking then he was explaining how some boy in uni got his drink#spiked by someone (maybe his friends) and apparently he got m*lested then my dad went on his homophobic rant cause apparently was men who#done it???? but why u bringing up gay people when a man got m*lested?? that doesn’t make sense like how far did u have to reach?? anyways i#clapped back at him and said that those two doors not correlate with each other and people can love who they want to love it isn’t your#business. but anyways yeah he realised showed himself to be a homophobic ass loser my mum wanted to hype up and defend him like gurl you#know damn well that i got to gay pride events and i know you’re just talking cause u wanna impress him (loser ass pick me) but yeah my#parents will never have that access to me when it comes to who i’m dating romantically because of the face i’m a lesbian they will never#know they hardly know who i am anyways ESPECIALLY MY DAD loser ass#like how embarrassing is it you’re a hating ads loser allowing that colonising christianity to hate on innocent people trying to live their#life like your high blood pressure is raising up for no reason other than your pressed#like how do you understand racism so damn well but you cannot put 1 + 1 together and see that christianity has done a number on us and our#igbo culture africian queer people have always existed it was not a western 🙄 thing ffs
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carryonmylovelies · 1 year
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omg hey hotties 😭😭 im back !
#sooooooooooooo anyways not me dropping off the face of the earth for like the entire summer vwkqmqjdhsowjwjwjenkwhwk#just had to die for a little bit u know....disappear into the abyss and all that#pls look away from all the shit im abt to throw into these tags 😁 unless u want 2 read my cringe oversharing essay for the day 👍#my summer was so silly 😍 ummmmm lets see i lost my fulltime job at the daycare bc the owner very rightfully decided to retire and close#so i was unemployed for the whole summer except for my occasional side jobs and also had to move bc of family shit#so im living w my grandma for the time being and its utterly amazing tbh my grandma and i have a really strong bond and relationship#and i really love getting to come home and see her every day. i decorated her house for halloween a week ago 🎃🎃🎃#and she couldnt stop talking abt how nice everything looked and how glad she was to have me there and i just abt broke down 😭😭😭#i did a complete fucking 180 jobwise im actually training to be a certified fire alarm inspector now LMFAO#i really really like it so far and have like a million stories already abt all the shit ive done/seen so far#im the only girl looking son of a bitch thats working and training in the field out of my entire region of the company so 🤪#literally shoved my dykey nb ass in there and now im fucking it up with the boys heyoooooo#ummm me and one of my best friends started dating bc of a miscommunication (BC OFC WE DID I KNOW I KNOW ITS SO MF GAY)#and our 4 mo anniversary will be on halloween which i think is the swaggiest fag shit in the whole WORLLLDDDDDDDD 😫🎃🖤🧡#my very beloved pet rabbit of over 8 years died quite unexpectedly in august and i was. doing pretty bad for awhile which sucked so so hard#he had multiple health issues and was over 10 yrs old so its hard to say what exactly happened. my gf and gma both pulled me thru that shit#and my besties gave me so much support and love idek what i would have done w/o them. i miss my baby so bad.#ive also had some health issues which sucks absolute BALLS#and recently figured out that the migraine/anti depressant meds ive been on for the last THREE MF YEARS have been fucking up my body lmao#but on the flipside going back 2 the positives i got to have some really incredible experiences/interactions in the past few months#and those were really huge in helping me get my shit together again#i got to take my girlboygirlfriend on little daytrips throughout the summer. i got a second tat🕷🕸❣️ (which my gf designed 😫)#i met girl queen pussy slay miss felicia day AND met the sexiest creature alive harvey guillen and he told me he liked my hair#which im still super duper normal over i can assure u 😁👍 definitely didnt alter my brain chemistry or anything#i saw gods greatest and most valuable gift to this planet on monday (mcr concert)#and had my entire mind body heart and soul so thouroughly fucked up that im still peeing my goddamn pants over it#and of course now its october :) my rotting flesh and sickened brain knows peace once more#bouta go eat up some drawtober posts right the fuck now so prepare yourselves 👁👁 also gonna be making a post on the coc blog soon as well#its already that time of year again mwhahahahahahahahahaha#so yeah 😋 my summer was goofy and silly as hell. i hope u all have been doing okay and im so happy 2 be back pls hmu if u wanna chat !!!
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kingkonoha · 6 months
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“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”
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Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡
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Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.
The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.
As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.
Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.
“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”
“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.
“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”
“There’s a ring on your finger.”
Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”
“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”
“I am.”
“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.
“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”
“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”
Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.
“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”
“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.
“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.
“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”
“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”
“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.
After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.
“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”
“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”
“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.
“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”
Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.
“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”
“Okay, we-”
“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.
While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.
Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.
He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.
He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.
He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.
And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.
But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.
And he felt loved.
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— PART III —
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gojonanami · 3 months
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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞
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❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞
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✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader
✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance
✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!
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“So, is this your first time?”
Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 
One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 
You didn’t care to make it a third. 
The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 
You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 
And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 
The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 
“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 
His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 
You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 
His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”
“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 
“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 
“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 
And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 
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And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 
So. Many. Sweets.
Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 
“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 
“Yeah?” 
“Do you have any food?” 
“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 
Oh yeah, he’s rich. 
You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 
He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 
“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 
“Where are we going?” 
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“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 
“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 
“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 
“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 
He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 
“Did you eat like this before college?” 
He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 
You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 
“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 
“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 
He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 
“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 
The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 
“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 
And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 
“We’re not—” 
“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 
“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 
And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 
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“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 
“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 
“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 
“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 
And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 
“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 
“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 
“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 
“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 
“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 
You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 
“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 
He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”
“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 
“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 
“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 
And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 
You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 
His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 
“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 
He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 
“Get back to work.” 
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“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 
He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 
Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 
So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 
Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 
Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 
Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 
“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 
It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —
“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 
“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 
And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 
“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 
“With you? It is.” 
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“A party?” 
“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 
“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 
“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 
“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 
“Against my father—” 
“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 
The answer was yes, of course. 
And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 
It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 
You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 
“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 
You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 
A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”
“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 
“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 
Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 
You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 
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If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 
It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?
He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 
He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 
Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 
You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 
The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 
Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 
What the fuck was he thinking? 
His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 
First world problems, right? 
But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 
And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 
“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 
“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 
He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 
“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 
And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 
Fuck it. 
He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 
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“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 
You whip your head around. 
“Oh what the—“ 
Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 
Fuck. 
You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 
But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 
You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 
Until you finally reached his side. 
“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.
“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 
“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 
“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 
“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 
Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 
“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 
“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 
“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 
You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 
Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 
But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 
That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 
“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 
“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 
“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 
You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 
“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 
He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 
“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 
“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 
“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 
Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 
“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 
“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 
“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 
You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 
“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 
“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 
You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 
“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 
And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 
“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 
And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up
(and he did, twice). 
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“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 
“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 
“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.
“Give me my fucking phone—“ 
“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 
“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 
“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 
“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 
Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 
“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 
Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 
“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 
“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 
He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 
“What did you even say?” 
“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 
And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 
“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 
“HUH?” 
“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 
“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 
“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 
“Where?” 
You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 
You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 
And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”
You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 
“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 
You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 
And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 
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“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 
It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 
But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 
His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 
“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 
The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 
But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 
He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 
You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 
“Because I am,” you scoff. 
“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 
“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 
He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 
“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 
“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 
“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 
“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 
“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 
And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 
And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 
And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 
“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 
“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 
You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 
“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 
You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 
“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 
“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 
“So you were jealous,” 
“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 
“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 
“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 
“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 
“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 
“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 
“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 
“Satoru—“ 
“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 
You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 
“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 
You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”
“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 
“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 
You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 
“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 
“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 
You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 
“Is this one of them?” 
“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 
“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 
His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.
“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 
But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 
“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 
“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 
He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 
“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  
“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 
“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 
“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 
“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 
“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”
“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 
“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 
And you blink, “Really?” 
He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 
“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 
“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 
“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 
And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 
You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 
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“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.
“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 
“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  
He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 
“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 
“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 
He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 
“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 
“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 
He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 
And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 
“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 
“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 
The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“
And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 
“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 
“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 
“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 
“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 
You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 
“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 
“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 
“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 
“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 
“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 
And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 
“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 
“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 
You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 
And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 
And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 
And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 
“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 
“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 
“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 
And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 
You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 
“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.
You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 
You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 
“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 
“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 
And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 
His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 
“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 
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You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 
Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 
“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 
“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 
“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 
You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 
Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 
And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 
“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 
“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 
“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 
“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 
“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”
Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 
“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 
“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 
“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 
“No! I—“ 
“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 
You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 
“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 
“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 
“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 
“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 
“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 
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You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 
It was for the best. 
You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 
You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 
You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 
Would you ever rid your mind of him? 
And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  
“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 
“What?” 
“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 
“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 
“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 
“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 
And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 
You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 
It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 
You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 
Fuck. 
Those girls. 
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Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 
It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 
His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 
Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 
He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 
“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 
He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 
“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 
“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 
“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”
“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 
“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 
“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 
“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 
“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 
“I’m not wallowing—“ 
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 
And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 
He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 
And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 
And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 
His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 
And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 
Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 
“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”
He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 
“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 
It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 
“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 
He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”
“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 
“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 
“Do you ever shut up?” 
“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 
She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 
“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 
“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 
He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.
“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 
And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 
She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 
“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 
CRACK. 
He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 
“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 
“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 
“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 
“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 
“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 
“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 
You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 
“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 
“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 
He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 
You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 
“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 
“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 
“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 
You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 
And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 
For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 
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And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 
His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 
His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 
“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 
“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 
“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 
But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 
And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 
He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 
And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 
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“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 
“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 
Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 
You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 
“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 
“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 
“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 
“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 
“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 
“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 
“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 
“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 
“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 
“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 
“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 
“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 
“My one and only.” 
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✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T
✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,
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nothing will ever make you prouder of how far you've come than reading your bucket list from when you were 12/13 and deeply depressed and realising how many things you can check off on the list
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writingsbychlo · 3 months
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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
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Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
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Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 
Men did love a little attention, after all. 
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 
Until, Theo spoke up. 
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 
“Where are we going, Dray?” 
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!” 
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.” 
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.” 
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.” 
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
5K notes · View notes
caramelcal · 8 months
Note
Hi, I love your story!! I wanted to know if you can do a when theo is jealous and leave hickey to fem reader. If your not comfortable that’s fine thank you 🤭.
LOVEBITES AND POTIONS
word count: 1.4k
a/n: hiya lovely! thank you for sending a request<3
warnings: fem!reader, no house specified. jealous!theo. boyfriend!theo, playful allegations of cheating/going on dates with others. hickeys.
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"Hey, y/n!" A voice called out from behind you, halting you in your movements.
It was a Friday, and you had just left your last class of the day, ready to relax over the weekend with your boyfriend, Theo. That's where you were heading right now; to his dorm.
Well, until someone called out from you.
"I'm glad I caught up with you," The voice said as you turned around, eyes catching onto Zacharias, a Hufflepuff boy in your year, and your potions partner.
"Hi, Zacharias," You gave the boy a pleasant smile, trying to be as nice as possible. You held your books in your hands in front of your chest, looking at the boy who seemed a little out of breath.
"Hi, um-" He started, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes cast away from you for a second, "I wanted to talk to you about our potions project."
You looked at him with a small smile, urging him to go on as he took a deep breath. Tons of students bustled around the two of you, loud, excited to get off to their dorms or hang out with their friends, and although you wanted nothing more than to run to Theo's dorm, you were patient with the boy in front of you.
He seemed nervous.
"Well, I was thinking we could get a headstart on our project, maybe tomorrow in the library?" He proposed, his eyes looking pretty much everywhere but your face, "I mean, I really need a good grade on this project, and I know that you like to..."
Zacharias continued, but you zoned out a little as your eyes caught on to a particular group of Slytherin boys. They all joked about, pushing each other, and just acting generally boisterous. Not a single one of them wore their robes, all claiming to be far too cool for them, their ties loosened and white sleeves rolled up.
Your eyes caught onto the familiar tall figure of your boyfriend as he laughed, his blue eyes catching onto yours as you smiled, getting a smile in return. His friends all started to notice you too, riling Theodore up as boys do when they saw the look in his eyes.
"Y/n?" A hand gently brushed against your shoulder, drawing your attention back towards Zacharias, his eyebrows slightly drawn, and a slight redness in his cheeks.
"That sounds like a good idea, Zacharias," His face brightened a little, "but I can't do tomorrow, I have plans with my boyfriend, sorry."
"Oh."
"We can start on Sunday though? How does that sound?"
A small smile makes its way back onto Zacharias' lips as he nods, "Yeah, that sounds good."
Before you can respond, however, to work out times or anything, you hear a call from behind you, "Y/n! C'mon! We don't have all day!"
Your head whips around, hearing Draco shout after you to get you to hurry up, only to realise all of the Slytherin boys are staring at you, waiting for you to come with them. With a smile, you turn back around and say your goodbyes to Zacharias, before practically skipping over to the boys.
Your eyes don't move from the tall blue-eyed boy, your arms thrown over his shoulders as you reach up and peck him on the cheek. His eyes don't quite meet yours, focusing on something behind you as his hands snake possessively around your waist, a kiss being placed on your forehead.
Then, you're whisked away to the Slytherin common room, and soon enough, Theodore's dorm. The door shuts behind your boyfriend as you place your books down on his bedside table, and he wastes little time pulling your robe away from your neck and down your shoulders, slipping it off your body.
"I missed you," You spoke quietly as you turned around in your boyfriend's hold, your hands going over his shoulders and curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.
Your head is on his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne and cigarettes, eyes closing at the comfort it brings you.
Theo hummed in response, pulling back a little as he picked you up with ease, placing you down on his bed as he sat beside you, facing you.
His lips soon find yours, his hand sitting around the back of your neck, keeping your lips firmly on his as his thumb caresses your hair away from the side of your neck. His free hand pulls at your tie, then unbuttons the top two buttons of your shirt, moving the fabric to free the side of your neck.
Then, his lips latch onto your neck, near your jaw, and the second you feel him suck and his teeth lightly graze over the skin, you know exactly what he's trying to do.
"Theo, lower. Those marks are going to be visible above my uniform."
Yet, he doesn't stop. In fact, he seems even more eager to mark up the side of your neck when he hears those words tumble from your lips.
"Theo."
He pulled away a little, but you could still feel his soft breaths against the bare skin of your neck. You looked down at him with a quizzical look.
"Why are you doing it so high?"
He avoided the question, his hands pushing your hair back once more as his eyes cast back down to the skin of your neck, "You excited about your date with your little boyfriend?"
"I didn't realise we'd planned a date this weekend."
"I'm talking about your other boyfriend," He quipped back sarcastically, before his lips made contact with another spot on your neck, littering what you can guarantee are going to be countless dark bruises along your neck.
Your eyebrows furrow at this remark as you try to piece together what Theodore could possibly be talking about. What other plans did you even have?
"Are you talking about Zacharias? He's just helping me with our potions project," You informed your boyfriend, your hand coming up to grab at the strands of his soft hair once more.
"Tell him to leave it, I'm better at potions anyway. I'll help you," Theodore bargained, without his mouth moving away from your neck.
He wasn't wrong. Theodore was brilliant at potions, but regardless of that, it was your and Zacharias' project, not you and Theodore's.
"Wait," A subtle smirk came to your lips as you began to piece together what was happening, your hand pushing Theo away from your neck, "Are you jealous, Theo?"
You held him in such a way that he was unable to attach his lips to your neck to continue his attack, your head tilting a little as you waited for a response.
Theodore rolled his eyes in response, mumbling, "No."
"Are you sure?" You pouted a little, raising an eyebrow at the way his eyes were cast to the side, not looking you in the eyes. His hair was a little messed up, and a small pout had made its way to his lips, too. He crossed his arms over his chest, almost comically, as if he was a child in a huff.
"That puff has nothing on me," He mumbled cockily, making you laugh softly as you moved your hands from holding him back. Not skipping a beat, Theo latched his lips back onto your skin, on the opposite side now.
"Stop," You laughed a little, "Snape's going to have a heart attack if he sees these."
You had absolutely no doubt that these were going to be a pain in the ass to hide. Even with your hair down, it was going to be a real struggle. With how many Theodore had left too, you knew the chances of you being able to cover them with makeup was going to be difficult, too.
"Hope the puff does, too," Theodore mumbled almost childishly.
"Don't be jealous, Theo," You spoke softly, your hand coming up to play with his hair once more, your other hand rubbing his back, "You know I'm yours."
"You're right," Theodore responded, pulling away from the last hickey he made, then pressing a soft kiss against your neck, now littered with marks, then your jaw, then your lips. Finally pulling back, his blue eyes meet yours, a smile coming to his face as he surveys his work, then your face, "All mine."
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pucksandpower · 16 days
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Ours to Protect
Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen
Summary: life with your boys may be chaotic but, through all the ups and downs, you wouldn’t change it for the world
Warnings: depictions of injury, vague descriptions of pregnancy, and Jos Verstappen being Jos Verstappen
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You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd already audible even from the secure paddock parking area.
Your stomach flutters with nerves and excitement as you smooth down your outfit and head towards the paddock entrance. This is your first race of the season and the reporters and fans are always rabid at the start of a new year.
As you enter the paddock you glance around, looking for Charles or Max but neither are immediately visible in the organized chaos. You clutch your paddock pass, suddenly feeling self-conscious walking through alone.
The other drivers’ wives and girlfriends are already gathered in small groups, greeting each other with cheek kisses as they exchange pleasantries. A few give you sidelong glances as you walk by, no doubt wondering why you’re alone when the rest of them arrived together with their partners.
You keep your head high, ignoring the looks. Your relationship with Charles and Max has been going strong and so far you’ve kept it private, with only close friends and family aware that the three of you are together. The public and the media still think of you as just a friend and you aren’t sure how they would react if they knew the truth. The three of you have discussed going public but agreed it’s better to wait, wanting to enjoy your time together out of the spotlight for now.
Still, you wish Charles or Max were with you as a buffer from prying eyes. You check your phone but there are no new messages. They must both still be busy with their pre-race preparations. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards the Red Bull garage first, figuring you’ll find Max there.
As you approach, you spot a small crowd of reporters loitering near the garage entrance. They perk up as they see you coming, immediately descending upon you with microphones and cameras.
“Y/N! Over here!” One calls out. “Are you here to see Max?”
You stop short, feeling cornered as they form a semi-circle around you. “Um, yes, I’m just heading to the garage to say hi,” you say carefully.
“And what about Charles?” Another reporter asks, eyebrow raised suggestively. “Will you be visiting him in the Ferrari garage as well?”
You freeze, panic rising. Do they know about your relationship? You haven’t been seen together in public yet. “I-I’m friends with both Charles and Max,” you stammer.
“Just friends?” A third reporter chimes in skeptically. “Our sources say you’ve been getting very cozy with the two drivers lately. Care to comment on the rumors that you’re stringing them both along?”
You take a step back, heart pounding as their questions come rapid-fire.
“Are you cheating on one with the other?”
“How long do you think you can keep this charade going before they realize?”
“Doesn’t it bother you, playing with their feelings like this?”
Their accusations hit you like blows, your anxiety spiking as you find yourself backed up against a wall, cameras flashing in your face. This is your worst fear come to life. You look around desperately for an escape but find only unsympathetic faces staring back at you, judging you.
“I … I have to go,” you gasp out, ducking your head and pushing your way blindly through the crush of bodies. You can hear them calling out more questions but you block it out, focused only on getting away. You’re shaking and feel sick, tears pricking at your eyes.
Is this what it will be like if you ever go public? This is exactly why you wanted to keep it quiet.
Suddenly you collide with a solid chest. Strong hands grasp your shoulders and you look up with a start to see Max gazing down at you, concern creasing his brow.
“Whoa, schatje, what happened?” He asks. He glances over your shoulder at the reporters who have reluctantly backed off but are still hovering nearby. Max’s jaw tightens as he seems to grasp the situation.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say shakily, embarrassed by your reaction.
Max studies your face, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he says gently, keeping an arm wrapped securely around you as he guides you away from prying eyes.
Once you’re safely inside the Red Bull motorhome, Max steers you over to a quiet corner and helps you sit. Crouching down in front of you, he brushes a strand of hair back from your face. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You take a shuddering breath, willing yourself to calm down. “The reporters ambushed me outside. They started accusing me of stringing you and Charles along. I just panicked and had to get out of there.”
Max’s face darkens. “Those goddamn vultures. What the hell gives them the right ...” He cuts off his tirade with a sigh, taking your hands in his. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone. I should have been there with you.”
You give him a shaky smile. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Max kisses your forehead. “Let me go talk to Charlie so he knows what happened. I’ll be right back, okay?”
You nod gratefully. After Max leaves you take deep breaths, willing your racing heart to settle. You knew the secrecy couldn’t last forever but you weren’t prepared for the cruelty of those reporters. The idea of having to face that regularly if you go public makes you feel ill.
You’re lost in thought when another familiar voice says your name. Looking up you see Charles hurrying over, the same concerned look on his face that Max wore earlier. You stand and Charles immediately folds you into a tight hug.
“Are you alright, ma belle?” He murmurs. “Max told me what happened.”
You cling to him, taking comfort in his embrace. “I’m okay now. Just a bit shaken up.”
Charles’ jaw is tight as he pulls back to look at you. “I’m so sorry I was not there. I should have been with you.” His hand comes up to cup your cheek tenderly.
You cover his hand with your own. “You couldn’t have known. I’m the one who decided to come alone like an idiot.”
Charles starts to argue but you cut him off. “Let’s not play the blame game, okay? I just want to put it behind me.”
Charles presses his lips together but nods. “Of course. As long as you are alright.” He kisses your forehead sweetly. “I will not leave your side for the rest of the day, I promise.”
You give him a small but genuine smile. “Thank you.”
Just then Max returns. “How is she doing?” He asks Charles quietly.
“A bit better I think. Still shaken though.”
Max nods, his eyes stormy. “I warned the press to back the hell off but I doubt they’ll listen.”
Your heart sinks. The last thing you want is them continuing to hound you every race. You bite your lip. “Maybe … maybe we should just tell them the truth.”
Max and Charles exchange a surprised look. “Are you sure?” Charles asks cautiously. “We do not have to do anything until you are ready.”
You take a breath. “I’m not really. But I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder constantly either, you know? And I hate feeling like we have to hide.” You look between them. “I mean, only if you both are comfortable with it too. But maybe it’s time.”
Max considers you thoughtfully. “I’m ready when you are. I’m tired of sneaking around too. If this is what you want, I’m with you.” He glances at Charles who nods.
“Oui, I agree. I do not enjoy the secrecy either. I am ready to tell the world you are both mine.” Charles smiles and pulls you close again.
You let out a shaky laugh. “Well it’s definitely not going to be easy, but with you two by my side, I’m ready.” You take each of their hands, feeling emboldened.
Charles grins and kisses your cheek. “Then let’s do this.”
The three of you head out of the garage hand in hand. You hold your head high as you approach the still lingering reporters, flanked on either side by your boys. Their steady presence gives you courage.
The reporters perk up excitedly seeing the three of you together, shouting questions, but you ignore them. At an unspoken signal you all stop and turn to face the cameras head on.
Charles leans in and kisses you sweetly, then Max does the same, before kissing each other with you sandwiched firmly between them. You smile against their lips, the action speaking louder than any words. Then, without giving the reporters time to process what just happened, you continue walking down the paddock, leaving behind an audience with their jaws on the floor.
You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as their shocked reactions fade behind you. Let them talk. You have everything you need right here. Wrapping your arms around your boys, you head off to face the rest of the day, and your future, together.
No more hiding. The world knows now. And you’ve never felt more free.
***
The morning sun filters in through the curtains, stirring you awake. You stretch leisurely, reaching across both sides of the large bed only to find it empty. The faint clinking of dishes filters in from outside the room — your boys must be up already making breakfast.
Smiling sleepily, you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle towards the kitchen, eager for coffee. As you enter, you find Charles at the stove scrambling eggs while Max sets the table.
Charles glances up with a grin. “Bonjour, ma belle. Sleep well?”
You hum affirmatively, accepting the mug of coffee Max hands you with a quick peck on the lips. “What time is it?”
“Just after 9,” Max says. “We were going to let you sleep in but breakfast is ready.”
You sip your coffee, leaning back against the counter. “That’s okay. I wanted to go to the farmer’s market this morning anyway. Care to join me after we eat?”
“I wish I could, but I have a training session in an hour,” Charles says regretfully.
Max shakes his head too. “And I have a sponsor meeting.”
You pout playfully. “Fine, abandon me to go shopping alone.”
Charles chuckles. “We would never. But duty calls today unfortunately.” He plates the eggs with some toast and you all sit down to eat.
After breakfast, you quickly get ready while Max and Charles clean up. Emerging from the bedroom, you grab your purse and find them waiting to walk you out.
“Have fun at the market,” Max says, kissing your cheek. “Get some of those apricot tarts I like.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Only if you’re good.”
Charles hugs you tightly. “Be safe out there. Call if you need anything, yes?”
“I’ll be fine!” You assure him with a laugh. With a final wave, you head out the door and down to the lobby.
Stepping outside, you pause in confusion. A large crowd is gathered in front of your building. Fans, you realize. But how did they find your address?
Your heart sinks. Ever since going public, you’ve dealt with heightened interest and gossip. But this feels like a violation of privacy. Biting your lip uncertainly, you start trying to weave through the crowd towards the market down the block.
Immediately people press in excitedly around you. “It’s her!” You hear someone shout. Camera phones are suddenly in your face as people call out questions.
“How does being with the two of them work?”
“Be honest, do you prefer Max or Charles?”
You keep your head down, trying not to engage. Their invasive questions make your skin crawl. “Excuse me, please let me through,” you say as politely as you can.
But the crowd only seems to grow more aggressive, everyone shoving to get close and fire off more intrusive questions about your relationship. You feel hands grabbing at you and start to panic.
“Please, I need to get by,” you say, shrinking away from the grasping hands. But the crowd surges and someone shoves you hard from behind.
You cry out as you fall forward, directly into the path of an exuberant fan. Blinding pain explodes in your temple as her flailing elbow catches you across the face.
You hit the ground hard, vision graying out. Dazed, you try to curl into a protective ball as feet trample around you, completely oblivious.
“Stop, please!” You sob, blood dripping from your throbbing temple. But the crowd is a living entity now, crushing in on you. This is a nightmare.
Suddenly you hear a roar over the din. “GET BACK!”
The footsteps stutter to a halt as the authoritative voice bellows again. “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!”
Then Max is there, somehow muscling his way through the press of bodies to drop to his knees beside you. His face is thunderous as he quickly but gently gathers you into his arms.
“Fucking animals,” he spits, glaring venomously at the stunned crowd as you cling to him desperately. “I’ve got you, just hold on.”
Over Max’s shoulder you can see Charles forcibly holding the fans at bay, yelling expletives in a jumbled mess of three languages. The path clears as Max carries you swiftly back into your building.
Once inside the apartment, Max lays you gently on the couch, hands feather-light as he examines your injuries. His jaw clenches when he sees the gash bleeding heavily at your temple.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says tightly. “This needs stitches.”
You nod weakly, letting him press a towel to stanch the bleeding while Charles comes bursting in, swearing violently when he sees the blood.
“What the hell happened?” He demands, kneeling beside you. His touch is infinitely gentle though as he brushes hair from your face.
“Got mobbed by those goddamn stalkers outside,” Max growls. “One of them elbowed her in the head.”
Charles’ expression darkens dangerously. You’ve never seen him look so livid before.
“We’ll deal with them later,” Max says firmly. “Right now we need to get her to the emergency department.”
Charles nods, visibly reigning in his anger. “You’re right, of course.” He looks back at you, anger fading to concern. “Are you able to stand, chérie?”
You cry out as simply trying to sit up sends shooting pain through your head. Charles’ jaw ticks as he looks ready to rush back outside and fight the crowd himself, before he easily lifts you into his arms, Max holding the cloth to your cut as they carefully get you down to the garage.
The car ride passes in a haze of pain and you cling to Charles in the backseat while Max drives, exhaustion hitting you.
At the hospital, Max scoops you up, carrying you inside despite your mumbled protests that you can walk. He ignores you, striding right up to the intake desk.
“She needs help now,” he snaps. The no-nonsense tone of his voice has nurses springing into action immediately.
Before you know it, you’ve been whisked off for scans and then into an exam room. A kind faced doctor stitches up your wound carefully while Max and Charles hover protectively on either side.
“Any other injuries?” The doctor asks gently.
You shake your head. “Just some bruises I think.”
She pats your leg. “I’d still like to do a full workup, including a pregnancy test, before we proceed with any other treatment or medication.”
Your eyes widen. With everything going on, your period being late hadn’t even registered. But now that she mentions it ...
Charles and Max go still beside you. “Pregnancy test?” Charles asks tightly.
The doctor smiles reassuringly. “Standard procedure. I’m sure it’s just a precaution.”
Charles grabs your hand, tension radiating off him while you wait on the results. Max paces like a caged animal until the doctor returns. Her kind eyes immediately give it away.
The tests come back quickly and the doctor steps back in to review the results. “No signs of fracture or serious head injury, that’s good news. We’ll get you a prescription for the laceration and ...” she trails off, looking at the chart with a slight frown.
You feel Max and Charles tense on either side of you. “What is it?” Max asks sharply. “Something wrong?”
The doctor looks up. “No, nothing wrong. Just unexpected. The bloodwork indicates that you’re pregnant, about 8 weeks along.”
“Mon dieu,” Charles breathes, stunned. Max ceases his pacing, mouth agape. They both turn to you with myriad emotions swirling in their eyes.
“A baby?” Max says hoarsely. “We’re having a baby?”
You place a hand over your still flat stomach, head spinning. “I guess we are.”
Charles lets out an incredulous laugh and surges forward to capture your mouth in a fierce kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing.
“They could have hurt our child,” he says darkly. You can see the protectiveness rising in him, mixed with anger at those who endangered his baby.
Max’s expression mirrors Charles’ stormy one. “Those goddamn animals,” he spits. “If anything had happened ...” His hands fist at his sides.
You reach for them both. “But nothing did,” you remind them gently. “We’re both okay.”
They take deep breaths, focusing back on you. Charles rests his forehead against yours while Max kneels to press a kiss to your belly.
“We won’t let anyone hurt you again,” Max vows fiercely. “Either of you.”
Charles nods, jaw set. “We will keep you both safe, I swear it.”
Their protectiveness makes you feel warm and cherished. You know with your boys watching over you, nothing can touch you or your child.
“I know you will,” you say softly. Drawing their faces down, you kiss them each lovingly.
A fierce joy lights their eyes now as the shock fades. You’re having a baby, the three of you. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together as a family.
Charles presses one more kiss to your lips, tender and full of promise. “I love you so much, all three of you,” he whispers.
Max squeezes your hand, eyes blazing. “I love you too. More than I ever thought possible.”
“And we,” your hand drifts to your still-flat stomach, “love you. My brilliant boys.”
***
The paddock buzzes with excitement on race morning, but for once it has nothing to do with fast cars or famous drivers. All eyes turn your way as you make your way through, one hand resting on your growing bump.
At five months along, your pregnancy is impossible to hide anymore. You’d managed to keep it quiet for a while, but last week an overly zoomed paparazzi shot of you in a fitted dress had let the secret out. Now it seems everyone has an opinion on your relationship dynamic and who the father might be.
You keep your head high, ignoring the whispers. Charles and Max wanted to shield you completely, but you refused to be stuck at home or made to feel ashamed. Besides, their steady presence on either side of you is comfort enough.
Charles presses a supportive hand to your lower back. “How are you feeling, chérie?”
You give him a reassuring smile. “We’re good.” Over your head, his eyes meet Max’s, a silent conversation passing between them. Their protectiveness has ramped up tenfold since finding out you’re pregnant.
Nearing the Red Bull garage, Max steers you towards the bathroom. “I’ll meet you inside in a minute, okay? I just need to check in with my engineers first.”
You nod, squeezing his hand before separating. As you exit the bathroom shortly after, a commotion down the paddock draws your eye. Even from a distance, the man’s imposing figure is recognizable. Your heart drops into your stomach.
Jos Verstappen.
He’s gesturing angrily at a retreating figure, who you realize with dread is Max. You’ve never actually met Max’s father, but from what you’ve heard, the man is bad news. Max has only mentioned him in the past tersely, a shadow passing over his face. Whatever he suffered as a child at Jos’ hands seems to have left deep scars.
As you watch, Jos suddenly wheels around and stalks towards the Red Bull garage, no doubt having caught sight of Max going in. Swearing under your breath, you hurry after him. There’s no way this confrontation ends well.
Inside the garage, the mechanics fall silent at Jos’ dramatic entrance. He pays them no mind, making a beeline for Max, who has gone rigid. You slip in behind Jos, catching Charles’ eye where he stands with the Ferrari crew down the pitlane. His brow furrows in concern but you give a small shake of your head — let Max handle this first.
“Max.” Jos’ tone could freeze over hell. “Care to explain what the hell is going on?”
Max’s face shutters. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“The hell you don’t!” Jos snaps. “I had to find out from the goddamn gossip rags that not only are you whoring around with multiple people, but one of them is pregnant? Have you no shame?”
Max flinches, looking stricken. Your hands curl into helpless fists at your sides.
“Watch yourself,” Charles suddenly growls, appearing behind you.
Jos whirls on him with a nasty sneer. “Stay out of this, playboy. This is between me and my son.” He turns back to Max. “Well? Explain yourself.”
Max seems to steel himself, straightening his spine. “There’s nothing to explain. What we have is no one’s business but our own.” His eyes flick to you and Charles briefly and soften before hardening again on his father.
“Bullshit!” Jos snaps. “Have you lost your mind? Carrying on with that girl while she whores around with this one too?” He jabs a finger at Charles then points at your belly. “And you’re telling me you’re fine possibly raising another man’s bastard as your own?”
Max’s expression darkens and he steps forward menacingly. “Watch. Your. Mouth.”
Charles moves closer too, vibrating with anger, but you grab his arm, shaking your head again. Let Max stand up to his father himself.
“We don’t care about who the biological father is,” Max continues fiercely. “That’s our child, no matter what. We’re a family.”
Jos scoffs. “A family? You’re delusional. What happens when those two get bored and leave you behind? This little fantasy you’re living is going to destroy your career.”
“You’re wrong,” Max says sharply. “I love them, and they love me. I’ve never been happier than with them.” His eyes soften again as he looks at you and Charles once more. “I don’t need or want anything else.”
Jos’ lip curls derisively. “Pathetic. I didn’t raise you to be so weak. This ends now, before you ruin your life even more. You will get rid of her and end things with the boy too.”
Charles growls, shaking off your restraining hand to storm forward. But Max beats him to it, getting right in Jos’ face.
“No,” he says, so firmly it brokers no argument. “You don’t control my life anymore. I won’t let you tear apart my family. Now get the hell out of my garage before I have you removed.”
For a moment Jos just gapes, clearly not expecting Max to stand up to him. His face purples with rage but before he can respond, security is there grabbing him by the arms.
“I think it’s time for you to go, sir,” one says firmly, already hauling Jos away.
He struggles in vain, spluttering furiously. But Max has already dismissed him, turning away. Only once Jos is gone does Max seem to deflate, shoulders slumping.
In an instant, you and Charles are both there, wrapping him in your arms. He clutches you both desperately, face buried in your hair.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his back.
Charles presses a kiss to his temple. “You were very brave, mon amour. I’m proud of you for standing up to him.”
Max huffs out a shaky laugh. “Didn’t feel very brave. But I meant what I said — I’m not letting anyone take either of you away from me.”
He pulls back to meet your eyes earnestly. “You are my family now. The only thing that matters to me.” His hand comes to rest gently on your belly. “All three of you.”
Emotion clogs your throat and you see Charles blink back tears. You both lean in simultaneously to kiss Max’s cheeks.
“We love you so much,” you whisper fiercely. “And we’ll always be a family, no matter what.”
Charles nods. “You are stuck with us now. We are yours, just as you are ours.”
The last of the tension bleeds from Max’s frame and he gifts you both with a brilliant, beautiful smile. Leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes shine with happy tears.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he says softly. “I have everything I’ll ever need right here.”
You smile through your own tears, heart overflowing. Together, wrapped in the safety of each other’s love, you know everything will be okay.
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prod-ddeonu · 8 months
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POOL PARTY (l.hs)
MDNI! MDNI! MDNI!
PAIRING: brother's best friend! Heeseung x fem! reader
WC: ~7.3k (whoops my bad)
CW/TW: older brother's best friend, smut (MDNI, 18+) , 1% angst, family problems, fluff, degrading + praise (receiving), oral (both), fingering (receiving), protected (BE SAFE), choking (receiving), spit, hickeys, hee calls reader a slut/whore like twice, public sex/outdoor sex, drinking, assault (if you squint), jealous heeseung, he kind of has a corruption kink and size kink (?), inexperienced reader, lmk if I missed anything!
SUMMARY: Blaring music, colorful lights, free alcohol, horny girls, cool water: pool parties were Lee Heeseung's favorite type of party. When you heard that your older brother, Jake, was throwing one in your back yard for Heeseung's birthday, you took your chance to have Heeseung finally notice you. Luckily for you, Heeseung knew your plan; and two can play that game.
FEATURING: Taehyun of TXT, enha (minus Niki and jungwon)
Buy me a Ko-fi!
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Much like every college student, Lee Heeseung loved three things: money, alcohol, and pool parties. You recalled this as Heeseung and your brother walked into the living room shouting about how “awesome” their party will be, raving about your parents finally deciding to go out for the weekend. Heeseung stopped in the doorway upon seeing your figure curled onto the couch, watching Twilight for the thousandth time. 
“Hey, birthday boy,” you teased, your eyes leaving the television in front of you. Jake locked eyes with you before rolling his own.
“No, you can't go,” Jake replied, annoyance coating his tone. “This party is for cool people only," he swiped at a loose strand of his blonde hair as it fell over his face.
You sighed, putting a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Then why are you going?” You joked back. Heeseung laughed lightly at your response.
He walked to where he could see the screen before turning to Jake. “I don't see why she can't come, it'll be here and all the guys will be here to make sure she's safe,” Heeseung reasoned. His arms rested against the top of the couch, leaning forward as he came closer to you.
Your head turned to face your brother’s best friend, eyeing how his newly silver hair complimented his tan skin. He wore a silver chain over his shirt, the metal dangling dangerously close to you.
Jake groaned, rolling his eyes again. “That's the problem, dude! Tons of guys will be drinking and looking at my baby sister like a piece of meat!” He shouted. “It's best if she just goes to her friend's house and stays far away that night.”
Jake angrily tapped his phone, sending a text to his friends.
You scoffed. “‘Baby sister’? Jake, I'm almost twenty years old.”
He ran a hand through his hair, aggravation evident on his face. “Twenty, twelve, same shit. My answer is final, you are not going to our party.”
You shrugged in response. “And if I happen to want to go for a swim in my own pool with Sunoo, then what?”
“I’ll inflate the kiddy pool for you two.”
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You fiddled with the tiny black box in your hands nervously as Sunoo, your best friend, examined its contents. “Y/N, I'm not sure this is a good idea,” he sighed, placing the object back in the box.
Your shoulders fell as you put the box next to you. Sunoo came to sit next to you, running his hand over your back soothingly. “Maybe if you would tell me why this damn thing was ‘so cool’ I'd reconsider my opinion,” the blonde gestured towards you.
You held the silver sun-shaped pendant in your palm. “It's embarrassing,” you mumbled. 
“Then why are you giving it to hot boy Heeseung?”
You slapped your palm on top of Sunoo’s mouth, glancing towards your door in a panic. “Don't say that shit so loud, Sunoo!” He raised his arms in surrender before you spoke again. “I just… It's something between me and him, and I'm sure he'll understand the meaning.”
“Ooh, did you two fuck on the beach or something?” Sunoo bounced up and down, hitting his knees excitedly. “Tell me EVERYTHING!”
You laughed lightly. “No, that's not it,” you traced the outline of the metal Sun. “It’s much more meaningful and realistic than that.”
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When you were sixteen, your family took a trip to the beach. You had just begun to bloom into womanhood, according to your mother. Jake had decided to bring his friend from school, Heeseung. 
Heeseung was possibly the most popular senior at your high school, your brother a close second to him. You had sat at the bottom of the food chain your entire freshman and sophomore year, until you’d come to school after spring break with a completely new look.
It was the last night of your trip, and you'd decided to go out to the shore one more time before going home. You made your way out in your tank top and shorts, the sandals on your feet crunchy with sand.
The sea greeted you with its soft crashes, the salty, sticky breeze hitting you slowly. You closed your eyes and relished in the tranquility.
Quietly, sniffles began to enter your ears. Your head snapped in their direction, seeing your brother's best friend still shirtless and in his swim trunks that he'd worn all day. He sat with his knees curled into his chest, his brown hair blown askew from the wind.
You walked over to him quietly, sitting next to him with your legs out and arms behind you. “Wanna talk about it?” You asked gently, your eyes never leaving the shore. 
He shook his head as it sat against his knees with another sniffle. You brought your hand up to run through his hair, a common gesture you did. Stopping mid-air, you watched as his shoulders shook with the force of his breathing.
Heeseung’s body visibly relaxed at the feeling of your fingers gently carding through his hair. “Whatever it is, it'll be okay. I'm here for you, if you need someone to talk to,” you comforted him in a light voice.
He couldn't get himself to pick his head up, too afraid to have anyone see him so disheveled. “It's- It's-” he stammered, hiccuping between words. 
You shushed him, whispering that it was okay and that he didn't need to force himself. He lifted his head up, watching the way you stared towards the open ocean as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
He admired the way your hair fell over your shoulders, slightly wavy from the salt water. He watched a smile grace your cheeks, freckles and a slight tint from a sunburn being gently illuminated by the moonlight bouncing from the water. 
“It's my family,” he scratched out, his throat burning from his emotions. “They just, God, they're so shit. My parents fight all the fucking time, and then they expect me to clean up their messes when they throw shit and scare my little siblings. I come home half the time to one of my parents drunk as shit, high off their ass, or flipping their shit at one of the kids.”
He glanced at you, as if to ask if he could continue. You nodded slowly, your eyes giving him all of the reassurance he needed. “I don't want to go home,” he mumbled. “This week with your family has been the best week of my life. I'm not scared to walk out of my room or talk to you all, your family is so loving and easy to be with. I'm so thankful your family let me come and treated me like one of their own.”
Heeseung cracked out another choked sob. “I'm so tired of having to work my ass off to pay bills, and fix shit, and take care of my siblings in my parents’ place, and do good in school, and-”
Heeseung felt his body freeze at the feeling of your soft fingers wiping the tears from his cheeks. He leaned into your touch as you continued to hold his face, his eyes closing in comfort. “You don't have to keep this all to yourself, y'know,” you smiled down to him.
He lifted his eyes to yours, making your breath hitch. The delicate moonlight created a shadow over his face that only served to increase his attractiveness, despite his puffy eyes. His round, doe eyes had a white shine from the illuminated night above him, and you couldn't tell if the stars you were seeing lived in the sky or if they simply lived in his eyes.
“Heeseung,” you breathed out. “You'll always be part of our family.”
Heeseung wrapped his arms around your arms, his chin coming to sit on your shoulder. You let your hands hold his back soothingly, your palms running up and down as he breathed. He brought his face back, staring into your own eyes.
His breath reached your lips with each exhale. “Y/N, you're like a ray of sunshine, y'know?” He laughed, a perfect smile over his features.
“You sound cheesy,” you joked. “But if I can be a ray of sunshine for you when you need it, then I'll be your Sun.”
The two of you sat like that, the last words of your conversation hanging in the air. His face was so, so close to your own.
His eyes flicked down to your lips as he slowly leaned in. “Whenever I need it?” He asked, gauging your reaction.
“Anytime,” you breathed out, almost whispering.
His arms unraveled from your body, hands holding your chin and cheek softly. “What if I just want it?”
You closed the distance, pressing your lips against his, hoping to God that he'd reciprocate. His lips moved against your own slowly, never escalating the kiss beyond just that: a kiss. He pulled away after a few seconds, resting his forehead against your own. He laughed lightly, his shoulders bouncing with him. “Thank you, Y/N, for talking to me. I won't forget this.”
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Sunoo sat with his jaw hung open as you finished recalling the story of your conversation with Heeseung. “So you two kissed?!” Sunoo all but yelled.
You jumped up and slammed your door shut, a threatening glare in your eyes. “Shut up!” You whisper-shouted. “The last thing I need is for Heeseung to hear you, or worse, Jake!”
Sunoo swooned in your bed overdramatically. “And you got him a sun pendant to remind him you're his Sunshine, oh my GOSH! So romantic!”
You put the box back onto your desk. “Not exactly,” you smiled. “Just… friendly.”
“Oh, shut up! You guys kissed all romantically, have you two been sneaking around?”
“Nothing ever happened after that, actually. We just went back to how it was before, with him being Jake's friend and me not being allowed to interact with Jake’s guy friends.”
Sunoo slammed his hands onto your mattress. “Okay, I see the problem. We have to kill Jake.”
Your eyes widened as Sunoo wordlessly slid his finger across his throat. His eyes were wide with exaggeration.
“Oh my God, Sunoo, no! We're not killing my brother!” You laughed, your large t-shirt falling over your gym shorts. 
Sunoo shrugged. “No fun,” he mumbled. He suddenly snapped his fingers as he got an idea, jumping off your bed and tearing through your closet. 
You ran over to him, catching clothes as he threw them behind himself. “Sunoo, what are you doing?!” You shouted, laughter tearing through your body.
He mumbled, “I know you've gotta be hiding your sexy clothes in here,” as he flipped your entire dresser drawer of swimwear upside down. He smiled devilishly, pulling out a white bikini. He held it over your body, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth as he squinted his eyes.
“Sunoo, what are you planning?”
“We're crashing that party, and you're crashing Heeseung,” he stated. He nodded once as he examined where the suit fell and exclaimed, “SEXALICIOUS!”
You giggled, the two of you falling into fashion show mode, trying on different clothes from your closet.
Heeseung stood outside your door, a blush on his cheeks. As he'd promised, he never forgot that night on the beach. In fact, he thought about it quite often. Hearing you laugh every time he came over, seeing you run around with Sunoo happily, the way you would innocently smile at him as if he wasn't thinking about how beautiful you were that night: it drove him crazy.
As time passed and you grew into the adult you are now, Heeseung began to think about how beautiful you would be in front of him, with his cock down your throat. He wanted to ruin the innocence behind your smile.
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The day had finally come. It was Heeseung’s twenty-first birthday, the day that you and Sunoo had been planning for weeks. Your parents cooked a simple ramen for everyone, the cake being the main course. 
Of course, you'd helped decorate the cake. Your mother was only capable of making a sheet cake, so you helped her ice it with smiley faces everywhere and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HEESEUNG” being drawn in the center. 
Heeseung watched as you placed the candles carefully, wanting all twenty-one to be even. He walked over to you as you placed the finishing candle, noticing you were alone.
Heeseung had been planning for this day. At least, he'd been planning since he overheard your plans. He was going to drive you to your absolute limit, and put your simple plan (which he knew would already be highly effective) to its fullest potential.
He smiled at the cake, glancing at you. “Thank you, Y/N. This looks delicious,” he commented. 
Your eyes shot around the room. “Watch out, Heeseung. Jake might froth at the mouth if he sees any of his friends talking to me tonight.”
“Well,” he swiped his finger into the icing, gathering a dollop of white on it, “we'll just have to be sneaky, then.” 
You turned to him, mouth open and ready to scold him for messing with the cake (and your head). He smirked, dragging his finger along his tongue slowly. You watched as the icing spread over it, his tongue flat against his finger. He quietly groaned at the flavor. “Fuck,” he practically moaned. 
“‘Fuck’?” You breathlessly whispered.
He looked at you, licking the rest off of his lips. “Tastes so good, Y/N,” he murmured with half-lidded eyes.
 Suddenly, his sweet eyes had opened back up as his smile reached his ears again. “Can't wait to eat it!” He cheerily harped before walking out of the room, leaving you in a state of confusion and with a puddle in your skirt.
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“BITCH!” Sunoo shouted upon hearing of your interaction with Heeseung. He laughed loudly, his tropical shirt and black swim trunks complimenting the sunglasses he wore atop his head. “He is so flirting with you!”
You walked out of your closet, doing a dramatic twirl in your bikini. You had a pair of glasses on your head, matching Sunoo’s. He clapped and hooted while you did a few more moves, including the iconic Elle Woods “bend and snap”.
Sunoo scanned your figure, from your curled hair down to your painted toes. “Are you seriously wearing an anklet?” He asked as you stood.
You looked down at it. “Yeah, what's wrong with it? It matched the pendant I'm giving Heeseung, I thought it would be cute.”
“It is,” Sunoo nodded, “if you want to tell him you want it to dangle over his shoulder, that is.”
He looked up at you, expecting you to take it off. 
When you made no move to do so, his eyes widened as he began to shout. “Oh my God! You dirty whore, look at you growing up!”
He stood next to you, eyeing the both of you in your mirror before putting an arm over your shoulder. “We could pass as a cute couple, couldn't we?” He commented.
The two of you faked it for about two more seconds before bursting into laughter, Sunoo holding onto your shoulder to keep from falling.
As you heard the door to your house opening, followed by boisterous laughter and shouting, you knew that the party was starting. You and Sunoo walked down the stairs, your gift to Heeseung in your hands. 
Jake's friend, Sunghoon, whistled lowly as you walked into the room. “Damn, Jake, didn't know you had a girlfriend,” he commented.
Heeseung turned to you quickly, his eyes going wide and his cheeks turning red as he checked you out. If he had been trying to hide it, he did not do a good job of it. He shut his open mouth and blinked quickly before trying to get ahold of himself.
Jake looked at you in shock and disgust. “That's my sister, you douche!” Jake shouted. 
“Is she single?” Sunghoon asked flirtatiously.
Heeseung and Jake both shot a look at the boy. 
“Off limits.”
“Don't even try it.”
The two looked at each other after they spoke simultaneously, both shrugging and looking back at Sunghoon with glares.
You came up between Heeseung and Jake, eyeing Sunghoon up and down. “Actually, I am single,” you smiled. “I'll be at the party all night, if you wanted to hang,” you hoped your attempt at blatantly flirting would get to Heeseung.
From the way his jaw clenched, it did.
Your bubble was burst, however, by Jake’s hand on your wrist. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I told you, you are not invited,” Jake dragged you back to the stairs. “Whether you live here or not, you will stay in your room.”
You opened your mouth to protest, only for Heeseung to come up next to you and pluck the sunglasses off of your head. “Why do you have these anyways? You do realize it’s nighttime, right?” He asked, putting them in his own hair.
You rolled your eyes. “Can I at least give Heeseung his birthday gift?” 
Jake shook his head no as Heeseung nodded at you. He smiled tenderly, his hand settling on your shoulder. “I'll find you after the party's over so you can give it to me, yeah?”
You sighed, pretending to give in. “Alright, that works. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room all night. All alone! The one right by the-”
“Alright, horndog, I'll be sure to relay the message that your brother will beat the shit out of anyone who tries to go, don't worry,” Jake began to push you up the stairs.
As Jake and Heeseung greeted more people, you watched the red solo cups fill outside your window. “Sun,” you called out, “do you think girls are gonna hit on Heeseung?”
“I think girls are going to flash him, too,” Sunoo deadpanned. You frowned at him, your makeup not being able to hide your worry. “Girls are going to throw themselves at a hot guy like him, but that guy out there was one of many who will be begging for your attention tonight.”
He walked over to you, rubbing your arms. “You are hot shit tonight, babe. If you want Heeseung to notice you, you've gotta flaunt it.”
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After the two of you snuck back into the party, it took about five minutes before a guy offered to show you how to use a keg. Once you'd gotten that information, you were unstoppable.
You had about four cups of beer before deciding to take a break, the buzz making you dizzy. You let your feet dangle into the water of the pool, watching the way the water rippled under your feet.
The slight waves in your pool from people swimming reminded you of that night on the beach so many years ago. There was no way Heeseung remembered, you thought. You were probably just a kid to him, or a little sister. 
You looked up and took in the scene of your backyard. You’d seen it from your window many nights, but you’d never been immersed into it. Girls ran around with pool floats in skimpy swimsuits, guys targeted one another with water guns, your pool was decorated with LED lights and stray solo cups, and your brother was easily the life of the party. 
Currently, your dad’s expensive speaker setup for the pool was blaring “Beauty and a Beat” by Justin Beiber. You watched as a beach ball was tossed around the party, beer splashing onto the ground and water dripping down bodies.
You felt a leg brush against your own as someone sat next to you. A shirtless man with big eyes and an impressive physique sat next to you, his hair dripping with water. “You ever been to one of Jake’s parties?” The man asked.
You shook your head, “I’ve only ever heard of them, this is my first party.” The man watched as you took another chug of your drink.
He let his hand touch against the flush on your cheeks, smiling at you. “I can tell, you look bored as fuck. My name’s Taehyun.”
“Hi, Taehyun. I’m Y/N,” you smiled, holding your hand out for him to shake.
He looked at you with a confused smile, shaking your hand slowly. He then intertwined your fingers, his pink hair dripping water into your hand. His muscles flexed as he helped you stand with him, his pretty hand coming to steady you. “Say, do you want something a little better than beer? It tastes like shit, a pretty girl like you needs quality drinks."
You glanced at your cup, eying the amount of beer you had left. You chugged the rest, nodding as you swallowed. “Yeah, what the hell? I'm always up for a challenge.”
He cocked a brow. “Oh? I like that,” he held your hands as he led you to the drink table. 
You handed him your cup as he poured a mixture of clear liquid, lime, and frozen pink lemonade into a cup. “Try this. It's good, and it's not enough to fuck you up off one cup,” he smiled. 
You pushed the drink down your throat, your eyes widening as you swallowed. “Holy shit, Taehyun. This tastes like a fucking slushy.”
“I know, it's awesome,” he praised himself.
As you laughed, you felt a pair of eyes glaring at you. You hoped it wasn't Jake as you sound around.
Heeseung sat behind you, a girl sitting sideways on his lap. You watched as she ran her hand up and down his chisled abs, his hands behind his head. She whispered into his ear, a smirk crossing his lips, but you knew she didn't have his undivided attention at the moment.
His eyes were burning into you, and if looks could kill, the entire neighborhood would have gone up in flames. With a clenched jaw and raised eyebrows, he glared at you as if to say don't even try it. He stared at you so intently that you felt almost ashamed for talking to Taehyun.
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance. “Taehyun, do you want to try a sip?”
He looked you up and down. “I mean, sure,” he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close enough to have you pour the drink into his mouth yourself.
Your lips curved into a smile. “Flirting, huh?” You teased him.
He smiled back. “Is it working?”
You grabbed his chin, forcing his face closer to yours. “Only if you're looking to get laid tonight,” you said, sure that Heeseung was reading your lips.
You glanced at the boy, his jaw clenched again. He returned his focus to the girl on his lap, his hand gripping at her thigh. You watched as she turned to him, a gasp escaping her lips.
Taehyun smirked as he crashed his lips into yours, a much different kiss from the one you shared with Heeseung four years ago. His hand wove its way into your hair, his other hand holding your hip. He pushed your body against his, your back arching into him as you let out a moan.
He took the opportunity to insert his tongue into your mouth, clashing against your own. He sucked your tongue harshly, his lower hand gravitating towards your ass. You brushed your leg against Taehyun’s crotch, a low groan leaving his lips as he pulled away. “Maybe we should take this where we can't be seen by everyone, yeah?”
You nodded, Taehyun already starting to lead you to the side of your house. You watched as the two of you walked into the seclusion of the shadow cast by it, your heart racing.
Maybe, having seen Heeseung with the other girl and believing he doesn't want you the way you want him, you could move on.
Taehyun placed a hand on the wall of your house, your foreheads touching. “God, you're so hot,” he sighed, capturing your lips again. It was one filled with lust, with teeth clashing and lip biting.
You grabbed his hand and lifted it to your chest as he backed away and looked at you. “Are you sure?” He asked. “I don't want it to be the beer talking.”
You nodded, throwing your head back as he kneaded your boob over your swimsuit. He squeezed your mound in time with every jab of his tongue into your mouth, occasionally pinching your nipple through the material. You had all but cum from him just kissing and touching your chest when he was suddenly ripped away from you.
“Dude, what the fuck?!” Taehyun shouted, bracing himself as he hit the ground.
You watched as Heeseung didn't spare the man a glance, his attention entirely on you. His eyes raked over your figure mercilessly, making you feel small in your own yard. 
Taehyun looked between the two of you, confusion and anger evident on his face. “Tae, go back to the party. You don't want her,” Heeseung said in a low voice.
Taehyun scoffed. “And who are you to make decisions for her?” His arms came to cross in front of his chest.
“She's Jake’s little sister,” Heeseung turned his head to face the other. “He'll kill you.”
Taehyun cursed under his breath before running off, hoping your brother hadn't seen your show earlier. Your eyes followed him, wondering if he could’ve given you what you’d been hoping for.
You glared at Heeseung. “What the fuck is your problem, Hee? You can't just tell me what to do!” You pushed him back by his chest, your smaller hands barely moving him.
Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, his stare harder than anything you’d seen before. He stared at you like you were wrong for kissing Taehyun, wrong for kissing anyone else. His hair, which he used your sunglasses to push back after jumping into the pool, still dropped some water onto his neck and shoulders. You watched as a droplet fell down his collarbones, trailing down his chest and stomach, collecting in the waistband of his swim trunks.
You wanted to lick every bead of water off of his body.
His tongue peeked out of mouth to wet his lips, his teeth catching the bottom of the two as his eyes fell to where Taehyun had touched. 
His hands balled into fists as he fought his desires. He closed his eyes, groaning in anger. “Go to your room. Jake will never talk to either of us again if we do this.”
He turned to walk away, taking two steps before you spoke up. “Do fucking what, Hee? Instead of me falling for that fucking show you put on earlier with the cake, I decided to go and find someone who was actually into me. Nowhere does that involve you!”
Heeseung turned around. “You think I’m not into you? You don’t think I’ve been fighting myself to not kiss you all this time?” He raised his voice, the tension finally getting to him.
Suddenly, it was too hot outside. In the cool night air, your body temperatures began to rise to unseen numbers.
“I don’t know, Heeseung. You sure didn’t have to do much fighting if you’ve lasted four years.”
He slammed his hand against your head onto the wall, much harder than Taehyun had. Your faces were inches away from one another, you could smell the beer on his breath. “I see your pretty fucking lips in my dreams, Y/N. I’ve had to imagine your pretty little face and how it would look if you were choking on me for ages, and tonight, I have to watch you parade around with your ass out and your tits barely covered? Do you know how badly I wanted to rip these clothes off you when you walked down those stairs?”
You held your breath, his eyes glancing to your lips. “What makes you think I won't just walk away and go find someone else?” You asked. The two of you both knew you were bluffing, an empty threat that only served to make Heeseung angrier.
“If anyone’s fucking you tonight, it’s gonna be me.”
Heeseung looked into your eyes, how they were wide with anticipation for him. He looked down to your lips, admiring how they were already pouty and puffy for him, begging for him to kiss you right. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to your own. 
You threw your arms over his shoulders, his hand holding the back of your head as he pushed your mouths impossibly close. His other hand slid down the curve of your hips, holding onto your leg and pulling it up to wrap around his hips. You moaned as you felt his hard-on press into you, Heeseung taking the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, Heeseung winning and taking your lip between his teeth. He backed away, loving how you looked under him. “Go inside. I’ll excuse myself from the party and meet you in your room.”
You nodded, walking towards your front door to sneak back in. Heeseung jogged back around the house to find your brother. Jake was laughing with his friends, a girl sat on his leg as he played with her hair. “Yo, Heeseung!” He called out, obviously plastered. 
Heeseung walked to him, yawning. “Dude, I hate to say this, but I’m feeling super tired. Must’ve been all the swimming and all the beer, man.” Jake looked around the party, seeing how everyone else was still partying.
Jake put his cup onto the table behind him. “Do you want me to call off the party? It is your party, after all.”
Heeseung shook his head. “Nah, keep it going. I’m just gonna head inside and go to bed, but don’t stop the party. Keep it going as long as possible, actually.” Jake cocked a brow at him in confusion. “In my honor, y’know,” he added. Jake gave him a thumbs up, standing and shouting something incoherent, to which everyone else cheered.
Heeseung ran inside, practically flying up the stairs and to your room. He swung your door open, slamming it shut and smashing his lips onto your own again. He reached his hand behind your back to push the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders, halting all movement when you pushed him off of you.
“Is something wrong?” He asked with worry.
You shook your head, grabbing the black box from your desk and handing it to him. “I wanted to give you this first. I think you’ll like it.”
He nodded, opening the box. “Is that for this?” He asked, holding his chain out. You nodded, helping him put the pendant on.
You sighed as you looked at it. “It’s supposed to be because-”
“Because I called you my ray of sunshine, I remember. I go to sleep thinking about that kiss,” he mumbled at the end.
 You pointed to your ankle. “I have the matching anklet. Figured it would look good over your shoulder.”
Heeseung looked up at you, the toothy grin on his lips contrasting the filthy words coming from them. “I know exactly what position I want you in first.”
He kissed you again, unclasping your top and pulling it off of you as he made his way down your jawline and neck. His fingertips fluttered down your arms gently, goosebumps appearing behind them. He bit along the bottom of your neck, leaving small bruises in his wake. You swallowed a moan, earning a harsh bite from him. “Let me hear your pretty voice, babe,” he whispered into your ear.
His hand slid to your boob, experimentally pinching your nipple with his thumb and index finger. You let out a quiet moan, melting into his touch.
He brought his other hand to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles onto the side of your stomach. He kissed his way down your chest, leaving hickeys all the way down to your free boob. You moaned as he licked your other nipple, the cold air hitting his saliva and making it perk. 
You let out a loud moan, hands flying to the top of his head as he sucked harshly and rolled your other nipple between his fingers. He pushed you against your bed, your legs falling over the side as your back lay on the edge. He continued to roll your nipple between his fingers as he kissed down the valley of your tits, down your stomach, and to the hem of your swimsuit bottoms. "Already so wet for me, why didn't you say you needed me, baby?" He smirked against your stomach, his fingers already curling underneath the material.
“You talked so much shit earlier, and now look at you. You can't even tell me how bad you want me to eat your fucking pussy,” he mused. “Tell me, am I the first?”
You felt his hot breath fan over your clothed core, your wetness showing through the white material. “Y- You’re the first,” you breathily said. Heeseung let out a low groan, a dark smile appearing.
He ripped the clothing down your legs, throwing them to the corner of your room. He looked down at your core, your lips glistening with your wetness. “Fuck, I’ve barely even touched you,” he let the sight and smell invade his senses. “So pretty, baby, so pretty for me. Almost like you were made to be my pretty whore.”
Your hole clenched around his words, the praise going straight to your stomach. He put his finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles over it before dragging it down to your hole and back up. He pulled his finger to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. Sucking your juices into his mouth, he closed his eyes and moaned. “Taste so good, might have to just eat you out until you’re begging for my cock.”
“Hee, please,” you whined.
“Please what, babe?” He cooed, the tip of his finger pushing into where you needed him most. “You think Taehyun could’ve made you needy like this? Think he could’ve had you whining for him like this?”
“N- No, Hee, only you,” you moaned as he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it to make your back arch.
He laughed cruelly at how sensitive you were, fanning his breath over your heat. He wanted to watch the way you squirmed over a singular finger, wanted to see the way you saw stars from him doing so little to you. He wanted to stay strong, palming himself over his shorts to the sound of you.
You moaned loudly, your legs twitching. Heeseung growled, his resolve shattering into pieces as he dragged the tip of his tongue up from your hole to your clit slowly, eyes rolling back in his head at the taste.
"Fuck, Y/N, you taste so amazing. Could eat you all day."
He latched his lips onto your folds, licking and sucking your slick until his nose and chin were shiny with it. He pumped his finger fast, a relentless pace building up. You felt a knot in your stomach building, his lips coming to latch around your clit and suck. “‘m close,” you mumbled, your head thrown back. 
He sloppily licked over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the euphoria he’d been building you up to. He added a second finger, stretching you out and pushing you over the edge. You saw white and your ears rang as he swallowed as much of your juices as he could, the rest coating his chin and nose still. Once he was sure you’d come down from your high, he brought his lips to your own and kissed you, forcing you to taste yourself. It wasn’t as sweet as he made it out to be, but if he enjoyed it, you guess. 
“So good for me, you’re so, so good for me baby. My pretty baby, already all fucked out for me,” he commented, holding your jerking hips down. “Get on your knees.”
You obeyed, sliding to the floor on your weak legs, your eyes staring into his. He pulled his shorts off of his body, his hard dick slapping his stomach, leaving a string of precum attaching his tip to his lower abdomen. He looked at you expectantly. “Can’t expect me to teach you everything, not when you were gonna give another guy the same like I haven’t been waiting.”
You wrapped your hand around his member, the tip continuing to leak into your hand. Heeseung wasn’t monstrously thick, but he was long. His girth was what you’d consider average, if not a little above, but his length was longer than you’d imagined he could be. You used your thumb to spread his precum down the underside of his cock, bringing your head to lick up the trail you created from base to tip. He threw his head back, a pretty moan slipping past his lips as you put your lips around the tip and sucked. 
The tension in his shoulders released, his jaw going slack as you tried to fit him inside your mouth. He found it so cute how you tried your best, but so sexy that your proportions were so much smaller, that he had to fit himself in you.
You used your hands to stroke where you couldn’t reach, your head not going very far beyond his head. He moaned loudly as you used your tongue against his slit, his hand collecting your hair into a ponytail.  He thrusted into your mouth, his dick going down your throat and making you gag. “Shit, baby, are you okay?” He asked quickly.
You nodded, pulling yourself off of him. “I’ve never done this before, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he stroked the side of your face. “That makes this more fun. I can help, if you want.”
“Please.”
His cock twitched in your hands as he looked down at you, your eyes teary and your chin dripping with slobber. You were fully naked on the floor in front of him, your hair messy and your chest marked. And you looked so beautiful for him.
He moaned at the begging tone of your voice, the hand in your hair holding your head in place as he thrusted forward. He was holding back from going fast, you could tell. You gripped his thighs, your nails digging into them as you moaned around his dick. He sucked in a breath, pulling out of your mouth. “Shit,” he hissed, “I almost came doing that.”
He pulled you up by your hair, the pain making you drip down the inside of your thighs. You moaned loudly as he jerked your head around, littering your chest with more hickeys. “Trying so hard to be gentle with you, I promise. You’re just so perfect, want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“Hee, be rough. Wanna feel you,” you moaned into his kiss. 
His eyes squeezed shut, a low groan emerging from the back of his throat. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He threw you onto your bed, climbing on between your legs and pinning your hands above your head with one hand. He kissed you roughly, his teeth grazing whatever skin they could.
His finger tapped the side of your lips. “Open,” he commanded. You opened your mouth, watching the glob of saliva fall from his lips. “Swallow.” You let the warm liquid travel down your throat as he said it. “Good girl,” he cooed in your ear sweetly, his stomach filling with warmth as he watched you. “Want everyone out there to hear how good you are for me. So bratty and talkative outside, and now you want my cock so bad you’ll do anything, isn’t that right?”
You nodded. “Want you s’ bad, Hee,” you whined as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. “Wanna feel you in me.”
You reached under your pillow, pulling a condom out and handing it to him. He ripped the package open with his teeth, sliding the rubber on easily. “Had it ready for me, you knew I’d be in you tonight, didn’t you? My pretty little slut,” he teased as he pressed the tip of his dick against your hole. 
He grabbed your legs, bringing them over his shoulders. True to your word, your anklet dangled next to his face as his matching necklace hung over your face. He pushed your legs closer to you, pressing you in on yourself as he slowly started to push in. “Stop teasing,” you stammered. “P- Push it in all the way.”
He threw his head forward, watching his cock disappear into you and bulge in your stomach. “S’ tight, s’ happy I got to fuck this pretty pussy. Can’t believe you almost let someone else see this when you know it’s all mine,” he spoke filthily over you.
He slowly began to thrust in and out, building up to a fast pace that had your bed creaking. His jaw hung open, shameless moans spilling from his mouth. His breath would catch in his throat, short gasps telling you he found this as pleasurable as you did. His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing until you felt lightheaded. He brought you up by your neck to kiss you.
This kiss was much softer and slower than the others. He took his time savoring your lips and their pillowy feel, he committed the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his to memory. He let your head fall back down as he brought his head into your neck. You felt the familiar tightening in your stomach that you had before, his dick filling you up entirely. He moaned into your ear, words of praise falling from his delicate lips with each thrust. “‘S good, ‘s perfect, all mine,” he said. "Ngh, fuck, feels 's tight around me."
Your nails scratched down his back as he ruthlessly pounded into you, a loud moan escaping him as he felt the pain. You moaned his name louder the harder he pounded into you, only fueling his drive. He picked his head up, his eyes bearing into your own. “Tell me whose cock is making you feel this good, hm? Who’s making this tight little pussy cum so hard, hm? Is it anyone out there, or is it me?”
“You, ‘s all you, Heeseung. Don’t want anyone but you, Hee,” you moaned. You felt your orgasm coming quick the more he teased you. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”
Heeseung sucked hard against your neck. “Fuckin’ love when you call me that,” he groaned in your ear. “You’re my baby, all mine, I’m all yours,” he cooed. “Only this pretty pussy makes me feel this good, nobody else.”
You pulled Heeseung back down to you, “Shut up and kiss me, ‘m so close.”
“Fuck, me too,” he said, molding his lips to your own. His mouth caught your whines and moans as you came undone onto him, your cum coating his abdomen and thighs. Your hole spasmed around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm, making him release into the condom.
He panted into your ear, his forehead against your own. The two of you sat in that position for a few minutes, catching your breaths and kissing one another. 
He slowly pulled out of you, tying the condom and tossing it into the trash can. He came back to lay on top of you, holding your waist as he did so. He pulled your blanket over you both, bringing you up to your pillows. “Jake’s gonna wonder where you are, Hee,” you ran your fingers through his hair.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he laughed, his hand intertwining with your free one. “Just had sex with the girl I’ve been in love with for four years, he can suck it up.”
You looked down at him. “You’re in love with me?”
He looked back up at you and nodded. “You couldn’t tell?”
“Heeseung, I was going to give up on you after tonight if nothing happened.”
“I was supposed to move on from you too, but I realized I didn’t give a fuck about Jake’s overprotectiveness.”
You laughed. “I don’t think he’ll be too mad. He does trust you with his life, after all,” you smiled while rubbing your thumb over his hand. He brought his head to lay on the pillow next to you, bringing your body closer to his. “So, what does this mean for us?”
Heeseung ran his hand down your side soothingly. “Well, Sunshine, even though I did it insanely out of order,” he laughed, “I’d like to take you out on actual dates and get your parents’ approval and all. Y’know, court you and shit. Treat you like someone I want to spend my life with.”
You smiled. “I’d like that, Hee.”
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The two of you fell asleep like that. Needless to say, Jake was not pleased when he went to look for Heeseung in the morning. Your parents immediately gave him the seal of approval to date you, but Jake took much longer to come around. It wasn’t until Heeseung told him he wouldn’t ask you to be his girlfriend until he got Jake’s approval that Jake realized how stupid his friend was.
“You mean to tell me, you’ve been in love with my little sister since that vacation, but you’re waiting on something as stupid as my approval to ask her out?” Jake had asked one morning while the three of you ate breakfast together.
Heeseung nodded, pouring another bowl of cereal for himself. “Yep, pretty much,” he smiled.
“Dude, it’s been, like, a fucking month!” Jake exclaimed. “Why would you do that?”
“He wanted to wait for his best friend to be happy for him and the little sister,” you grumbled, morning crankiness being your worst enemy. Jake looked between the both of you, his eyes wide.
Heeseung’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did, his spoon aimlessly stirring his meal. “I want my best friend to not hate me for life if I date his little sister,” Heeseung corrected you.
Jake slammed his fist onto the counter, making you both jump. “Dude, I might beat your ass. Really,” he glared at Heeseung. “I can get over you two dating, but I won’t be able to get over you hurting her.”
“I would never-”
“That includes being an idiot and making her wait,” Jake interrupted Heeseung. “Ask the girl out-”
“Hello, ‘girl’ is right here,” you waved.
Jake held a hand in front of your face. “Ask the girl out, and make her happy.”
Heeseung pushed Jake’s hand out of your face, leaning over the counter. “Hey, girl,” he smiled. Jake rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, leaving his cereal on the counter. Heeseung grabbed your hand with his. “How happy would it make you if I took you out tonight?”
“Well, in my mind we’ve been dating for four years, so I’d be pretty happy,” you smiled as you put a spoonful of cereal in your mouth. 
“Well, girl, I’m excited to celebrate our imaginary four year anniversary when you become my girlfriend tonight."
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NOTES: ohhh my gosshhhh this took so long to write 😭 never really written this much before, I'm scared it's repetitive or boring. I just listened to Beauty and a Beat and my mind was like "omg heeseung at a pool party yass"
Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, and my asks/requests are always open!
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slasher-cam · 1 month
Note
Hii!! May i request a story before the Hour of Joy to where the reader asks dogday 'whos a good boy?'. The poor doge needs to know how much of a good boy he is!!😭
Sweet Affirmations
Request? [ yes ] [no] Notes|| Aww ofc! Also thank you so much!! This is my first request and such a sweet one at that! Hope you enjoyᡣ𐭩 Synopsis|| As you grow use to working around ginormous toys at your job you can't help but grow to adore one above the the rest Warnings||FLUFF-❀, SFW-♡, ASKS-✰, can be viewed as platonic|| Word Count|| 497 DogDay x Reader
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Your first day working at Playtime.co was a hay-dream. Being surround by these ginormous toys that towered way above you was definitely something you had to get use to in the coming days but something that was definitely interesting. But one of them stood out to you,
DogDay
DogDay was always so sweet and caring and the very first of the smiling critters you met! He was always asking you how you were doing and was constantly by your side as soon as you checked onto work. DogDay was by far the most clingy to you, always asking your co workers when you were gonna come back and why don't you just stay here much to the annoyance to your co workers and always attached to your hip as soon as you checked in.
One day it was normal just like any other as you watched the smiling critters play and interact with the kids just making sure no accidents happened. You were watching DogDay play tag with his group of kids as you practiced bracelet making with your group. A kid in his group accidentally ran into your bowl of beads sending them scattering every whichway.
"Oh no, we're so sorry angel! I didn't realize how close our groups were,"
DogDay dropped down and fretted and his ears drooped as he began helping you pick up the scattered beads. You chuckled softly at him and began picking up the beads yourself.
"It's okay Dogday, Really. I should have sat my group so close to yours"
You smiled at him as you both gathered the last of the beads beck into the bowl.
As DogDay looked back up from picking up the beads he realized how close you guys actually were. DogDay was about to get up and apologies again when you got up first and leaned over him. For the first time you were now standing over him and he was looking up at you. Suddenly he felt your hands on his cheeks as your thumbs circling his cheeks making him blush as his eyes widen.
"Whos a goodboy?"
You coo as you giggle at him. His pupils dilate as his blush increases on his cheeks that he thankful that fur covers his cheeks. He feels his tail thumping hard against the faux grass as his heart beat speeds up
"Me?"
You grin down at him as you begin softly scratching at his chin and furry cheeks and say
"You're such a good boy DogDay~"
His tail thumps even harder as it happily waves as a sheepish grin spreads on his face. A childs voice suddenly calls out as kids giggle
"Dogday has a crush on Ms/Mx. (lastname)!!"
。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚。 ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚。
Hope you enjoyed xoxoᡣ𐭩
(Srry this turned out short)
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steddiealltheway · 10 months
Text
It starts out simple. Eddie notices that Steve sometimes spaces out, but no one really pays him much attention. Usually, he’ll try to enter back into the conversation, and he’ll earn a few eye rolls when he has no idea what anyone’s talking about.
But what really haunts Eddie is the way Steve will sometimes be zoned out with his jaw and fists clenched, looking as if he’s reliving the worst of the upside down. He’ll gradually come out of it, and sometimes Robin will nudge him and quietly whisper if he’s okay, but he just shakes it off.
It’s like he has to appear fine in front of everyone, but Eddie gets it. He’s not sure what the group would do if Steve fell apart.
But a few times, he looks like he’s on the verge of it.
One time, he’s far away enough from everyone that Eddie is able to inconspicuously make his way to the former jock and nudge him. “Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie asks.
Steve startles and Eddie watches as the tension in him increases then slowly releases until he appears “normal.”
Eddie grabs his wallet and sifts through it before finally finding what he wants. A single dull penny.
He hands it to Steve who takes it and starts fiddling with it. He glances back at everyone else to make sure they’re out of earshot before he answers, “I’m just scared that maybe this Vecna creep will return, you know? It’s happened four times by now. How do we know it’s over?”
Eddie takes a deep breath. He’s gone through the same thought process of wondering if he’ll be back. If life will return to hell again. But he can’t imagine what it’s been like for Steve whose done it multiple times.
But he’s been able to logic his way out of his anxiety before. “Well, we have Will who has the whole Spidey-sense thing going on, so we’ll know if he’s back but… remember what El said. She felt it. Like it was finished this time. For good.”
Steve just nods and Eddie sees the tiniest shred of anxiety slip away. “Plus,” Eddie continues, “Can’t let our hero boy do all the worrying or his strength might deplete. How about I do all the worrying and standing guard tonight, huh?”
Steve glances over at him for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s going to laugh him off or something. Instead, he lets out a shaky sigh, puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thanks, man.”
Eddie watches as Steve pockets the penny and actually heads toward the group with a smile on his face. He smiles and looks around. Time to stand guard.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Eddie almost forgets about it, but it’s probably the whole not-getting-any-sleep-because-he-keeps-having-nightmares thing. It’s been a particularly bad week when he finds himself in the Harrington home with all the gremlins and other adults. He wants to be all bigger than life / life of the party, but his energy is gone.
He sits at the kitchen island on a barstool with his head in his hands, staring at the granite slab of the countertop when a hand and something slides into his view.
The hand pulls back and Eddie gets sight of a penny. What the-?
He looks up to see Steve sitting next to him with a small smile on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?” He asks.
Eddie stares at him and feels his heart flutter but he wills that to die down a bit. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Just…” he glances off to see if anyone else is in earshot before continuing, “I keep getting these damn nightmares. Sometimes about… Chrissy… sometimes about random stressful shit, but they just won’t stop. It’s like although Vecna’s gone, he’s always here.”
Steve’s gaze has turned sympathetic as he runs a hand through his hair and looks around before lowering his voice. “I’ve been through the same thing, but I’ve found that it’s easier getting through the night with other people. Don’t tell anyone, but I snuck into Robin’s room for weeks after the whole Russian torture thing. But hey, if you want to crash here with me tonight, I’d be more than happy to have you.” Steve glances away from Eddie and runs a hand through his hair again as a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Hell, you’d be helping me out too, man.”
Eddie considers it and immediately feels a wave of relief flood through him at the thought. He pockets the penny and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “That’d be great. Thank you. Really,” Eddie says with a smile and eases himself off the barstool.
He hears Dustin raising his voice in the other room and Eddie says to Steve, “Time to ware out the children.”
Steve just laughs and joins him, but Eddie sees another tiny piece of tension leave his body.
-:-:-:-:-:-
It slowly becomes their thing. Eddie finds himself keeping pennies on himself at all times just in case, but by some strange fate, him and Steve always use that same penny.
Sometimes it pressed into Eddie’s palm, Eddie once throws it at Steve yelling, “catch!”, and sometimes it just appears in one of their vision.
The thoughts range from stupid things like Steve trying to remember if he turned off the oven to Eddie’s Dnd campaign to the overwhelming trauma from the Upside Down seeping into their lives.
Along with the penny becoming a regular thing, Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed becomes a regular thing too. At first, it’s a bit awkward as they try to find out how much space each of them needs, what side of the bed they prefer, what they’re like in the mornings, and overall just how to be around each other when sharing a bed.
It shifts when one night, Eddie notices Steve staring at the ceiling wide awake. Eddie leans over the side of the bed where his pants are and digs into his pocket to retrieve the penny which he gently lays on Steve’s chest.
Steve glances down and carefully picks it up, twirling it as Eddie watches the coin slightly glint in the moonlight. There’s a deep breath and then Steve is saying, “I was just thinking about what if we… I don’t know. Like… held each other? Or rather, I was thinking that it would be nice to be held.”
Steve sets the penny down on the nightstand which indicates the end of his thoughts but he doesn’t dare turn to face Eddie. But Eddie is already scooting closer to press his body against Steve who instantly curls into Eddie’s embrace holding him as if he’ll escape if he tries to let go. But Eddie would never escape.
And every night they hold each other close with no questions asked and no penny needed.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Eddie’s feelings for Steve grow. He knows they’ve been there since the beginning, but with the whole penny thing, it’s like he has the key to all of Steve’s deepest thoughts and desires. He knows that Steve has access to his as well and is just thankful that Steve’s never given him the penny when Eddie’s been staring at him. He knows he can’t lie to Steve, and it may be dumb, but he especially can’t lie with that penny in sight.
So, he says nothing. He keeps holding Steve through the night, comforting him if he’s awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, but usually just laying there willing himself to stay awake as long as he can so he can bask in the sensation of holding Steve Harrington.
Then, one morning as Steve makes them breakfast, Eddie looks at him for a little too long, wondering how he’s been able to live his life without him when that penny is slid into his sight.
Eddie blinks down at it and swallows as Steve looks at him. “You,” Eddie blurts out, “I was just thinking about you.”
Eddie leaves the penny on the table because he knows that’s not enough of his thoughts. Steve turns back to scrape the eggs out of the pan onto a plate and put some butter on their toast before he turns back to Eddie. He doesn’t pry, but through the breakfast the penny stays in sight.
Eddie’s plate is clear when he finally fully answers, “I was just thinking about how much better my life has been since you’ve come into it, and… thank you.” He feels blood rise to his cheeks and finds Steve with a similar blush.
“I was thinking the same about you,” Steve responds and takes their plates to clean them before Eddie can respond.
He knows he’s falling in love with him.
-:-:-:-:-:-
It’s a few mornings later, and Eddie feels someone watching him. It doesn’t feel creepy or bad because he can feel the way that Steve has shifted to lean over him. Eddie opens his eyes slowly and takes in the view of Steve staring down at him with a small smile on his face. Eddie rolls towards his side of the bed, where his clothes are piled up and grabs the penny before rolling back to Steve.
He gently presses it into Steve’s hand who continues to stare down at him with a look in his eyes that Eddie can only assume is reflected in his own gaze.
Steve takes a deep breath and whispers, “I was just thinking that I might be in love with you.”
Eddie’s heart stutters, and he feels Steve’s hand shift to press the penny into his. Eddie smiles and replies, “I think I might be in love with you too.”
Steve smiles all wide and bright in the way that makes Eddie feel like he’s the luckiest person in the world to be able to see it. Then, Steve’s hand is intertwining with Eddie’s and as the penny presses into their palms, they both lean in and kiss, only breaking away when they both break into wide smiles and begin laughing as all the tension drains from them.
Years later, Eddie gets the penny turned into a ring and when he gets down on one knee, all he asks is, “Penny for your thoughts?”
AO3 Link (for @humanityinahandbag <3)
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