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fics-lovebot · 1 year

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jungkook fic recs

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

i´ll be constantly updating this list so make sure to check it out often for new recs ;)))

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

e.r means established relationship

disclaimer: if you came back to read that one fire fic you liked but can´t find it, its bc the link wasn´t working anymore so I deleted it :/

last updated: 08/08/2024

yandere / mafia / bad boy

bloody love - ( @hongjoongscafe ) smutty, king jk, evil jk, obsessed jk, posessive jk, blood thirsty jk like fr, he honestly loves bathing in the blood of those who did him wrong in his eyes, reader is lgb. this is an on going series but I´LL BE DAMNED IF IT ISN´T THE BEST THING I´VE READ in a minute!!, the writing its so captivating, not a single dull or boring moment, i can´t wait for the next part tbh

romantic dreams - ( @kooktrash ) yandere!jungkook, tattoo artist jk, boxer!jk, UGHH ITS GOODDD, he´s so toxic frfr, namjoon is sick of his ass lmao, totally obsessed with reader, jealous and possesive af, he´s crazy sdlfjs but i´m into it

toxic noona - ( @aajjks ) yandere!noona, toxic controling relationship, jk is a victim, he´d rather die than leave, reader likes to make him cry, manipulation

crafting new memories - ( @peachypinkygloss ) yandere!jk FR, stockholm syndrome, jk kiddnaped reader and fucks her while making her watch herself on the news,,,her own missing sign

yours insanely - ( @smileyoongle ) yandere!jk, serial killer jk, detective!reader, he kills women who look like you, so interesting to read

darknet - ( @darkestcorners ) yandere!jk, the internet is scary, human trafficking, jk is scary dangerous, it´s a LOT, just wow

who is in control? - ( @ctrlsht ) yandere-ish, lawyer!jk, posessive jk, obsessive jk, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, secret relationship, he´s cray-cray

hybrid au / soulmate au / super hero au / alien au

bunnytalk - ( @woncon ) bunny hybrid jk, owner reader, jk is a sad bunny bc reader won´t return his feelings but it´s all just a misunderstanding

night vision - ( @bonny-kookoo ) e.r, alien!jk, suggestive, lowkey smut, bunny hybrid reader, jk has tentacles ,,,,,nothing else to say, flirty fluffy jk, this is dIFFERENTTTT i love it

closer - ( @blublublujk ) smut, step siblings au, noona reader, yandere!jk, jk is obsessed with him older step sister, WHEWWW this is intense, very detailed, loved it

slice of life / university au / idol jk

you make him go crazy - ( @onlyswan ) fluff, idol!jk, slight angst, multiple scenarios, reader is constantly making him go nuts, he is STRESSED lmao, it´s cute anyways, reader is kind of a careless brat but jk wouldn´t have it any other way

you wear his clothes - ( @nochukoo97 ) fluff, thing is...HE gives you his clothes, he´s so boyfriendd

call me soon - ( @peachypinkygloss ) summer break up, strangers to fwb to lovers, obsessed jk

screw up; over wine - ( @koocycle ) finance major jk x model!reader, first date drabble, he is really into reader so he takes her to a fancy pricey wine and dine but guess wHAT.. he is broke lmao so he straight up PANICS, lowkey highkey secondhand embarrasment but it´s jk so it ends in a cute way

kiss me better - ( @jaykaysthicthighs ) angst, jerk jk, mean jk, misunderstanding, manhandling, he is crying bc he assumed she was cheating but he was sooo wrong, now he is begging, crying, throwing up,,, they make up anyways, its angsty in a satisfying way

you´re sleepy but you promised you´d go grocery shopping with him - ( @thvhoe ) e.r, its cuteeeee

couple questions with vogue - ( @kjdkive ) fluff, e.r, idol!jk, supermodel!reader, I LOVE THISSSS, he is the best boyfriend/fiancé soon to be hubby EVER UGHHHH its so cute

devoted to trouble - ( @jeonsweetpea ) fluff, lil angst, smut, comedy, spiderman!jk au inspired by seven??? a masterpiecE. the world finds out he is spiderman but he dgaf bc he only cares about you, #pininggg, reader playing hard to get, man i love tHIS

show you what devotion is - ( @thvhoe ) boxer!jk, ballerina!reader, fluff, angst. you´re like his safe place, it´s giving exes to wannabe lovers, they deff like each other and jk wants to eat her uP but he´s wants it to be romantic and stuff, idk idk I liked itttt

you surprise him for his birthday - ( @nochukoo97 ) he´s so boyfriendddddd, this is so wholesome and cute

he can´t sleep bc he loves you so much - ( @onlyswan ) now THIS makes me want to drink bleach and die bc of how cute it is, THEY ARE SO IN LOVEEEE, there´s a lot of giggling, a lot of praising, a lot of disgustingly sweet loving talk after sex :´)))))) its such a good read i promise

fighting heart - ( @kooktrash ) boxer!jk, fluff, angst, he´s so stressed sldfkj, reader gets in a small accident and jk went crazy when a nurse answered your phone

make a wish - ( @euaphoric ) fluff, little smut, best friends to lovers, reader is so sweet, birthday surprise, jk shoots his shot, he only wants to spend his birthday with you

daft pretty boy - ( @jeonqkooks ) basketball cap!jk, classmates to lovers ig, see he´s smart but when he´s with you he gets nervous and forgets how to exist, he lowkey confesses and he´s sraightforward with itt, he´s got a hUGE crush on you lmao

ride - ( @ohjeon ) strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, jk is a fucc boy on campus, reader has tattoos and rides the coolest bike, jk has an instant crush, love at firts sight i would say, got him blushing and sweating lmao, this is an on going series but I KNOW it´ll be gREAT, I love it already

in your arms - ( @kookslastbutton ) e.r, fluff, smut, morning secs, waking up by his side for the first time after moving in

encore - ( @jjungxkook ) game designer!jk, he is cool af, has a fat crush on reader, this is just the teaser of the fic but I really like it

crave you - ( @7deadlysinsfics ) idol!jk, crack, smut, fluff, hispanic choreographer reader, texting, taejikook, jk is HORNY but he´s a softie too, he´s got a big big fat crush, strenght kink bc we all know he can throw her around like a ragdoll

pretty girl - ( @bts-trash-blog ) smut, tattoo artist!jk, chubby reader, THIS IS ITTTTT, he´s tall, dark and handsome, flirty af too, "pretty girl" stFUUUU, they both want to fuck so he shoots his shot at the tattoo appointment

easy - ( @itsamejin ) angsty, fuckboy jk, bet!trope, jk plays you so he can get his rent paid, i read this one a lawwngg time ago and decided i was an angst loving hoe

Inevitable - ( @ahundredtimesover ) angst, fluff, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, baseball player!jk, dad!jk, parents au, you break up with jk years ago after you got pregnant bc you wanted him to follow his dreams and now he´s back home just to find out there´s a boy who looks just like him.. this is a masterpiece, honestly one of THEE best jk series out there, it has it all fr, the angst is angsty and the fluff is FLUFFY, i love it sm i´ve read it 3 times and never get tired of it

finish line - ( @bonny-kookoo ) fluff, nerdy!jk, racer!jki loooooveee itttttt, so cute, so fluffy, this blurb uGHHHHH, just read the whole thing pls

ungodly hour - ( @explicit-tae ) crack, smut, fluff, college au, broke college student!reader, lowkey slutty!reader, jk is thirsstttyyyyy, simping atp, "who´s dick do i have to suck for a hulu account?" this series is honestly so funny ksjakskjs

disney + and bust - ( @1kook ) angst, fluff, smut. yall already know i love to see man crying and begging for forgiveness :p, so kook is ur succesfull "app developer" bf and he says some very hurtfull things to you out of anger

rattled - ( @gukslut ) complete series, single dad au, angst, smut. honestly? one of the best fics out there. I read this a long time ago and i´m still in awe. The way this is written makes you feel every word. also, the plot is so so unique. i love it.

ceo au / sugardaddy au / rich bf au / coworker au

Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but it didn´t work, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

break up au / cheating au / fuckboy au

night after night - ( @brown-bi-beautiful ) smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it

seven plus one - ( @jvngkoos ) smut, angst, they break up for like a week and that shit got him SIMPING fr, standing under the rain begging and stuff, the man is obsessed, we love it

pwp / fwb

you good?? - ( @mono-moonchilds ) drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak

afterglow - ( @elitekook ) smut, fwb!jk, slight possessive!jungkook, dirty talking, degrading nicknames, but he cares ok, he´s trying to get out of the friend zone

come sit on my lap - ( @euphoricfilter ) pwp, lots of praisingg, they way this is written is good yall, "use me" , “so polite” shUT UPPPP im literally blushing, AND he is also cute at the end?? i hate it heREEE :´)

he has a lot of cum - ( @euphoricfilter ) boyfriend!jk, the title I- , he DOES have a lot of cum, lots of stamina, lots of everYTHING, and on toP of those small details, wdym he wants to see how many times he can cum in you before it´s too full and it starts to spill????? somebody stop this man

riding jungkook´s nose - ( @euphoricfilter ) we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease

fucking in the gym - ( @euphoricfilter ) this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors

wicked - ( @noteguk ) smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading

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bee-the-loser-recs · 2 months

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☼ My Mark One-shot Fic Recs ☼

𖤓 Send in the clowns By @smileysuh 10.6k, Haechan|Mark|Jaehyun x reader, college au, frat boys NCT, best friend Jungwoo, friends to lovers, karaoke friends, smut, polyamory, slight fluff, Halloween parties, dressing up

𖤓 Roommates By @smileysuh 8.3k, Mark x reader x Haechan, college au, frat house NCT, best friend Jungwoo, polyamory, smut, stoners, getting high together, slight fluff, mentions of Jeno having a crush on reader

𖤓 Sunday kind of love By @smileysuh 35.8k, college au, frat boys NCT, slightly dorky and loveable Mark, study partner Jungwoo, long term crush, mentions of Halloween parties, smut, fluff, soft/inexperienced reader, extreme pining

𖤓 Operation: First Kiss By @ncityrave 4.4k, non-specified au, established relationship, first kiss between the couple, fluff, slight angst, getting advice from other members

𖤓 No one but you By @loserlvrss 1k, established relationship, slice of life, drunk moments, taking reader home, mentions of alcohol, fluff

𖤓 Perfect little toy By @loudstan 13k, magical & supernatural au, werewolf Mark, witch reader, sex shop owner reader, smut, imprinting, slight fluff, shop partner Svt Jeonghan, some angst

𖤓 Jealousy By @yutaholic 22k, non-idol au, reader & Mark's parents are dating, Mark & reader are in love, angst, trying to break up their parents, slight fluff, almost being step siblings, messy, smut

𖤓 Come back to me By @bloodmoonmuses Established relationship, retelling their first meeting to Jonny & Haechan, cute, fluff, meet cutes, enamoured with one another

𖤓 This is (not) easy By @mrkis 13.2k, college au, friends to fwb to lovers, slight miscommunication, smut, fluff, angst, mentions of reader hooking up with Jaemin, crack humour

𖤓 Just between us [part 1] & [part 2] By @mrkis 9.2k & 14.4k, established relationship between Yuta & reader, inviting Mark to join them, smut, mentions of Winwin being included in their dynamic, slight fluff, teasing, discussions of the rest of NCT having crushes on reader

𖤓 Gelato By @hazyhae 14.4k, unspecified au, non-idol au, plug Mark, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, weed use, friend Renjun, reconnecting after years

𖤓 Roomie high By @hazyhae 3.8k, stoner!roommate!Mark, roommates to ??, weed use, looking for a weed friendly roommate, friend Haechan, pet names

𖤓 Baby fangs By @starlightkun 26.7k, fantasy au, modern magical creatures au, sphinx reader, basilisk Mark, older women/younger man, teaching him how to use his powers, fluff, teasing, age/MILF comments, very suggestive comments

𖤓 Elevator pitch By @luvhaos 9.1k, college au, frat au, frat house NCT, friends hyping up Mark, fluff, slight miscommunication trope, angst, alcohol use/underage drinking

𖤓 Triple Lee; naughtier the better By @p4p1l0nn 9.1k, Mark | Haechan | Jeno x reader, non-idol au, stoner au, plug Haechan & Mark, stoner Jeno & reader, roommates, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Keep talking to me By @starillusion13 7.1k, non-specified au, polyamory, slight angst, fluff, smut, reader is ditched by a friend socially, a night in together, romance

𖤓 Trust me not By @starillusion13 9.1k, Boss unit x reader, mafia au, angst, slight fluff, keeping secrets, anniversary surprises, themes of betrayal, getting shot, open ending

𖤓 Foreign swaggers By @starillusion13 8k, Jonny | Jaehyun | Mark x reader, brother's best friend au, Taeyong is reader's brother, shared vacation, smut, fluff, polyamory, enemies to friends to lovers, drinking

𖤓 Salted caramel By @lucyandthepen 20.3k, college au, barista!Mark, both reader & Mark are down bad for each other, teasing from friend group, jealousy, constant teasing from Haechan, smut, fluff, other Dreamies mentioned

𖤓 What's mine is yours By @smileyerim 4.9k, non-specified au, long term pining, drunk confessions, admittance of feelings, fluff, slight smut, getting drunk together

𖤓 Temporary flag girl [part 1] & Back again [part 2] By @babbymochiiii 1.2k & 1.2k, street racer au, street racer Mark, comedy, reader subs in as a flag girl, slight fluff, fun dynamics, comedy

𖤓 Midas touch By @martiniblues Short drabble, spiderman!Mark, established relationship, teasing your partner, fluff, mentions reader's attraction to a fictional character, down bad Mark

𖤓 Spidey boy By @martiniblues 2.9k, spiderman!Mark, established relationship, trying to get Mark to confess his identity, slight fighting, reader needs saving, cat-calling, creepy dude, pet names, fluff

𖤓 Quarantine Chronicles 1, part 2, part 3 By @domjaehyun 28.5k & 55.3k & 43k, Quarantine au, Jaemin | Jaehyun | Jungwoo | Johnny | Mark | (Jeno | Haechan in part 3 only) x reader, roommates (except Mark), friends with benefits situation, lots of tension & flirting, smut, slight fluff, crack, Jaehyun & Mark have actual feelings for reader

𖤓 Surviving no nut November By @domjaehyun 28.8k, Haechan x reader x Mark, college au, friends to lovers, no nut November challenges, smut, trying to trip them up, teasing, slight fluff, weed consumption, pet names

𖤓 Kiss you right now By @domjaehyun 6.9k, college au, best friends to lovers, pining, Mark really wants to kiss reader, smut, fluff, really cute

𖤓 Play with me By @domjaehyun 4.6k, college au, best friends to lovers, weed use, stoners Mark & reader, late night drives, high sex, smut, fluff

𖤓 Teach me By @domjaehyun 3.3k, Mark x reader (ft. Yuta), non-specified au, established relationship, Mark asks Yuta for help in being rougher, smut, switching up the dynamics a bit

𖤓 10:12pm By @daydreamingyuta 200, drabble, established relationship, fluff, borrowing clothes, just really soft and adorable

𖤓 Baseball (& Other disasters) By @tqmies 10k, college au, friends to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, baseball player Mark, assistant manager reader, fluff

𖤓 Fever pitch By @nctsworld 8.4k, pro baseball player Mark, meet cutes, small accident, getting hit by a ball, fluff, smut, relationship development, best friend Chenle

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alltheirdamn · 6 months

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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luvsellie · 2 years

Text

TONIGHT YOU ARE MINE [s. neteyam]

pairing neteyam x metkayina!fem!reader

summary fed up with his siblings stealing you away while the sun shines, neteyam decides it's best to see you during eclipse

wc 1.2k

warnings mentions of jealousy, probably littered with grammatical errors (oops)

note first actual neteyam oneshot 😋 it took me WAYYYY too long to actually finish this. i must admit i’m a bit embarrassed lol. also this is heavily inspired by this song !!

glossary yawntutsyìp (darling), skxawng (idiot), oel ngati kameie (i see you)

neteyam wasn’t jealous. he wasn’t. he swore to both you and himself that jealousy was something he felt a lack of, always trusting in you and the relationship you both upheld. he took great pride in not having experienced the pesky emotion. but now, as he stood watching you from the shore of one of the reef’s many beaches, he was trying to force down the bitter feeling that caused his jaw to tighten and stature to straighten.

the na’vi stealing your attention away from him weren’t even strangers. neteyam felt more betrayed that you were making more time for his siblings than you were for him. he supposed he could join in on your fun, integrate himself into the smiles and laughter, but he wanted time with you and you alone. so as he turned away, gears beginning to turn in his mind, he worked out a supposed better moment to approach you.

“there you are! i’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

your words carried a lilt to them, and you wore an exhilarated smile as you walked up to neteyam, reaching for his hand in earnest.

“that’s funny, ‘cause i’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he replied gingerly, his lips pulling into a grin similar to yours. he took notice of the way you were practically bouncing on your heels as he began to tug you in the direction of the water.

it was just after eclipse, and you could sense that his family (or parents in particular) would be worried about him, but you didn’t question when he said, “come with me.”

his braids fell past his shoulders as he walked, and you squeezed his hand tenderly as water started to lap at your ankles, the waves pooling around your feet. out beyond the beach, the reef glowed with bioluminescence. you had always thought it to be prettier now than when the sun touched it.

“where are we going?” you asked.

neteyam shook his head, smile refusing to feign or falter. “you’ll see, yawntutsyìp. we’re not going far, just…out.” his tone of voice was stoic, and a small part of you thought there might be more to his answer than he was letting on.

“just out,” you repeated, hyper-aware of the way his hand felt in yours. “i like the sound of that. it has been a while since we have been together. alone.”

scoffing out a laugh, neteyam nodded, stealing a glance your way as you both walked along the shoreline. “indeed it has. you’ve been spending all of your time with my brother and sisters.”

you frowned at his words, mentally recalling your activities throughout the day. much to your dismay, neteyam was right. “they’ve required my attention; their breath hold is getting longer and longer each time we practice,” is all you told him.

“yes, but i require your time too,” neteyam drawled, his face morphed into an expression of longing. he pulled you to a stop. “you’re so distant when the sun comes out. why don’t you let tsireya take over. just for a day. i miss being with you.”

lips stretching into a soft smile, you released neteyam’s hand before bringing both your palms to his freckled face. his cheeks were warm against your skin as you said, “you’re with me now. and yes, i can talk to tsireya. she will take over tomorrow’s lessons.” after a slight pause, you stepped closer to him. “there’s no need to be so jealous, ‘teyam.”

your lover rolled his eyes, large hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them from his face. his thumbs smoothed over your knuckles as he said, “i’m not jealous. just…”

“envious of your siblings?” you finished for him, a teasing smile stretching your lips.

neteyam gave you an unamused look, but you noticed the way he was biting back a grin. “you’re such a skxawng.”

“says you!” there was no point in trying to hide that some part of you found it humorous and sweet that neteyam was jealous of his siblings for ‘stealing you away.’ you found it to be quite cute.

instead of trying to find a proper rebuttal to your intended banter, neteyam only sighed and guided your hands to rest behind his nape, his own fingers finding themselves latched to your hips. your front pressed against his, and he sighed as his amber eyes met yours.

intimidated by the sudden closeness, you found your insides twisted with anxiousness. in your peripheral, you noticed the way neteyam’s tail flickered behind him.

“what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. his gaze consistently jumped to your mouth as he awaited your response.

hit by the abrupt urge to kiss him, you shook your head. “ask me when i’m not distracted by your presence, okay?”

neteyam grinned, and you caught sight of his elongated canines as he stroked the outline of your jaw with his right thumb. “when are you not distracted by my presence, yawntutsyìp?”

giving him a disgruntled look, you rolled your eyes, leaning into his touch regardless of your annoyed facade. “just shut up and kiss me, skxawng.” using the heels of your palms, you gently urged neteyam closer and pressed your lips against his, instantly losing yourself in his taste.

your mouth moved with his, fingers splaying and threading themselves into the roots of his braids. he was so close, and yet you wanted him closer, forever engraved into your skin and mind and soul. as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you moaned quietly before pulling away. neteyam followed suit, though, and you found yourself exhaling as his mouth began to trail the column of your neck.

“neteyam,” you said, failing to steal his attention away from the marks he was branding onto your skin. “neteyam.”

he breathed heavily against your throat. “what?”

“people…” you started, mind clouded with the sensation of his warm tongue. “people will notice marks, neteyam.”

“good,” he regarded with no hesitation, placing chaste kisses on your jawline. “let them notice.”

you let out a strained whine, your eyes locked on the blazing stars above, hands sliding down to his biceps. “my parents will notice. yours will too.”

at this, neteyam finally pulled back, his gaze lidded. his head tilted ever so slightly to the left. “what is so bad about them noticing?”

exhaling through your nose, you shot him a pointed look before shifting yourself against him. you rested your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “there’s nothing distinctively wrong, i suppose. everything about this—about you—just makes me nervous. or, rather, excited. my mind and senses feel tuned to a hundred percent when i’m with you. i have never felt this way. i think i am scared to express whatever this is.”

neteyam’s gaze softened with understanding, leaning down to rest his chin atop your head. he embraced you tightly—to which you were quick to do the same—and he said against your hair, “i have never felt this way either.”

you pulled away, just enough to properly look at him. “oel ngati kameie, neteyam. oel ngati kameie.”

he did not hesitate to say the phrase back, his fingers splaying across the small of your back. “i see you, my love.”

neteyam let the words hang in the air, their weighted meaning bringing heaviness to your heart. and it was at this moment, as you both stood facing each other, skin against skin, that you deemed the entire sully family to be a gift from eywa herself—it had never been so clear to you than it was now.

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lyssasdrafts · 6 months

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ENCHANTED — azriel x reader

includes: strangers to lovers, love at first sight, autumn court!reader, lucien and eris being protective brothers

“i’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, i was enchanted to meet you.”

azriel felt out of place. he knew he didn’t belong here, trying not to give it away as he kept adjusting his new coat. he didn’t know what to think of being dragged to this formal event — a party at the autumn court.

he wasn’t here to make friends, he needed to come with rhys to gather information, to be allowed to sneak into the autumn court’s palace. no one here needed to know about his upbringing or what he’s done, though it was hard to ignore the way people stared at his illyrian wings.

rhys would be here too, but he was busy keeping track of eris and the high lord to help azriel navigate this. this was his job, he was a spy.

the autumn court felt lifeless, even if it was your home. sometimes you’d wondered what it was like outside these four castle walls. a part of you was excited for this ball, even if you’d been told they were typically boring. it had took a lot of convincing for them to let you out, and you still had your older brother by your side. “stay close to me, y/n,” lucien insisted, “and tell me if you need anything.”

azriel’s eyes had met yours once he walked into the room. he let himself stare for a moment too long at how graceful you’d looked. he suddenly starts to hear his own heartbeat before he starts thinking about the person standing next to you, it clicked after he heard the way you were addressed and how you called lucien your brother.

rhys whispered in his ear, “there’s another vanserra?” and azriel shook his head. how come he’d never heard of you? or worse, had the chance to meet you? with rhysand’s nod of approval and the wink his friend gave, he approached you.

“i didn’t know you had another sibling, lucien.” his shadows seemed excited, and he tried to keep them quiet. he looked right into your eyes, ignoring the person he was even addressing. “i didn’t know beron had another child…”

“he’s not fond of me,” you say to break the tension. you blinked a few times, taking in the figure of the man in front of you.

you’d never left the autumn court. you watched as your older brothers were allowed to leave to wherever they wanted, how lucien would run off to the spring court with tamlin, while you had to stay and tend to the castle.

if this is what people looked like in the other courts, you were missing out.

azriel reached his hand out to you, his voice softened, “then may i have this dance with you?” you looked at your brother, pleading in your eyes to let you have this night, and he nodded. something felt like he’d trusted that azriel was a good person. he mouthed something about being careful and to go.

you thanked the mother, knowing that your father or anyone else from the court would’ve turned azriel away immediately. you took his hand and smiled before he lead you away.

locking your fingers together, his other hand reaches your waist before the music starts again. you were impressed; you could tell he wasn’t experienced with dancing in a ballroom, he didn’t have the same training you did, his movements were stiff and his steps were careless. but you could see that he was trying his best to move along with the music, his shadows dancing around too.

“so,” he began to talk over the music, “tell me, why haven’t we met before?” the question he’s really been wondering.

he had to pull you in closer for the dance, not missing the opportunity despite his nervousness. you responded, “i’ve never left the autumn court, unfortunately. where are you from?”

“that’s a shame,” he says quietly. “i’m from the night court, here on our behalf. you should pay us a visit.” he spins you around and you’re caught off guard by the last part.

he catches you, though, and holds you by the waist. “i promise we’re more interesting,” he chuckles.

you almost laugh at him, except you give him sidelong glance instead. “i highly doubt that,” you defend, but your tone says otherwise.

“then let me show you,” he mutters. “what’s your name, beautiful?”

you freeze again, taking a moment just to stare at him. the way his hair was parted but got in the way of his face, how his gaze felt like he wanted more than just to look at you, how he his hands were around you, making you drawn to someone in a way you haven’t been before. and he was calling you the beautiful one?

you cleared your throat, “it’s y/n,” before you add a smile.

he nods at you, the secret autumn heir. he repeats your name and watches your reaction, seeming amused when you look up at him again. you can feel rhysand and your brother’s eyes on you, they were watching you thoughtfully from a distance. did you seem interested in azriel? were you getting close with him?

he notices you tensing up, grabbing your hand again and continuing where you’d left off with the music. azriel twirls you around once more, except this time he missteps, stepping on your foot instead. you winced, “do they not give you dance lessons at the night court?”

“i’m so sorry for that,” he stops, standing still in front of you. “you could probably tell it was my first time…” he softens again, “are you hurt?”

“your foot barely touched mine, it’s okay,” you laugh. you’ve definitely seen worse princes and suitors. “i should talk to your high lord about those lessons, then.”

“they do offer them…” he starts. “it’s just… not part of my responsibilities.”

you blink at him. someone with a connection to the royal line who hasn’t gone to these parties? “what is your job there?”

“i’m the night court’s spymaster.”

“spymaster?” you repeat in a whisper, tilting your head.

his shadows surround the both of you, almost trying to make this moment feel more intimate. you thought about the excitement he must feel, being able to sneak off and go wherever he wanted. you know it wasn’t an easy job, but a part of you envied that his life was probably full of mysteries and exploits. perhaps that was how azriel already came across your brother before you’d met.

you wanted him to stay in the desolate and empty autumn court for longer. you wanted him for yourself. a possibility sparked in your eyes and you looked at him with some kind of disappointment. did he have someone waiting for him at the night court? was he already taken?

in that moment, you wished to the mother and the cauldron for nothing else, but for you to be able to have this. even just a moment of freedom and openness with this… stranger.

he’d slowly felt entranced by you too, wanting to learn everything about you. how did you feel being kept a secret? did you want to see the night court… with him? he wanted to hold onto you tighter, as if beron decided he’d had enough and wanted to take you away.

“my brother… he’s probably waiting,” your voice sounds flat. azriel hadn’t realized how much time passed, how many steps you’d travelled around the ballroom during your conversation before you had stopped.

“y/n,” you hear a sharper voice calling for you. it wasn’t lucien, who you could try to convince with a pleading gaze and sulk, it was eris. he had stepped in to cut your night with azriel short.

“i think they want me to go back,” you say. “and your own high lord is probably waiting too.”

“will i see you again?” you try not to sound desperate. this feeling had been one that you’d never thought of before in all your sheltered years living at your family’s expense, a puppet for the autumn court. you’d felt flustered, like you were a child again, for the first time. there was an eagerness, like the thought of romance had brought back your hope.

azriel’s frown matched yours, you noticed the flash of disappointment in his eyes. he hesitantly pulled his hand away, “thank you for dancing with me, it was a pleasure, y/n. i hope you know you’re always invited to the night court. i will talk to rhysand to—” he stops himself. “i really hope i can see you again, too.”

his shadows were dispirited, looking sad as they left you. azriel he bowed his head at you, grabbing your hand and placing a last kiss.

you stop him before he walks away. “i never asked—” you say. “what’s your name?”

“azriel,” he gives you one last wink. “azriel shadowsinger. i hope i’ll see you around.” a smile at the thought of you escaped from him.

“shadowsinger,” his name leaves your lips. you whisper it, recalling the image of him in your mind. you didn’t know how long it would take for you to see it again, or if you ever would, but mother-blessed you wished to.

“it was enchanting to meet you.”

#— love lyssa #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar fluff #acotar angst #acotar azriel #night court x reader #inner circle x reader #inner circle x you

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formulaforza · 1 year

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—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. spring and the lovely silence of growing things. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 7.6k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: oral (m receiving, rough), spit, hair pulling, drunk drunk drunk get crunk

“Goodnight Arthur,” you said, lingering behind as your family started off down the road in the opposite direction that he and his were.

Your dress, long and linen, blows in the evening breeze and draws goosebumps to your skin. Your hands clutch your phone and a small purse, the cross body strap wrapped around your hand three times. Your ponytail sways with your hips when you walk. Turning to Charles, you nod, purse a smile. “Charles.”

“Goodnight,” he replies curtly, perfectly polite.

“The two of you are still talking after a whole day together? Did Hell freeze over while we were out there?” Arthur laughs.

A strange silence, one that only you and Charles are aware of, swallows the lull of the cicadas in the streetlights. It’s early in the year for them, typically holding out on their spring song until a bit further into the season. Charles drags his feet on the concrete, drawing out every step to be a beat too slow. “Stranger things have happened,” he remarks under his breath, his middle finger picking at the cuticle of his thumb before shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Have they?” Arthur continues to poke fun at the two of you, at the unlikeliness of a quareless evening. You’re surprised, too. Never would have guessed a few hours earlier that the evening would end up the way it had.

(Five hours earlier)

He’s sulking and it's becoming pathetic. Every single thing about his body moves around the yacht like a kicked puppy, all sullen and blue and hosting another private-pity party. His sighs grow more and more dramatic, less and less patient with each moment that passes without someone feeling as bad for him as he feels for himself.

You knew, maybe better than anyone, how fiercely competitive he is, how much pressure he carries on his shoulders. You'd seen the highs and the lows of it all, and despite the underlying annoyance that was Charles, you still wanted what was best for him. It’s just human nature to hope.

This season has been beating him up, you knew, even if you didn’t follow it the way some of your friends did. Strategy has been shit, you’ve heard, luck somehow shitter. He’d talked such a big game before the start of the season, quietly confident and subtly cocky in a way that almost makes you believe he can predict the future.

Usually, you would relish in his annoyance, but today you’ve found yourself feeling oddly concerned. You refused to let him ruin the beautiful day, ruin the moods of your siblings and his. It’s the determination to save the day that leads you to the yacht railing, feet away from his brooding, lost in thought expression.

“You seem a bit off today,” you remarked, voice lades with a teasing tone, a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

He glances up at you, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “You always have such a way of pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” He retorted, but his annoyance is all bark, no bite, softened entirely by the playful glint in his eyes.

“Well,” you shoot back, minorly annoyed, massively amused. “It’s not everyday you look like a sulking child.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And always full of delightful compliments,” he replied, gaze lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he tears them away.

You smirk, lean in a bit closer. “You love it,” you taunt.

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Oh, do I now?” He quips, leaning in just enough to make your stomach sink. You feign indifference to his words, but your body betrays you, leaning in a fraction closer.

“I know you better than you think,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.

He chuckled again, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. There’s something so deflated about him. “Is that so?” He muses, breath grazing against your ear, making your pulse quicken.

You take a step back, attempt to find some sort of composure. “Maybe,” you replied with a playful shrug, not daring to meet his gaze.

He leans in, fills the space you’d just created, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re always under my skin,” he admits, a hue of vulnerability in his voice leaving you unsettled.

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his. “You love the challenge, though, don’t you?” You countered, tone serious now, hinting at something more, something deeper.

He hesitates, a flicker of emotion crossing his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Maybe I do,” he replied, voice low and suggestive.

The conversation drolls on, seconds between your words filled with charged silence. The subtle dance of glances and touches only adds to the tension, and you found yourself unable to break away, to return to the rest of the family on the upper deck. No, no, you have a feeling you’ll be going lower, even, farther away from them and closer to some private silence.

“Do you ever wonder?” he asks, voice soft and full of curiosity. You have no interest in entertaining his words.

“I don’t,” you reply, trying to keep your tone guarded.

His brows furrow, challenging you. “Really?” Charles questions, his skepticism evident.

You shrug. “It’s just easier this way, isn’t it?” you retort, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitter that he feels entitled to ruin something that’s working just fine.

“Easier?” He echoes, curiosity evident as he leans in even closer.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you meet his intense gaze. “Yeah, easier,” you say, the words spewing out with a touch of frustration. “It’s just a game.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any sign of vulnerability. You hope you’re talented enough to conceal them, that your secondary school drama class teacher taught you well. “You think it’s that simple?” he challenges, voice just painfully soft.

“It’s not simple at all,” you admit, guard slipping for only a moment. “But it’s just what we do. It’s comfortable, in its own way.”

He nods, seeming to understand your reluctance. “So, what?” He asks, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “We just keep using each other whenever we feel like it?”

A mess of emotions swirls inside you as you meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe,” you remark, defiant. “But it’s better than facing the alternative.”

He seems to consider your words, the wright of your unspoken history. “You’re afraid,” he observes. Charles has called you afraid a million and one times in your life; from a ponytailed scaredy-cat to a selfish coward, he’s checked the box on every synonym. This time, though, his voice isn’t teasing or raging red. No, it’s surprisingly gentle.

Your ears burn red hot. “I’m not afraid of anything,” you snap, try to push down everything just begging to boil over inside of you.

He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt of electricity, the fact that a simple touch holds more meaning than any words the two of you could exchange. You’re annoyed, now. Annoyed with him and the longing you refuse to acknowledge. It’s a powerful cocktail that you don’t want to begin to comprehend.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Not with me.”

You heart pounds in your chest as you resist the urge to lean into him, to seek some fucked up sort of comfort in his arms. Instead, you push him away, maintain a safe distance. “I’m not afraid of you,” you say, voice horribly hushed. “I’m afraid of what this could become.”

He looks at you, some indistinguishable mix of emotions, of understanding and frustration and something else. “And what do you think this could become?” he asks, voice tinged with an edge of desire.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to his proximity. “I don’t know,” you admit, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed. “But I don’t want to find out.”

He smiles like he knows something you don’t. It makes you crazy. “You’re always so stubborn,” he remarks, fingers moving from your hand to your jaw, brushing against your cheek. “Part of what drives me crazy about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away. The tension is palpable, unspoken words hanging in the heavy air.

“I could help take your mind off things,” you suggest, voice low and suggestive. “Just for a little while.”

He raises a brow, surprise evident in his expression. “Oh?” he replies, voice a mix of intrigue and amusement. You give him a playful smirk, leaning in a bit closer. You can play games, too.

“I can be pretty distracting,” you tease, fingers moving to his arm, tracing circles on the linen covering his arm.

He hesitates, you’ve got him torn. He says your name, attempts to steer the conversation back to the emotions you’re so clearly dancing around.

But you cut him off, not willing to back down. “Please,” you sigh, your voice full of longing and playfulness. “Let me take your stress.”

He puts his foot down. Protests weakly. “We can’t just ignore this.”

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue further. Deep down, somewhere unexplored, you know that this isn’t the right time. So, you take a step back, move to walk away. Before you can take another step, his hand is on your wrist, pulling you back to him.

His lips crash against yours in a fierce and desperate kiss, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moments. The motions that have been building under the surface finally finds an outlet, and you can’t resist the pull any longer.

You both give in to the passion, into the physical connection and the muddled emotions. It’s a moment of surrender, of letting go. For now, it’s enough. For now, you can avoid the conversation.

You’re no more than a few steps away from the stairs, make quick work of them, of the lock on the door to the master suite. You didn’t even know the doors had locks on them. You hope they’re half as soundproof as they are expensive, but you doubt it.

You’re already pawing for his cock, palming the chilly, half-damp material of his swim trunks before slipping your hand under the waistband, taking the fabric out of the equation entirely.

You look up at him, look for his reaction, check to make sure that his eyes aren’t harboring some sick softness to them. The whole point of this is to get the softy shit off his mind, to leave him so satisfied that he doesn’t remember wanting to have that conversation with you, that he doesn’t remember how shitty his season’s going and how he’s latched onto something that doesn’t exist.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth. “Anything.”

He whinges at your words, mumbles something to himself, cupping your jaw with his hands. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you roll your eyes, but then his thumb is on your bottom lip, firm and heavy. “This fucking mouth,” he grumbles.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, big and thick and warm. You run your thumb over his head, smile at the precum pooling there, spreading it around and watching the way his face twitches. You play coy, look at him with your biggest, most innocent doe eyes. “What about it?”

He rocks on his feet, moves himself ever so slightly through your hand. He either thinks you’re oblivious to it, or he’s completely clueless to his own actions. Either way, it’s hot, and you stroke him that little bit faster. “Wanna feel it,” he says, thumb still on your lip, sinking into your mouth, onto your tongue, pushing you down, down, down onto your knees.

The floor is cold, but you don’t care, so are his swim trunks. It’s hard, though, like most floors would be, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises by nightfall. You pull his shorts down, dick bouncing out of the waistband, twitching while he steps out of the fabric, kicks it to the side somewhere in the tiny room.

As you look up at him, a myriad of emotions wash over you. This dance is becoming so familiar, and yet, you’re surprised each time by the intensity of it. Even though you’d offered yourself, you find a way to be annoyed at how he uses you like this, turns you into a vessel to vent his stress and frustration. The other part of you, though, is so fucking turned on. Completely and utterly satisfied by the fact that you have this effect on him, that you can make him forget about his troubles, even if just temporarily.

His eyes meet yours, that same vulnerability still there. It’s a regular sight for other people, to be looked at like this by him. It’s not your normal, though. It’s rare, something that tugs on you, makes you wonder what he’s thinking, desire a level of understanding that goes beyond the physical.

You push those thoughts aside as quickly as you can, remind yourself that this is all casual. That you and he, this is nothing.

You spit into your hand, stroke it over his cock until it’s hard and wet and just crying for you. Your tongue trails a long stripe, from the base of his shaft to the head, swirling around his most sensitive spot. You’ve found yourself growing annoyingly fond of the noises you can pull from him. It’s a game within a game, pushing the limits to find just how pained you can make him sound.

His hands run through your hair, slow and smooth, gathering your hair into a soft ponytail. You move a hand to his, push it against your head as if to tell him–fuck me, Charles. Use me.

“Wait,” he says, and you pull off him with a pop.

“What?” You probe, irritated that he’s already got something to say.

“You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

You smirk, bite the inside of your cheek like you’re working through a real head-scratcher, putting on your best sarcastic tone. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

“I’m serious.”

Your shoulders recoil into a shrug, a laugh helplessly falling from your lips. “So am I.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, visibly apprehensive. This never would have been an issue in January, back when the only thing he did was be openly annoyed by you. No, it’s all different now. He’s got feelings, now, wants to fucking worry about you and care about you. It makes your stomach twist and turn and knot.

You roll your eyes. This is ridiculous, how many guys out here are stopping a woman from letting them do whatever they fucking want. It can’t be more than him, it can’t. “For fucks… you’ll know if you’re hurting me.”

He nods. “But how… will I know?”

“I don’t know… I’ll punch you in the dick or something.”

He laughs, a direct juxtaposition to his words. “You are not funny.”

You shrug, scowl. “I think I’m pretty funny.”

“I don’t know why you would think this.”

You purse your lips, puff a breath of air out of them, and hold up a single finger, pointing to him. “Fuck you,” you laugh. “I’ll tap the back of your leg,” you explain, demonstrating the gesture. “Is that good enough?”

His hands move through your hair again, fix his carefully crafted ponytail you’d messed up. “Yes. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, take his dick in your hand again and start stroking. “Can I…?”

He nods. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I mean… “ you mumble against his skin, “you just did but…” and then you take him again, hollowed cheeks and flat tongue.

“Jesus, you are insufferable,” he remarks, and you laugh around his dick. It makes him shudder.

You try to focus on the moment, on his fingers gently grazing over your skin, hands guiding your head with a mixture of need and urgency. You gag around his dick, choking on the thick shaft as it fills your mouth so perfectly. “Putain, fuck, so good,” he groans. You’d smile up at him if you could.

The ponytail he’d been so proud of was nothing but a knotted mess now, his fingers tangling in search of grip. You hope he forgets it’s you, that it’s anyone. That he fucks into your throat until your couching and gagging and spit drips down your face, tears prick at your eyes. You hope your throat hurts tomorrow, that you lose your voice and gargle salt water and he’s the only person in the world who knows why. You hope you have to tap out on the back of his thigh.

You come pretty close, the way he uses you like a filthy toy. Everytime you think you’re about to break, he pulls off your mouth, leaves you heaving for air, wiping spit off your face with the back of your hand. He leans down to kiss you once, hand under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his lips. You hope he tastes himself, knows just how good it is, how content you are with your life’s purpose.

“Pretty girl,” he says, and you hum against his dick. It’s not often you’re on the receiving end of praise from him. “Take me so good.”

You’ve learned to know when he’s close, exactly how his body reacts when it’s lost all sight of anything but finishing. His pace gets silly, all kinds of unsynchronized and messy. He gets really quiet for a minute, spends all of it fighting with himself before he finally accepts it, and then he’s loud. A mix of nonsensical languages and curses, of groans and hums and remnants of what sounds like it wants to be your name.

He’s a mess, and then he’s holding your head as close as he can, your nose pressed against the muscles of his abdomen as he bottoms out, drains himself into the back of your throat with a breathy, pained groan.

You swallow around him greedily, want everything he has to give, all his cum and all his whimpers. He thrusts in and out of your mouth a few more times, and then he’s pulling out completely, hands cupping your face, pulling you up to stand. He kisses you, hard, and you still haven’t caught your breath–neither of you have–but you kiss until you can’t anymore, until your lungs burn to be filled with something that isn’t him.

His thumbs wipe your face, the spit from your lips and the tears from the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, back arching to lower himself to your height.

You want to swat his hands away. Clearly, though, this is something he feels he needs to do. “Why?” you chuckle. “That was hot.”

He matches your laugh, but his is laced with uneasy concern as he continues to try to clean up your face, fixing your hair and kissing you again, this time all soft and sure. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah,” you pant. “You’re into it, though.”

You wonder if he regrets this, if he’s known all along the same way you have that this won’t end well, that it never would. His face mirrors yours, open mouth breathing and heaving chests and a mix of half a dozen emotions. You both know this is how it has to be, that anything more would be too complicated to manage. It stops you from the wonder. You hope it stops him.

He sticks his head out of the door a few minutes later, after you’d ducked into the stall-sized bathroom and properly fixed yourself, untangled your hair and tied it back securely into a ponytail with the tie from your wrist.

You laugh at him for it, push him out from behind and tell him to drop the high-schooler act. “Wait here,” he tells you, tries to close the door on you. He doesn’t hear you catch it, doesn’t turn back to see you following him up the stairs from a few steps behind.

You’d wonder why he doesn’t hear your feet, but, if he’d just done to you what you did to him, your ears would probably still be ringing, all full and overwhelmed.

“Charles!” Your Mom’s voice carries down the stairs just as his head appears on the second level. “You haven’t seen–” his ears blush bright red, head snapping back to you. Jesus, can we have some subtlety? “Oh,” your Mom laughs when she spots you a couple steps behind him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. Charles can’t look at you, he stares right past. “We were fighting, isn’t that right, Charles?”

“Oh?” She chuckles.

Charles’ eyes snap to you. He nods. “First rule of fight club, you know.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you look back to your Mom. “What did you need, Mama?”

“Just wondering if you want a drink,” she says.

“Only if you mix it strong,” you say, and your Mom is already setting off back towards the rest of the group on the top level. With silent understanding, you and he both fall back into your respective roles; the arrogant, fearless prick and the spoiled, bratty princess. It’s better this way. It’s better this way.

“Well,” you chuckle, pat him on the shoulder as you move past him on the stairs. “Aren’t you just a blushing bride?”

The anticipation in the air is palpable, all of you here in Ricky’s parents’ apartment–an added guest this year in sweet little Chiara. You’ve all watched the race here since before Charles could imagine this being his reality, the balcony providing a perfect overlook onto the iconic circuit. The sun bathes the track in golden rays, like even Mother Nature knows that it’s going to be a historic day.

Excitement crackles like electricity, sparking from person to person, igniting contagious grins and animated chattering. Your heart flutters with a unique blend of nerves and exhilaration, Charles’ undying Monaco optimism seeking into even your most pessimistic veins.

Antoine sets up his camera on the balcony, is interviewing half of you for Charles’ next YouTube video. You steal glances of your friends the entire time, feeling strangely sentimental about all the love in the room. On the sofa, Marta bounces Chiara on her knee, absentmindedly shakes a rattle in front of the infant, eyes watching the pre-race coverage on the television. Ricky, on the balcony, the first interviewee, beams with pride watching them. The guys all buzz with excitement, half of them glued to the TV, the other half carefully pulling tight the zip-ties on the now infamous banner, anxiously awaiting the start of the race.

You watch from beside Marta as the national anthem plays. She tickles Chiara’s feet, pulls little giggles from the baby’s lips. Your focus remains on Charles, though, his face on the screen. You don’t know how many laps you’ve seen him drive around this country, how many ups and downs he navigated in this sport, but you know that today feels different. You can see it etched into his features, the fire in his eyes and the resurgence in his confidence since Baku. It’s like he knows today is his day, that nothing can stand in the way, that the sun will shine on him and the champagne will spray.

The engines roar to life, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You move to the balcony, can’t bear to watch the start from a screen, knowing that it’s one of the most crucial parts of the next seventy-eight laps. Your heart pounds in sync with the rhythmic revving of the cars, and the world around you falls away as you focus on the starting grid. The lights illuminate, they're out, and the race is on.

Charles makes a picture perfect start, no. It’s better than that, better, because the crowd roars louder than you think you’ve ever heard as he catapults himself past Max and into the lead, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects.

With each passing lap, you expect the crowd to die down, but they don’t. You find yourself rallying with your friends, joining into the country-wide chorus of voices and cheers. Every maneuver, ever inch he gains on Max, fills you with excitement and awe. He’s like a force of nature, a breathtaking sight.

The laps wind down, and his lead over Max grows. You can’t help but let out a joyful whoop. He’s doing it. This is the day he shuts everyone up about the curse. Yesterday is the last day you get to tease him about it. The realization washes over you that he’s going to win at home, and your heart swells with pride.

The final lap approaches, and you hold your breath, moving inside, to watch the screen, to stare like your glare could will him to find an extra tenth. As he takes the checkered flag, a deafening roar erupts, reverberating through the streets.

Your friends join in a celebration, hugging and cheering as if you’re the ones standing on the podium. Antoine is giddy behind his camera, and you’re sure half the footage will be unusable with shaky hands.

You found pause in the celebrations to watch him get out of the car, all arms swinging and firsts clenched. He stands on the halo of his car, pointing to the Ferrar emblem on his chest, over his heart. He jumps off and moves to congratulate Esteban, only to be met with a hug from the other driver. Max joins them quickly, strong handshakes and hard pats on the back before any of them are taking their helmets off.

David Coulthard is waiting for him. Charles makes him wait, gets his bracelets and his watch from Andrea before picking up his microphone. “Charles, congratulations on your stunning victory! How are you feeling right now?” Your fingers find your lips, cover your smile and laugh. Charles has no idea how he feels.

“Thank you!” He grins, all young and dimpled, purely pure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think a giddy first-grader had just won the biggest race in the world. “I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s just… wow. I’m on top of the world right now, to be honest.”

He looks so tired and yet so, so full of life. Like the adrenaline is the only thing keeping him up, all sweaty hair and balaclava lines. You want to kiss him, to trail your fingers along every indent in his skin. “You led the race from start to finish, and it was quite a battle with Max. Tell us about your strategy and how you managed to hold that lead.”

“It was definitely not an easy race,” he says, still smiling. You’re shocked he hasn’t lost his English yet, he always does when he gets over excited. “Max is a great driver and I knew he would not make it easy for me. Our strategy was to be aggressive from the start. I tried to manage my tyres. I think it all paid off in the end.”

“Your victory today makes you the first Monegasque driver to win the Monaco Grand Prix since Louis Chiron in 1931. How does it feel to be a part of this historic moment?”

“It’s a tremendous honor. Louis is an inspiration to all Monegasque drivers, to follow his footsteps is truly special.”

“Fantastic, thank you, Charles. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He says, holds up a thumbs up as he walks away and winks. Well, he tried to wink. The inability to do so might be the least suave thing about him.

The screen transitions to the cool-down room, to Max talking Esteban’s ear off, lighting up with a smile when Charles enters. The camera focuses on Charles in the corner, setting his helmet and his towel down on the table in front of his name, drinking an entire water bottle in two gulps, opening another and taking up a conversation with the others.

Joris snaps a finger in front of your face. “Sorry, what?” You ask, eyes snapping to him.

“I asked if you want champagne?” he chuckles.

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

When you look back, they’ve already cut to the empty podium, announcing Esteban’s third place finish to a loud applause. He celebrates like he won the thing, which you admire. Next is Max, who is met with applause, but it's noticeably less than the roar that follows when Charles’ name is announced.

The room around you is half as loud as the rest of the country, laughing and screaming wild for Charles. Jo and Ricky pop open Champagne bottles on the balcony, send the corks flying to God only knows where, hastily filling up the glasses beside them and passing them out.

Even from blocks away, where he is just a red dot, where your friends arms are over your shoulder sipping champagne and humming along with the national anthem, you feel a strange connection to him, something beyond the bickering and annoyance. Something beyond the sex, maybe. Something just… something happy, or proud, or just plain soft, maybe. Soft like his smile while he gets drenched in Champagne by the two others on the podium.

(six hours later)

Joris’ knowing glances didn’t escape your notice, and it made you uneasy. You wondered if Charles was crass enough, if he has been sharing secrets about your little arrangement. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spin. The idea of anyone glimpsing into the tangled web that is you and Charles now made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the chatter around you, but your mind just keeps looping back to him. His laughter, his smile. His very presence seems to pull on you, and it doesn’t help that you know he feels the same way, that he has for weeks now. You quickly brush away the thought each time, unwilling to entertain the idea of anything beyond the surface of your friendship.

“You seem a bit distant tonight,” Jo remarked, voice pulling you back to the present.

You force a smile, hope he won’t detect the unease that drenches your demeanor. “Just a bit tired, I suppose,” you replied casually, averting his gaze, staring into the bottom of your glass as you spun the clear liquor around.

He didn’t push further, but the look on his face tells you he sees right through you, makes you feel that much more exposed. You take a deep breath, attempt to steady yourself, but the questions linger like shadows in the back of your mind.

The night wears on, and Charles wears your eyes, a near constant sightline from you to him. It was easy to steal glances when he looks like that, when his easy charm and infectious laughter draws everyone in.

You don’t dare confront the truth, not here, not now. It was easier to stay in the safe confines of what you knew, what you’d established, emotions locked away in a heart-shaped locket hung round your neck.

The party shows no signs of winding down, and you need air. You slip away from the group, out the back door to the curb where all the smokers hide. You found yourself drawn to the quiet of it, where it was just you, your thoughts, and the smell of tobacco.

With the distant laughter and celebrations faded into the night, you allow yourself to be candid, to admit the truth, if only to yourself. There was a part of you that yearned for something more, a part of you that longed to explore what might be with him.

But he was right. You are afraid, you are. Afraid of what it means to let your guard down, to open up to the unknown. The vulnerability that comes with the admission is daunting, shit straight from a horror movie, like a trap. You were standing on a cliff, a dangerous precipice that threatened to unravel everything you’d sloppily built. This life is held together with bubblegum and toothpicks, it can’t stand the shake.

So, as you stood there on the back step, you made a silent promise to yourself. A promise to stay safe, to guard your heart and keep your feelings hidden from him, from everyone.

You returned to the party, unable to fully shake the weight of what gnawed on you. The cocktail of emotions was overwhelming, and you found solace in the bottom of a glass. Joris egged you on, kept the shots coming, and Marta made it more fun.

However, as the alcohol flowed freely, your tipsiness quickly spiraled into something more intense. With each drink, your inhibitions crumbled into a reckless pursuit of distraction. Each shot pushed the turmoil down further.

Marta slowed down first, opting to be cautious on her first “big night out” since having the baby. She could focus on the company and the laughter you feared. Joris started sober, too, tried to keep an eye on you the best he could, but you were determined to lose yourself to the moment.

The music thumped loudly, and the energy of the party was infectious. You danced with wild abandon, uncaring of the curious glances and amused whispers that followed. The alcohol had stripped back any reservations, leaving behind a version of yourself you barely recognize, all carefree and daring and reckless.

Jo tried to reason with you, to suggest you call it an early night, but you were having none of it. “I’m fine, really,” you insisted, slurring your words slightly. “Let’s do another shot!”

He reluctantly agreed, but the more you drank, the more erratic your behavior became. You danced with strangers, laughed loud and flirted shamelessly, trying to fill the void with temporary connections. Amidst the sea of bodies, you caught the eye of a handsome stranger. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that instantly intrigued you. He moved with confident grace, and you were like a moth to a flame.

He made his way toward you, playful smirk on his lips. “I couldn’t help but notice you across the room,” he said, voice low and alluring.

You laughed, feeling the effects of alcohol emboldening you. “Oh, really? And what is it that caught your attention?”

He leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he mumbled, “Your smile. It’s as captivating as the stars.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. “Smooth talker, huh?” you teased, trying to keep up the playful banter.

He chuckled, his finger lightly grazing the small of your back. “Only when I’m in the presence of someone this beautiful.”

You grinned, enjoying the flirtatious exchange. “You know how to flatter a girl,” you replied, heart racing at his touch.

He leaned in even closer, the proximity between you sending sparks flying. “I can be even more convincing,” he said, voice low and seductive.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Is that so?”

He smirked, gaze never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “But you’ll have to let me prove it.”

A thrill coursed through you as the chemistry between the two of you intensified. You were well aware it was just a fleeting moment, a casual flirtation in the middle of a wild night out. But something about this stranger has ignited a spark in you, and you found yourself tempted to play along.

The two of you danced together, the electric energy between you creating an intoxicating allure. His hands traced patterns along your waist. You get lost in the moment, in the music, in the touch of a stranger.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked, and you laughed.

“No,” you replied, and abandoned your spot with him before he could protest any further.

At some point, you stumbled outside for fresh air, feeling the world spin around you. The cool night air did little to sober you up, and instead, it only dueled your recklessness. You leaned against the railing, teetering on the edge between exhilaration and oblivion.

Joris found you there, concern etched on his face. He calls your name, “Maybe we should call it a night. You’ve had enough.”

But you shook your head defiantly, a stubborn gleam in your eyes. “I’m not done yet,” you slurred. “I want more.”

He sighed like he knew it was pointless to attempt to reason with you like this, made you promise to stay put, told you he was off to get you another drink and he would be right back.

As he left for your promised drink, you found yourself swaying in your shoes, the world around you still spinning. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gain some composure, but the liquor is taking it’s toll. When the door opened, you opened your eyes again, met with Joris–no drink, but with Charles in tow.

You laughed. “Hey, Charles,” you slurred, grabbing onto his arm for support.

He looked down at you, a mix of surprise and annoyance crossing his features. “Are you alright?” he asked, glancing around as if someone would magically appear to care for you.

You ignored his question. “I want you to dance with me,” you demanded, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He frowned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. “You’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” he suggested, trying to lead you back inside, no doubt in the direction of a chair.

“No,” you pouted. “I want to dance.” You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, or that your coordination was shot. All you wanted was to forget, to lose yourself in the music and the movement.

Charles sighed, clearly exasperated, but let you tug him all the way back inside to dance. He keeps a cautious distance, as if he was worried you might fall over at any moment, which, granted. You very well might. You swayed and you twirled, laughing without regard for how ridiculous you looked.

As the music pulsed through you, you were suddenly stuck with severe guilt. You were angry at yourself for getting so drunk, for losing control like this. You were mad at him, too, annoyed by his incessant need to attempt to care for you, for never just letting you be. And yet, at the same time, you were so drawn to him and his soft eyes, to the concern and frustration and the way he cared about you even when you pushed him away.

The song changed. Something slower, more sensual. You dance closer to him and he hesitates, clearly unsure of what to do. You laugh, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense with restraint.

“We shouldn’t…” he started to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. It was messy and desperate, per usual, fueled by alcohol and unspoken emotions. He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his hands finding their way to your waist.

You pulled away breathless, looked up at him all defiant and bratty. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whisper, and it comes out far more vulnerable than you intended, all squeaky and cracked. “I can handle myself.”

He looked torn, his usual composure slipping momentarily, before reverting to his usual ways. “Someone fucking has to,” he finally spoke.

You wanted to protest, to push him away, but the words all get stuck in your throat. Instead, you lean in to kiss him again, fingers tanging into his hair. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all, to lose yourself in him and the way he made you feel. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Can’t believe I got your sloppy seconds,” he quips.

“What?”

“The guy who tried to take you home earlier,” he laughed. “Looked like a prick.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Him.”

“Yeah, you really hit it off with him, didn’t you?” Charles said with a hint of sarcasm. You struggled to read if he was joking or if he was just barely keeping his irritation in check.

You grinned, words still slurring. “Oh, you’re just jealous.” you shot back at him, leaning closer.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like I could ever be jealous of that guy.”

“You’re right,” you laughed, your body pressing against his as you stumbled slightly. “You just won the Monaco Grand Prix.”

The rest of the evening continues in much of the same way, with Charles having to play babysitter to a very drunk–and very handsy–you. He tried to keep his distance, to maintain some semblance of composure, but you made it hard constantly pulling him into your orbit.

At some point, you find yourselves alone on a sofa, the noise around you fading somewhere far off. You were giggling about something, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you said, “this is all your fault.”

He quirked a brow. “My fault? How do you figure?”

You Smirked, reaching up to play with a strand of his hair. “You’re the one who got me all worked up with that kiss earlier,” you said, voice low and teasing.

His cheeks burnt bright pink. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

“Oh please, Charles. You know exactly what you’re doing,” you said, voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’re always doing this, pulling me in and then pushing me away.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” He scoffs, turning his head to face you, knocking your head off his shoulder in the process. “You’re the one doing that.”

You feel a pang of guilt at his words. You know he’s right, that tonight is just the next night of you sending him mixed signals. It’s been going on like this for months, but you don’t know how to stop, how to untangle the mess. “I don’t mean to,” you say softly, defenses dropping for a moment. “It’s just… complicated.”

He nodded. “I know,” he speaks quietly. “It’s just hard. Trying to figure out where we stand.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I know. I do.” You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging in the air. You wished you could say something, anything, to tell him how you feel, but all the words are stuck. Instead, you reach for his hand, intertwine your fingers and look up at him, big pupils in the dimly lit room. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said softly, voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t either,” he said, his thumb stoking your hand gently.

The moment is interrupted by Joris, who appears from around the corner out of nowhere, looking half as annoyed as the two of you must. “There you two are,” he said, relief and irritation clouding his words. “It’s time to go,” he says, pointing directly to you. “You’ve had enough.”

You groaned, but you didn’t protest. You lean on Charles the whole walk to Joris’ car.

As you arrived back at your apartment, he helped you inside and settled you into bed. He tucked you in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sleep well,” he whispered, voice soft and tender.

You smile sleepily, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You too,” you murmured. He turns to leave, but before he could go, you grab his wrist, holding it tightly. “Stay,” you said, voice barely audible.

He hesitates for a moment, you can feel it in the air even with your eyes closed, can feel his heart beating in his wrist. Eventually, though, he gives in, slides into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you nuzzle into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, words still pathetically sloshed.

He chuckles softly, the annoyance in his eyes starting to fade. “Well, I am always warm,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood, to ease the awkwardness.

You giggled, snuggling even closer to him. “You’re my human heater,” you said, voice filled with affection.

As the minutes passed, you started to drift off to sleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. You could see the struggle in his eyes as your lids grew heavier, the depth of care for you he tried so hard to hide.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, hints of a sunrise beginning to push through the curtains, you find him still awake. He looked lost in thought, afraid, almost. Desperately, you wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong, but feared pushing him away more than anything.

You settle against his chest, listen to the sound of his heart beating against your ear, feel yours match it. Finally, exhaustion catches up to him, his body relaxing as he drifts off to sleep. As you lay there, you can’t help your tired mind and it’s delusions of a future where you don’t have to hide your feelings, where you can be together openly and honestly, and then you’re falling back asleep yourself.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 angst #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #cl16 #f1 smut #charles leclerc angst

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2hightocare · 6 months

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LOVE WAGER! 02

Synopsis: The concept of love resurfaces as you both agree to center your psychology project on the premise that love is a choice. You propose an intriguing idea to Jungkook: he must exert every effort to make you fall in love with him within a month, to back up his belief.

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. angst/romantic comedy.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, neglectful parents, mentions of depression, banter, cussing, ex girlfriends, flashbacks, jungkook low key being super mean and discarding people’s feelings, jungkook hard-key depressed, implications of sex.

a/n: hai… this is so long overdue— exams month is coming and I had the biggest writers block fr but here’s my beloved babies. Song of the chapter— “love is embarrassing” by Olivia Rodrigo.

prev chapter! series masterlist!

Love.

Love is an intricate subject in its own right. Scientists elucidate it through the interplay of three cerebral chemicals: noradrenaline, dopamine, and phenylethylamine.

That's how Jungkook perceived love. He didn't subscribe to the notion of butterflies in the stomach or the fluttering heartbeat as justifications for love. To him, love was a scientific phenomenon, a complex emotion akin to sadness or jealousy-if he could evade such feelings, he would spare no effort.

But why did his stomach churn as if his organs were performing tiny somersaults whenever he gazed at you a tad too long? You were engrossed in the menu, pondering whether to get a burger or a slice of pizza.

Seated beautifully in your loose red Formula One shirt, Jungkook couldn't fathom how you managed to make that oversized shirt look so good.

Jungkook's eyes dropped to the ribbon in your hair, wondering why someone who was a full-on adult looked pretty, adorable even-with a red ribbon tied into a beautiful bow contrasting your skin and eyes. Your long eyelashes entranced him. He felt his stomach do something, a turn? Maybe his stomach was upset-he thought to himself.

Jungkook couldn't believe he found himself willingly sharing a table with you at the same dinner two years ago, he almost killed you at. He had moved to Emberhill U two years ago, ever since he moved out from his mom's house. Jungkook's life had gone to hell, which is exactly what his mind would tell him ever since his mom got a boyfriend. To make matters worse, he now had step-siblings.

He hated every bit of it. He wasn't jealous whatsoever.

It was the fact that his mom seemed to forget he even existed in the first place. Jungkook was hurt. He tried not to dwell or cry about it since he was a big boy-that's what he told himself now, pushing twenty-two, but still, part of his already broken heart shattered more.

How could your mom forget about her child? How could she not care about her only flesh and blood? He never told her that ever. Talking about his feelings with his mom was like talking to a brick wall that nothing could pass through. Plus, Jungkook wasn't good at communicating or talking about his feelings anyway. He found it embarrassing to lay yourself out there for someone to be able to discard you at any given moment.

Jungkook's dad wasn't any different as wellbeing too busy with work to even call him to ask his son if he was okay or how school is going. But the calls or text messages never came. Jungkook was used to it. It was his everyday. It was more shocking when he did call, but he wouldn't know what that would feel like since he never called ever since the divorce. Jungkook knew the divorce wasn't his fault whatsoever. His therapist—that his high school counselor made him go to—basically talked his ear off about how anything that happened wasn't his fault, but still, it felt like it was.

Ever since everything went down, his parents seemed to forget they had a child, who still needed them.

One advantage of his situation was the freedom to do as he pleased without his parents' interference. However, the downside was their lack of concern for his activities or just him in general. Jungkook was certain: if his parents didn't love him, who else in the world would? So, he didn't believe in love. When the two people meant to demonstrate unconditional love failed to do so, he doubted anyone else would. He would like to say that it didn't affect him and it's been years since everything, but deep down it still did.

Jungkook experiences a pang of guilt every time he looks at you. Perhaps it's the way he behaved when he first met you, the influence of the romantic comedy in your hands causing him to lash out at you.

Something about your ribbons makes him feel that you’re too innocent and naive for this world—part of him wants to shield you from its harsh realities, while another part wants to disillusion you about the cruelty of the world and the disparity between love in fairy tales and reality.

"Are you done daydreaming?" You say, interrupting his thoughts. Jungkook shakes his head, attempting to banish his thoughts before raising an eyebrow at your curious doe eyes. "I wasn't daydreaming," he states proudly, prompting a scoff from you, a grin tugging at Jungkook's lips.

"It was either daydreaming or checking me out since you were staring at me for a hot minute, but I decided otherwise since you have a girlfriend," you quip nonchalantly before calling the waiter to take your order.

"First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, what if I was checking you out?" Jungkook challenges. He didn’t know why he enjoyed getting on your nerves—any other person he would probably flip off and never give them the time of day, but instead, here he was with you doing the complete opposite.

"What happened to the girl from the dinner?" You question, your eyes finally meeting his brown ones. A glint of something passes over his eyes before disappearing as quickly as you saw it—so you thought maybe you had imagined it.

"Who?" Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side as he leans forward, his elbows propped on the table. "the one you mentioned to me two years ago? The one you discussed intimately," you mimic his voice. Jungkook's smile widens, amused by your jest.

"If you want to know so badly, we broke up—well, she broke up with me," Jungkook clicks his tongue, observing your expressions closely. He notices the creases of your forehead whenever you are thinking or the way you bite your lower lip to contain a smile that’s threatening to come out, each time Jungkook says something dumb.

"Oh, let me guess, she wanted love letters and sweet words whispered into her ear," you mock him, knowing he said that he didn’t need to do any of that to keep a girl. "You’re annoying, Ribbons," Jungkook shakes his head with a low soft chuckle.

You watch him pick up the menu and start scanning the items as you observe him. You notice how his jaw clenches momentarily before relaxing, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek, making you wonder if you angered him—and if you did, maybe you should do it more often since he looked hot—

Record scratch.

Your mind was playing games with you the more you watched the raven-haired boy. The more you realized he was the epitome of the boy you imagined whenever you were reading a book, the dimples on his cheeks, the scar right above his cheekbone, and the mole underneath his bottom lip had you wanting to ask him for his whole life story.

He also looks like those cute love song playlists that had all your favorite songs in them, but you knew from the way he acts around you, it was definitely a hard no and maybe you were delusional after all. So you try hard to shove those ideas into the back of your brain as far as you could.

"I knew that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend," you shrug, prompting a gasp from him as he jokingly places a hand on his heart, as if you had just dealt him a mortal blow.

"Wow, YN doesn’t think I’m boyfriend material?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, shaking his head.

"You’re literally everything that's not boyfriend material," you throw your head back with a laugh, observing his widened eyes with amusement evident on his face. "Ouch," Jungkook scoffs dramatically.

"What makes you say I’m not boyfriend material?" he says, scanning the room for a waiter but finding none, before redirecting his attention to you.

"You don’t believe in love, that's one way to start," you point out, eliciting a hum of agreement from him. "What's that got to do with being a good boyfriend? I assure you that a good boyfriend isn’t necessarily head over heels in love," Jungkook says, as if imparting a valuable lesson, while your facial expression betrays you.

"The fuck? You literally hate everything related to love. Being a good boyfriend means doing cliche shit you hate doing so much, how could you possibly be boyfriend material?" you assert proudly, prompting an eye-roll from him.

"All that stuff is just superficial shit that everyone collectively agreed on. It’s just embarrassing how people put themselves go through all that just to make someone lik—“

"Love," you interject, earning yourself a glare from across the table.

"Like I was saying, I stand by the fact all those stupid romantic gestures are pointless. Society basically romanticized love and set up unrealistic expectations— everything just leads to heartbreak and disappointment," Jungkook continues, you watch how the hard expression on his face wavers to something more… sad, like he was talking from experience.

"Have you ever experienced love?" you inquire, not sure why since you guys weren’t even friends in the first place—the only reason you found yourself sitting with him willingly was because of psychology class.

"What?" Jungkook is caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Have you ever been in love?" you reiterate, observing his expression harden once more. "No, never, and I don’t plan to," Jungkook shrugs, going back to his usual cocky self in a blink of an eye, prompting yet another eye-roll from you, marking thirty-eighth.

You didn’t get the chance to reply since a waiter came to your table, apologizing for taking so long to get to us before taking our orders.

You and Jungkook decided on sharing a pizza, and you obviously ordered a coke, which got Jungkook joking about how he isn’t trying to make you choke again, which had the waiter shifting uncomfortably beside you both while Jungkook had an eating-shit grin on his face.

“That’s not what he meant!” You chuckled nervously, your face reddening, matching your shirt from how embarrassed you are.

“No, it’s okay, you don't have to explain,” the waiter said before excusing himself.

The moment the waiter was out of your line of vision, you turned your head to the boy who’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” You glared, your eyebrows scrunching. “What, you both just have a dirty mind,” Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face making you shift in your chair.

Jungkook's aura was unlike anything you’d ever stumbled upon, and you hated it. It made you want to know more about him than you should, the way he carried himself and talked had you questioning why? He wasn’t so different from other boys you had met, besides the fact that he spoke his mind as if no one was around, not caring if he hurt your feelings or offended you. It was refreshing in some way, but it still made you want to pull your hair out.

“Alright… let’s change topics, Mr. Anti-Romantic,” you say, watching his smile widen.

“What?” You stared at him, trying to think what could possibly make him smile that much. You were sure your face would hurt if you possibly smiled that much.

“Nothing, I just find it extremely hot when you call me that, it turns me on,” Jungkook said, leaning forward.

Okay, that’s not exactly what you were imagining him saying. Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling your heartbeat rise. The smile not leaving his face had you feeling hot, as if the room temperature suddenly increased.

“Uh… so, project,” you blinked rapidly.

“Yeah, project,” Jungkook agreed, smile still on his face as he saw your cheeks flush with a reddish color.

“So, any ideas about what our project can be about?” You said, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist and using it to make a ponytail, taking the ribbons out before tying your hair.

Two small strands fell from your face, tempting Jungkook's fingers to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He wanted to slap himself back to reality since he never in his life thought those thoughts, not even with Haneul, whom he dated for five months, setting a record. He still remembered the reason she gave him for breaking up. It was laughable.

“Jungkook, you don’t even look at me with love, and I know you said when we first met that it was only attraction, but I thought you would change over time the more we hung out,” Haneul whimpered, tears gathering around her eyes as Jungkook just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Because yes, he did tell her it was all attraction, and it’s still only attraction to this day for him.

“You don’t hold my hand or give me kisses, you don’t even give me flowers,” Haneul cried, her voice cracking with each word she said.

“I told you, I don’t do that stuff,” Jungkook said. He felt bad for her since he knew she deserved better, but he didn’t feel bad about not doing those things for her since he told her he wouldn’t and never would do them. And she agreed, so why was she crying about it now when she agreed to it five months ago?

“I know you did, but I thought you just… fuck, you haven’t even introduced me to your family,” a crack is heard from Jungkook's heart, but not for the girl in front of him crying her heart out, but for himself, because yeah, he had no family he could take a girl home to, since he had no home at all. He had a house, but it was as empty as he was.

“Haneul, I told you—“

“Yeah, that you will never do that! I get it, okay? I get it, but fuck, how can you not care? Do you not feel anything when it comes to me?” The girl wept more, which had Jungkook sighing.

“I like you, Haneul,” Jungkook replied. “I love you, Jungkook, can’t you tell…” she whispered, a choked sob leaving her lips as she looked up at the man who’s just standing in front of her like nothing.

“I’m sorry,” that's all Jungkook said… because what else could he say? It was either that or that he didn’t love her, but to not take it personally since he didn’t love anything?

So instead, he said the only thing he could muster without his voice cracking.

“Love,” Jungkook finally says, his statement catching you off guard, widening your eyes in surprise.

“Love? I thought you hated love,” you raise an eyebrow, perplexed by his sudden declaration.

“I do, but love is psychological. We can discuss how we, as humans, have the ability to choose whether we fall in love or not,” Jungkook articulates.

“That’s not how love works, Jungkook,” you retort, to which he responds with a disapproving nod. “It does, though,” Jungkook rebuts.

“It doesn’t. Love is not something we can choose and pick, it just happens,” you try to explain.

“You believe love just happens, but I disagree, respectfully,” Jungkook adds, causing you to tilt your head curiously, intrigued by his perspective. “I’ve held on for too long without being in love since I said I wouldn’t fall in love,” he concludes.

“That’s because you haven’t met anyone you actually want to try with… maybe you just haven’t met your soulmate,” you suggest, annoyance evident on Jungkook’s face the moment you mention the concept of soulmates.

“Soulmates don’t exist, ribbons,” Jungkook snickers.

“I beg to differ,” you cross your arms, adamant in your belief. “I don’t know what fantasy lovey-dovey world you live in, but soulmates are just made up,” Jungkook shrugs casually.

“Maybe you are right about the fact that you get to choose who you fall in love with since I know for a fact I would never fall in love with you,” you spitefully state.

Jungkook nods, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth that catches him off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that someone had just openly admitted they wouldn’t want to love him—reminding him of the kid he once was, desperately begging his parents to love him. But wasn’t this what he was trying to prove in the first place, that love was a choice? Then why did it hurt to hear you say those words out loud?

“Atta girl, finally got it huh,” Jungkook smirks, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. “Alright then, if we did do that for our project, let’s say we argued that love is a choice and it doesn’t happen. How do we prove that?” you question.

Silence fills the table as you both brainstorm ideas, trying to back up this argument.

“I got it,” you say, as if a light bulb just appeared on top of your head. Jungkook nods, encouraging you to continue.

“What if we spend a month with you doing absolutely everything to make me fall in love with you? And I mean do all that cliché, romantic shit I love that you hate so much. Since I know for a fact that I choose not to fall in love with you, we can discuss how, even if a person does everything right, you still get to choose who you love,” you explain carefully, ensuring he understands your proposal.

“It’s a good idea for the project; we could use ourselves to illustrate how we pick and choose who we love, like you said,” you try to convince him, giving him the benefit of the doubt after he convinced you of his beliefs. You knew you would never fall for him, even if he did everything you ever read in books and saw in movies.

“We can call it the Love Wager,” you finish, scanning his face as he contemplates the idea.

Jungkook’s mind races, unsure if he likes the idea or absolutely hates it. On one hand, it could earn him a good grade, given the strong rationale behind it, using yourselves as an experiment to support your argument. But on the other hand, the thought of spending a month doing everything he had vocally despised for the past five years gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Alright then, the Love Wager operation starts,” Jungkook agrees instead, while you clap happily. “Oh my god yay, this might give me an A plus,” you celebrate, giggling as Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story; I just hate psychology,” you say, to which he nods in response.

“Well, we have a month together, so start explaining why you hate it so much,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, and before you could reply, the waiter hurriedly returns to your table, apologizing for the wait, mentioning the kitchen’s struggle with the influx of orders. But you keep your eyes on the boy in front of you, who looks at the waiter, reassuring him it’s okay.

The smell of fresh, hot pizza fills your nostrils as you finally snap out of your trance, looking down at the pizza the waiter is sliding onto the table, cautioning you both that it is extremely hot. The waiter continues to place all the food you ordered on the table before leaving with a bow.

“I’m starving, oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he picks up a slice of pizza and takes a bite, ignoring the steam.

“How is that not burning your tongue, oh my…” you begin to say, but you’re interrupted as you take a bite of your own slice, immediately regretting it as you burn your tongue. “Ah, ah, ha,” you drop the pizza onto your plate, sticking your tongue out and fanning your mouth with your hand. A small laugh escapes from Jungkook as you shoot him a snarky glare.

“He literally just told you it was hot, ribbons,” Jungkook says, grabbing a napkin from the container and reaching over to wipe some sauce off your lips and face. The fanning from your hand halts as you stare at his focused face, feeling yourself heat up again, but this time it’s not your mouth—it’s your cheeks.

“Why did you just do that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, as he sits back down properly. “I’m starting my boyfriend material journey, you know, since the project?” Jungkook says casually, taking another bite of pizza, watching you in surprise as you shockingly observe him not being fazed by the burning food in his mouth, chewing happily.

“Oh… we’re starting right now?” you gesture to the table between you both, indicating ‘right now’. “Yeah, we only have one month, let’s make it worth it,” he says, diving back into his food.

God, this month was definitely going to be a roller coaster.

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pxob · 1 year

Text

angel eyes

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5524

Category: Enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, angst and fluff.

Warnings: Manga spoilers (if you squint), mentions of death, blood and injury and swearing.

Prologue

Kanae-sama and Shinobu-sama had taken you in as a child after a demon attack had brutally slaughtered your parents. From that day on, you harboured a deep resentment towards the foul creatures that had caused so much pain and suffering, not just to you but to countless others as well.

Despite the trauma you had endured, your gratitude towards the Kocho family never wavered. They had taken you in, provided you with a loving home, and helped you heal from the devastating loss of your parents.

While Kanao was timid and obedient, you were more like a replica of Kanae-sama's personality - kind, loving, and easy-going, except when it came to your deep-seated resentment towards demons.

Your bond with Kanae-sama was as tight as any sibling relationship could be. Shinobu-sama recognised your deep connection with her biological sister and would even let her strict personality slip around you. From dawn until dusk, you trained with Kanae-sama and shared meals with her every evening. You were inseparable, to the point where Shinobu-sama had to physically intervene to separate the two of you.

Until she died at the hands of Upper Moon 2. The news spread like wildfire, and you threw yourself into training with tireless resolve, determined to become the Tsuguko that Kanae-sama had hoped for.

Kanao and Shinobu-sama were worried about you day and night, and despite Kanao's silent presence, she never left your side. She was aware of the hole in your heart that may never be filled again after Kanae-sama's death.

A part of you, gone.

“You’re not going to like this,” Aoi said as a way of greeting. She was standing at the sliding door of yours and Shinobu-sama’s research room.

“Aoi-chan,” you looked up at her from your microscope. “What are you unhappy about now?” You teased.

“Oh, it’s not me who's going to be unhappy,” Aoi said, giving you a knowing smile. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity as you heard a pair of unfamiliar footsteps approaching.

Aoi stepped aside and introduced you to the boy. "This is Shinobu-sama's Tsuguko," she said, "She'll be giving you frequent check-ups, so please treat her with respect." Her words dripped with venom as she added, "And if you don't, I'll poison your medication."

The boy stood in the same spot where Aoi had been moments before, his impressive height looming over her. He donned the uniform of a demon slayer, and his muscular physique strained against the tight sleeves. As you observed him closely, you couldn't help but count the numerous scars that littered his body.

You also couldn't help but notice the unruly, unevenly cut hair on his head that resembled a rooster's comb.

“You’re fucken kiddin’ me,” were his first words.

You smiled in realisation, remembering clearly where you first met this boy.

Upon reaching the mountain top, you both were met with the discord of yelling and bodies shifting aggressively on the cobblestone path.

“This is for starin’ at me, ya yellow-headed freak,” the boy shouted as he grabbed the other young boy by his yellow kimono.

The examinees were scattered, murmuring, yet none intervened.

“I WASN’T STARING AT YOU!” He shrieked.

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Ya were, dickwad,” the boy replied, his fist raised menacingly.

Without hesitation, you swiftly made your way towards the boy, grabbing his wrist tightly.

“It’s rude to assault strangers,” you said calmly, a smile plastered onto your face.

"The fuck," he said aggressively as he tried to retract his wrist from your grasp, you tightened your grip even more.

The yellow-haired boy fled the moment he saw an opening, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembled uncontrollably.

“Let go, bitch,” he spat out, face turning red.

Kanao took a step toward him, a silent threat emanating from her.

“It’s okay, Kanao,” you said kindly, “Some people are unfortunate to not have been taught basic manners.”

The bystanders began to chuckle lightly.

"One day, I hope he learns to be kind," you said, twisting his wrist firmly. "Otherwise, his attitude will be the death of him." You then took hold of his elbow, manoeuvring it into a lock and guided him towards the ground.

A resonating thump followed as he hollered below you.

“YOU FUCKEN BITCH I’LL SLAUGHTER YOU!”

“Your attitude has not changed since then it seems,” you stood, slowly walking towards him.

He had grown an incredible amount in the short time since you last saw him, a clear indication of Himejima's rigorous training regimen and, most likely, his constant consumption of demon flesh.

"Thank you for bringing him here, Aoi-chan," you said, the boy was staring back at you with a bewildered expression. "You may go now," you added, dismissing Aoi with a nod of your head.

“Please come in,” you said, turning and leading the way towards the working desk, where there were two chairs on opposite sides of the table. “Please take a seat,” you gestured towards one of the chairs, noticing that the boy was still standing by the door.

"I'm not coming in," he declares, looking down the hallway, averting his gaze.

"Why is that? I won't bite," you joke with a friendly smile. But the boy remains rooted to the spot.

“What’s your name?” you asked politely.

“None of your business,” he snapped back.

“Okay, none of your business,” he scoffed at that. “I’m going to be putting my valuable time and efforts into you-”

“That was your choice,” he cut you off rudely.

Classic

“Himejina-san informed me all about your case,” You walked towards the cabinet, situated on the far side of the room, where you stored all sorts of medicinal concoctions. Your gaze scanned the shelves, searching for the specific one you needed, after a few moments of searching, you finally found the right vial and walked back towards him.

As you approached him, you noticed he was watching you every step of the way. You held out the vial and said, "I've created this specifically for your special case. It's designed to help mitigate any extraneous effects that may arise."

The boy's eyes narrowed sceptically as he glanced back and forth between you and the vial. He hesitated before finally speaking up, "What if you poisoned this shit?"

"Don't worry," you said. "It's completely safe.”

He took the vial and inspected it closely. "Should you ever feel overwhelmed with the powers of the demons you consume, this should help ease it," you explained. "I recommend that you drink a tablespoon every half day and come back to me every week to check in on your progress."

You took a step back from him and flashed a teasing smile. "And maybe then, you'll finally feel comfortable enough to share your name with me!"

His face contorted into an irked expression, and he turned to walk away upon hearing your comment. As he strode down the hallway, you noticed him tuck the vial into his pocket and observed his ears turning red.

A few days later, a group of three new demon slayers arrived at the Butterfly Mansion and were granted the privilege of staying there. You recognised each one of them from the mountain top of the final selection. Among them was the yellow-haired boy named Zenitsu, who seemed to recognise you even more. He took a considerable liking to you, constantly fawning whenever he catches sight of you.

But what surprised everyone was the presence of a demon among them. It was unprecedented to have a demon among the ranks of the demon slayers; however, despite this, you have taken a liking in investigating the demon named Nezuko.

Kanae-sama had a goal of eventually living in peace with demons. If Kanae-sama were here, she would have loved Nezuko, a sweet young girl who can easily be seen as a younger sister figure to almost anyone.

“Zenitsu-san, your drool is creating a puddle on the ground,” you said as you were training.

He sighed dreamily, “You’re so radiant, etherial, powerful-”

You promptly resumed your training as Zenitsu's words started to sound like white noise.

As he continued to ogle over you, another presence approached the training grounds. He stopped immediately upon seeing you training, his eyes scanning over your movements with interest.

He watched as you effortlessly destroyed every single bamboo target with just a few swings of your Nichirin blade. Your movements were so swift and precise, as if you were dancing through the air. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy and spite as he watched you move with such ease and grace.

He wondered how many hours of practice and dedication it must have taken to reach such a level of skill.

He could tell that you had been a Tsuguko for quite some time, likely honing your skills through rigorous training and practice. If you continued at this pace, he couldn't help but wonder if you might become a Hashira in a matter of months. And what was even more impressive was that you would be the second youngest among the Hashira, which made your potential all the more remarkable.

The thought of someone else reaching such a high level of skill and potential while he remained stagnant infuriated him. It stung even more because he had always wanted to impress his brother, the only person he ever truly wanted to please. But seeing your abilities, he couldn't help but feel like he would never be good enough in his brother's eyes.

You turned around, a smirk spreading across your face as beads of sweat rolled down your serene complexion. "Oh, didn’t see you there," you said with a chuckle. "I'm glad you came back."

Zenitsu's eyes snapped to where you were now looking and he yelped, "SCARY MAN!"

The boy turned to face Zenitsu and said, "Piss off, creep.”

His words made Zenitsu run to where his other two companions were within the mansion.

You headed towards the engawa, where a carafe of water was waiting for you. As you walked away, he couldn't help but survey the damage you had done to all of your targets. It was clear that you had accomplished it all without using any specific techniques, leaving him in awe. "How did you do that?" he blurted out.

As you finished gulping the water, swiping the rouge droplets from your chin you asked, “Do what?”

He pointed towards the targets, now reduced to mere fragments joining with the dirt on the ground.

You let out a small laugh, "How did I do it without using any breathing technique?" You walked towards his side, "You're quite observant. How about you tell me your name and I'll teach you a thing or two?" You teased.

"Genya Shinazugawa," he replied straight to the point.

You grinned and said, "I meditate for an hour every morning and night."

He looked at you with disbelief and asked, "Ya kidding, right?" He visibly deflated and continued, "Ya tellin’ me you sit on your ass and breathe for two hours a day? That's fucken ridiculous," his tone laced with disdain.

"You'll understand one day," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice, and then pivoted on your heel. "Let's start your check-up, Genya-san."

“Take off your shirt,” you instructed.

Genya stuttered in surprise, “What?”

As you reached for the stethoscope from the table drawer, you said, "I need to listen to your lungs and heart for any defects.”

“Oh.”

Respecting Genya's privacy, you continued facing the opposite direction as he removed his upper layers. You could hear the rustling of clothes and then the sound of them falling to the floor. Once you sensed that he had finished, you turned around to face him.

You couldn't help but marvel at his physique. At his age, he was unbelievably ripped with muscles and scars that seemed to accentuate his sculpted form, as if he was crafted from the finest quality marble. You rubbed your eyes, pretending as if something had gotten into them and then looked at him, only to find that he was already staring back at you.

“Please have a seat,” you gestured towards the chair beside the table.

He complied, appearing to be more cooperative than before. You pulled a stool in front of him and noticed him tense up, every muscle in his body taut.

You clenched your jaw, put on the earpieces, and carefully placed the stethoscope on his left pectoral, listening to the booming beat of his heart.

"Why is your heart beating so quickly, Genya-san?" You prodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Drank tea," he replied too quickly.

As you removed the stethoscope from his pectoral and stood up, you noticed that he was staring out the window.

"Are you nervous, Genya-san?" you asked, trying to provoke a response.

He snapped his eyes toward you. "Fuck no," he said, his voice tense.

You towered over him as he remained seated in the chair, observing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched and his hands balled up in fists. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly walked around to his back and brought the stethoscope above his scapula.

“Genya-san,” you said softly.

"What?" he said sharply.

"Your lungs aren't expanding and contracting properly," you pointed out, a clear indication that he was holding his breath. "I'm going to need you to take some deep breaths for me."

Reluctantly, he complied and you listened carefully to his breathing. His lungs seemed to be contracting more than they should for someone at rest.

You took a step back and removed the stethoscope, gaping at the size of his back. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to clear the improper thoughts that had crept into your mind.

He hastily gathered the clothes lying on the floor and put them on. “Has the medicine been helpful to you in any way?” you asked.

He responded with a grunt.

“I need you to respond verbally, Genya-san,” you insisted.

“Yes,” he snapped.

"Very well," you said, making your way to the table and focusing on the array of ingredients on your shelves, trying to regain your composure.

"You're healthy. I'll just need you to avoid drinking tea before our next check-up," you concluded.

You heard the sound of the door sliding opening. "Please close the door on your way out," you said delicately, not turning around to face him. He did exactly that, saying nothing but walking out of the room. You swore under your breath.

As he sped down the hallway, his mind raced and his heart pounded with a sense of urgency.

He knew he couldn't deal with you anymore. The thought of being trapped within four walls with you made his stomach leap, a clear indication of disgust.

Your soft spoken voice, loving eyes and kind touches had a way of making him feel at ease. He couldn't help but notice how you treated everyone with kindness, even those who mistreated you. It was intoxicating and he couldn't comprehend how someone could be so selfless.

Your angel eyes saw good in many evil, it was something that both repulsed and charmed him at the same time. He couldn't understand how you could be so forgiving and compassionate, yet he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

As he rushed out of the mansion, he bumped into a red-headed boy, barely registering his presence. The boy yelled something after him, but all Genya could think of was getting away from you. He needed to breathe, to clear his head, because the more he allowed himself to be drawn towards you, the more his carefully constructed plan to reach his brother began to crumble.

He knew he couldn't afford to let himself catch feelings for you. It would only make things more complicated and could jeopardise everything he had worked so hard for. But the more he thought about you, the more he found himself unable to resist your angelic nature.

Genya's frustration boiled over as he ran his hands through his hair, yanking on his locks in anger. "FUCK!" he shouted, lashing out and kicking a nearby rock, sending it careening into the trees.

Today was the day of another weekly checkup.

You were prepared, steeling yourself to remain professional and composed despite the tension that lingered between you.

As you waited for Genya's arrival, you reviewed your notes and made sure everything was in order. Despite trying to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

It was a little late, later than he had previously arrived. You tried to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that anything could have delayed him and it was better to wait patiently.

The sun had already set and the night stars were becoming prominent outside your window.

"Where is he?" you muttered to yourself, glancing at the clock on the wall.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the appointment, perhaps because of his stubborn nature or his reluctance to be confined in the medical room.

So be it, Genya.

Despite trying to distract yourself with training, your thoughts kept wandering back to Genya. It had been several days since you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder where he was and what he was doing.

But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your role as a mentor to Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu. You spent long hours helping them hone their skills and improve their techniques. Tanjiro, in particular, showed remarkable progress and you couldn't help but feel proud of him.

"Tanjiro-san, you're improving at an astonishing rate!" You praised him.

"It's all thanks to everyone here, including you," he replied with a grin.

One of the things that made you happiest was being able to help others. You had a big heart and always went out of your way to offer assistance, even when it wasn't necessary. Seeing others improve and achieve their goals gave you a sense of fulfilment that was hard to describe.

"You too Inosuke-san, well done!" You gave his arm a genuine squeeze, acknowledging his effort.

Inosuke mumbled something behind his mask, but you could sense the delight in his tone.

Zenitsu, on the other hand, couldn't help but interject.

"But what about me,” he whined. "Am I improving too?"

"Well, Zenitsu-san, you're definitely...trying," you said diplomatically.

Zenitsu pouted, clearly hoping for more praise, but you knew he had a lot of work to do before he could truly become a skilled demon slayer.

Despite his flaws, however, you couldn't help but feel a soft spot for him. You looked around the training grounds and realised you needed to get back to your research.

"I'll leave you all to your training," with a wave goodbye, you turned and walked away while they bowed in response.

As you strode, you heard the sound of yelling and pleading coming from inside the mansion.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickened your pace and soon noticed droplets of blood on the hardwood floor. Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your sword.

Running, you followed the trails of blood and desperate cries, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Finally, you skidded to a stop, frozen at the sight before you.

Genya had always been aware of the risks that came with being a demon slayer. But this particular demon had been stronger than he had anticipated and had managed to inflict injuries that were more severe than he was used to.

Genya relied on consuming the flesh of other demons to heal his own wounds, but this time he had not been successful in consuming a single thing from the demon. This lack of regeneration made the wounds even more excruciating and difficult to deal with.

Despite the pain, his first thought was to find you, the medical expert who could treat his injuries. He knew that he needed your help to heal and get back on his feet. With that in mind, he had managed to make his way to the mansion, gritting his teeth through the pain as he focused on reaching you.

Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi trembled in fear as Genya strode through the gates of the Butterfly Mansion, paying no heed to his open wounds.

He was stubborn to reach you. He trusted only you to treat him or even touch him.

Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving a trail on the floorboards of the mansion as he made his way towards your office. He ignored the cries of the three girls, driven solely by the hunger to reach you.

“You’re dripping blood on the floor, please stop!” Naho begged.

“Let us help you, Genya-sama, it will only get worse!” Kiyo added.

“Shut up,” he snarled. He didn't mean to sound so hostile, but he needed to reach you without distractions.

The sound of the girls’ screams echoed in Genya’s ears as he shoved his way towards your office, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step.

His hand left bloody smears on the door as he pushed it open, desperate to find you. But when he stumbled into the room, he found it empty.

His vision was blurry, and he was seeing spots, the pain almost unbearable. He staggered backwards, using the wall to steady himself as he tried to call out for you.

Suddenly, he heard the skid of someone stopping behind the three girls who were still screaming in terror. He turned his head, his eyes fixing on you as you stood there with your hand on the hilt of your sword.

You were frozen in place, clearly shocked by the bloody and battered figure of him.

“Genya Shinazugawa!” You gasped in shock, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth.

You gently moved Sumi out of the way to reach him. As you got closer, you saw the bloody handprints on the door and the exhaustion on Genya's face. Your heart sank at the sight of his injuries.

“Please prepare the first aid materials in the infirmary,” you commanded the three girls, they ran quickly.

"Genya, what happened?" You asked, your voice trembling with concern as you took a closer look at him.

“Demon,” he said softly. “In a lotta pain,” he added.

You nodded, your mind already racing with what needed to be done. "Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said.

You gently took Genya's hand and led him towards the infirmary, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Despite the excruciating pain he must have been experiencing, he stiffened at the sudden contact. You noticed this and quickly dropped your hand, apologising, "Sorry, I should have asked."

Genya grabbed your hand and held it tightly. "No," he said, "I liked it."

Your eyes widened at his bold statement, and a blush crept onto your face. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you led him into the infirmary.

After a few hours of tending to Genya's wounds, he finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber.

You sat by his bedside, watching over him as he slept. As you gazed at him, you noticed how peaceful he looked, with his breathing slow and steady.

With your heightened senses, you slowly turned to catch a glimpse of a white-haired man standing silently by the door.

He lifted his index finger to his lips, signalling for you to stay quiet.

You nodded in understanding, still surprised by his unexpected arrival.

He sat himself softly on Genya's bed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. Your eyes widened as you pieced together the resemblance between the two of them.

Sanemi Shinazugawa left a kiss on his brother's forehead.

After Sanemi finished looking at his brother, satisfied with the amount of care given to him, he walked towards you and whispered in your ear, “Thank you.” He then walked out of the room.

The next morning, you decided to bring breakfast to Genya, wanting to compensate for his sore body with a meal served in bed. As you entered the room, you found him sitting up and staring out of the window, watching the lush trees dance in the fresh air.

"Good morning," you greeted him with a beautiful smile, holding a tray of food in your hands.

"Mornin’," he grumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the sound of his voice.

"I brought you some food," you said, making your way to him. "May I sit?" you gestured towards the bed.

"Feel free," he replied softly.

You sat down next to him and placed the food on his lap, pouring a glass of water from his side table. Genya was about to grab a spoonful of food for himself, but you gave him a warning glance.

"What?" he looked confused.

You took the spoon from his fingers and guided it to his mouth, feeding him yourself.

His face turned bright red as he promptly covered it with his large hand, grabbing your wrist. "I can feed myself," he whispered.

"I know," you replied with a teasing smile. "But I can't help enjoy seeing you blush.”

He stared at you intently, as if searching for something in your eyes.

“You need to eat, Genya-san,” you reminded him.

He opened his mouth and you brought the spoonful of food towards him. He gratefully accepted it and sighed in satisfaction after swallowing it. Then, you brought the glass of water to his cracked lips.

Water escaped from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb, but as soon as your skin made contact with his, you felt a jolt run through you. You looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had clouded over and his ears were red.

"I'M SO JEALOUS!" Zenitsu exclaimed loudly.

"Shut up!" Inosuke swatted Zenitsu’s head.

Genya turned his attention to the door, where Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjiro were peeking in.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out!" Genya bellowed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Nezuko-chan," you said while sitting on the engawa, gently smoothing out her hair. She was lying on your lap as the two of you basked in the moonlight.

She let out an enthusiastic hum, and her small hands reached up to grasp yours, nuzzling her cheek against your palm.

The gesture made your heart swell with warmth, and you couldn't help but think that this is how Kanae-sama must have felt when you were younger.

You chuckled softly as you noticed Genya’s attempting to spy on the two of you from the hallways of the mansion. "Ganya-san thinks I can't see him spying on us," you said with amusement.

He made his presence even more obvious by speaking up, "Ya know you got a demon on your lap, right?" he said.

"I am most aware," you smiled at him.

The moonlight highlighted your features even more, making you look ethereal.

"Why do you smile," he asked, his curiosity piqued. "When you feel so angry all the time?"

His sudden analysis caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a little surprised.

Nezuko gazed up at you, her eyes full of curiosity and admiration. You couldn't help but think of Kanae-sama and how she used to play with your hair in the same way you were now with Nezuko.

Genya's words had stirred up memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of her loss came flooding back. Your throat started to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. "Fuck," Genya was taken aback by your sudden change in attitude.

Nezuko's sudden embrace took you by surprise. You cried hard on her shoulder, the memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of losing her flooded back to you. Your tears wet her kimono, but she didn't seem to mind. It was as if she understood your pain, despite being a demon.

Genya watched with a mixture of confusion and concern. He had never seen this side of you before, and it made him realise how little he knew about you. He always saw you as the kind-hearted person with a beautiful smile on your face, always ready to help anyone in need.

It was difficult for him to see you in so much pain, and he didn't know how to comfort you.

He hesitantly placed a hand on your head, and you made a muffled sound of surprise from the sudden touch. You turned around and looked at him through your wet lashes, tears still running down your cheeks.

“I got you,” he said, looking you in the eyes and giving you soft smile.

He sat down next to you, allowing his shoulder to touch yours. You felt a flutter in your chest at the contact and didn't dare move, afraid the moment might end.

You looked down to check on Nezuko, she had fallen asleep in your embrace.

Genya's took your hand in his, it was so warm in yours as he ran his thumb along your knuckles.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being close to him as you both gazed up at the night sky.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Genya shifted slightly, looking down at you. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "So beautiful."

Two months had passed since Genya started his frequent check-ups, and your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful. You found comfort and joy in each other's company, and Genya seemed to have found a sense of purpose being around you.

On this particular day, the two of you were sitting on the engawa, overlooking the stunning garden of the butterfly mansion. The fragrant scent of flowers wafted through the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves added to the serene atmosphere.

You had previously mentioned to Genya that you would meditate for two hours a day, and he had expressed interest in joining you.

Sitting in silence, Genya found it increasingly difficult to stay still. His legs were losing feeling, his nose was itching, and he was just so close yet so far from you. It was pissing him off that he couldn't hold your hand, kiss your forehead, or have you play with his hair.

As he tried to resist the urge to sneeze, Genya's nose continued to twitch uncontrollably. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable sitting in silence next to you, struggling to maintain stillness during meditation. He wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, feel the warmth of your touch, or have you play with his hair. But he knew that any movement on his part would break the stillness of the moment.

Despite his discomfort, he refused to touch his nose. He had noticed that you had an amazing sense of spatial awareness, and he didn't want to risk breaking the peaceful atmosphere with even the slightest movement. So, he tried to hold on as long as possible, hoping the sneeze would subside on its own.

It did not, it only got worst.

He slowly opened one eye, feeling a bit apprehensive about disturbing your meditation, but then he couldn't resist the urge to steal a glance at you. However, he quickly regretted it when he realised that you were already staring back at him, a small smile on your face.

"Have you been starin’ at me all this fucken time?" he snarled.

"Yep," you chirped.

"You little-" Genya was about to say something but you jumped up, giggling, and ran towards the garden.

As you both tumbled to the grass, laughter filled the air. You could feel the soft blades of grass tickling your skin as Genya playfully pinned you down, his weight making it impossible for you to move. You looked up at him, his chest heaving from the chase, his eyes burning with mischief.

You playfully pouted, pretending to be upset that Genya had caught you, but your smile gave you away.

Genya couldn't help but notice the pout on your lips, and his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and mouth. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should make a move, but before he could do anything, you took the initiative.

You pulled him towards you and pressed your lips against his.

He was frozen at first, hands grabbing chunks of grass in an attempt to restrict himself, but he couldn't resist your allure. You whispered his name, which undid him, and he responded by deepening the kiss.

As the kiss broke, both of you were left breathless. Genya looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with emotion. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, while he pulled you onto his lap.

For a few moments, both of you remained entranced in each other's presence, the world around you fading away as your hearts beat as one.

#pxob #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #genya shinazugawa #genya x reader #genya x fem reader #soft genya #genya fluff #genya angst #tanjiro kamado #inosuke hashibira #zenitsu agatsuma #nezuko kamado #angel eyes

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theresthesnitch · 10 months

Note

Ooo whats it about?

😅

Listen, you're going to have to trust me.

It's Jily. Strangers to Step-Siblings to Lovers. I know. I've actually had a lot of fun with it though, and I think you'll enjoy it too. There's a snippet below the cut that gives the vibe.

~*~

Lily smiles as she grabs his phone, sending herself a quick text. “You better. Otherwise, you’re leaving me to the mercy of my future step-brothers, and I can’t be responsible for what happens then.”

James pulls out his phone and hands it to her. “Here, put your number in, and I’ll make sure you get out of the house at least a little bit this week.”

“Well, for the sake of your future step-brothers, I guess I’ll have to.” He takes a step closer, still holding her hand, and Lily can feel her heartbeat speeding up. “I know we just met, but I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t ask now. Can I kiss you?”

She inhales sharply, certainly not expecting that now. Nor how much she wants to. “Yes,” she says.

James cups her face with one hand, his warm and slightly calloused fingers gently threading into her hair. He dips his head, and their lips meet.

Her eyes are closed when he pulls away. “I’ll see you again soon?”

~*~

James straightens his bag on his shoulder. “Ready to go, then?”

“No, we’re picking up Allen’s daughter too. She’s supposed to be arriving at the same time you did, so I told him I’d grab her too.”

James wrinkles his nose. “Petunia? You offered to pick up Petunia?”

“No, the other one,” Sirius says, looking back down at his phone. “She says she’ll be out in a bit.”

“The one who avoided meeting us at Thanksgiving?” James asks. “What’s her name?”

Sirius looks up blankly. “I don’t remember. Luis, maybe?”James raises an eyebrow. “You think Allen’s second daughter is named Luis.”

“Excuse me, I think you’re waiting for me?”

James’s stomach drops when he hears her voice, and he doesn’t turn immediately. Sirius, on the other hand, smiles at her. “Yeah, are you Allen’s daughter then?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

James starts to turn slowly as Sirius speaks again. “Great, then we’re here for you. I’m Sirius and you are–”

“Lily,” James says as he turns to see her.

“James?” She says it like his name is a question.

“You’ve met?” Sirius says. It’s a moment before the realization comes over his face. “Oh, oh, this is just priceless. Are you the girl from the plane then? The one he kissed?” They don’t say anything, and Sirius laughs. “Oh, god. This is going to be fun.”

#snitch answers asks #snitches get snippets #jily #step-siblings #strangers to step-sibilings to lovers #i just can't stay (away)

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kitkatscabinet · 10 months

Text

Running home to your sweet nothings

John "Soap" Mactavish x F! Riley! reader

Summary: Simon’s older sister is his entire world, the last person he has left, and someone he's fiercely overprotective of. This is too bad for Soap, who falls head over heels at first sight.

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: No mention of if reader is adopted/step/half/full siblings for inclusivity. NSFW content.

It was raining the first time he met you, a grizzly downpour that seemed even gloomier than the usual shit Hereford weather. Maybe he’d simply forgotten how miserable the country could be after extended time in South America, but Soap could have sworn mother nature had decided to fuck with him specifically.

The rain is one of the only things he remembers from that day, exhaustion heavy set in his bones, other than you that is. He remembers because just as he’d been about to head off into the downpour, a car had come screeching into the base and promptly scared the sleep from his body.

Squinting, Soap barely managed to make out the sight of the car door being thrown open. The booming, thick Mancunian accent that bellowed over the rain was not as hard to distinguish, “Simon, hurry the fuck up!”

Soap nearly choked at the audacity of the stranger, his jaw actually dropping when the Lt. simply grumbled softly, turning to murmur something to their captain. He was still stuck in the emotional rollercoaster when there was suddenly a dripping wet but beaming woman in his vicinity.

Stunning didn’t even begin to describe you, even as strands of hair stuck to your cheeks, a hand hastily coming up to wipe them away as you made it to the undercroft. You’d grinned at the team, all teeth and sparkly eyes even as Ghost seemed like he’d be more enthused if someone told him his dog died.

His hulking Lieutenant said something Soap couldn’t even begin to decipher, too entranced by the stranger in front of him when you spoke again. “You must be Soap! Simon’s been trying to keep me away from his team for some reason, So I decided not to give him a choice.”

You threw your friend? Cousin? Brother? Lover? A playful glare before you laughed. It was the best sound he’d ever heard, and one he had instantly vowed to make sure he heard again.

Soap really hoped you were single.

“John.” Soap’s heart stopped at the melodic sound of his name coming from your mouth, cheeks flushing in mild embarrassment as he realised you weren’t addressing him but Captain Price. The Captain nodded and smiled back at you, clapping a friendly hand on your shoulder in a way that breathed familiarity.

It’s only when Soap finally manages to get his tongue to start working again that he swaggers over, elbowing Simon jokingly in the side as he wiggles his eyebrows “Who’s this then? Been holdin’ out on us Lt?” Simon doesn’t answer, throwing him that signature soulless stare of his as you roll your eyes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, but I can’t say it hurts a little. Don’t wanna brag about me to your teammates baby brother?” You pouted, leaning against your sibling only to be immediately pushed away by the face as Simon grunted.

Older sister. Soap was both simultaneously relieved and even more horrified by the revelation.

You weren’t dating Simon, which meant he had more of a chance! It also meant he’d have to get Simon’s approval, and given the harsh glare he was on the receiving end of, Soap didn’t rate his chances.

“John Mactavish, at your service lass” he introduced himself, laying on the charm, shaking your hand and marvelling at the feel of your skin against his as you relayed your name. He only spends a few minutes mentally cussing out the Lt for being there, staring into his soul and preventing him from planting a kiss against your knuckles.

Soap’s forced to let go far too soon for his liking when Simon huffs, tugging you back to your car as you chastise him for being rude, waving a hasty goodbye to the 141 before getting back behind the wheel. Leaving him to pine from afar, internally cursing when he realises he’s got no way to contact you.

The car has long since peeled out of the lot and is far from sight when a hand clasps on Soap’s shoulder, startling him from his daydreams, “Not a chance son.” Garrick laughs in the background as Soap pouts at the betrayal.

The second time you meet, the sun is shining, enhancing your radiance as the gentle rays caress your skin. He thinks you’re much better suited to this kind of weather, it allows your smile to really gleam.

It’s a complete coincidence that you run into each other only a few weeks after your initial and far too abrupt meeting and Soap chooses to take it as the universe’s divine blessing. As much as he’d tried to banish the images of you from his mind, aware of your status as “forbidden fruit”, Soap doubted he’d ever truly be able to.

He’s calling your name before he can stop and think, one hand raised and frozen in the air as you steal the breath from his lungs once more. Rapid beeping in the background alerts Soap that the crossing light he’d been waiting for has turned green but he pays it no mind, errands forgotten in the prospect of speaking to you.

You blink in surprise before gracing him with a beaming smile as you jogged to close the gap between you, “Oh, Soap Hello.”

“Call me Johnny,” the words are breathed out with very little thought. He hates people calling him that, but when you utter it he swears he’s never heard a better sound.

“Enjoying a day off?” You inquire, falling into step beside him as the two of you start to walk again with you following his lead.

“Aye, been putting off the grocery run for too long.” You nodded in understanding, listening intently as he started to ramble, only cutting himself off in embarrassment a few minutes later when he realised you’d been silent the entire time. Nervously, he scratches his flushed cheek with an apology, “Sorry for gettin' a bit carried away lass, you’ve probably got better things tae do than listen to little ol’ me carrying on like a twat.”

Your pretty lips slip downwards and your brows furrow adorably as you shake your head, “why are you apologising? I’ve enjoyed listening to you.” Soap’s heart skips a beat at your completely earnest expression, fuck. He was so screwed.

The ding of his phone alerting him to a text from you sends Soap practically flying across the room, leaping onto his bed as he scrambles to respond. Johnny’s not been able to see you in person since that fateful day in the sun, you've been texting nearly non-stop but it’s not nearly enough for him.

Perhaps that’s why he’d so quickly responded with a very enthusiastic yes without fully thinking through the situation's implications. Johnny stares in stunned shock at his phone for a few seconds as it sinks in what he’s just agreed to. A few more seconds and his body kicks into gear, clothes flying as he strips himself to jump into the shower. He nearly slips several times in the rush and ends up squirting shampoo into his eyes, causing him to cuss and then inevitably get it in his mouth.

The next obstacle is his clothes. He needs to impress you but it is like every piece of clothing he owns is suddenly inadequate. Too casual, far too formal, stained, dirty, gym wear, uniform, nothing is working and by the time he settles on some jeans and a semi-nice shirt he’s worked himself into a sweat again.

Checking the time, he decides he has enough left to quickly rinse off once more, nearly scrubbing his skin raw in the rush. Outfit on it isn’t until he’s on the street that he realises he’s left his wallet inside. The wallet he needed to buy you the flowers you deserved.

By the time he finally makes it to your door, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans as he shifts his weight anxiously he’s only got a few minutes to spare. Triple-checking he’s got the right address (after he’d checked multiple times before), he knocks on your door, brain whirring as he tries to figure out his opening line.

As the door swings open the words die abruptly on his tongue, mouth drying like the Sahara as the lumbering figure of his lieutenant answers instead of you. The silence is damning and John wishes for the first time in his life for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole as all the blood drains from his face.

“Johnny?” The gruff voice is flat and unimpressed, the gaze that struck fear into the hearts of enemies boring into his soul. Staring up into those cold brown eyes, John realises with horror that Simon is somehow even scarier without the mask.

“Johnny!” The second call of his name is far lovelier and filled with excitement and Soap dies a little more on the inside as he watches the liuetenants scowl deepens even further. Yet the second he catches a glimpse of the beaming smile on your face as you catch sight of him and the flowers makes it all worth it in Soap’s mind, “for me?” you gasp before giddily taking the bouquet.

He watches you flit around with the sunflowers as you look for a vase, proudly displaying them on your coffee table and the pulling him for a hug. It’s almost enough for him to ignore the menacing figure that is Simon Riley looming in the background like a wraith, almost.

The food is divine, most things are to him compared to the food he consumes on deployment and his own cooking, and he makes sure to complement you endlessly. He watches how receptive you are to his flirtations and lays it on a little thicker, he’s willing to risk that his lieutenant won’t actually beat the shit out of him for it.

Simon’s washing the dishes when Soap finally gets some time alone with you, sitting on the couch next to you close enough that your knee brushes his. “Thank ye for inviting me lass, ‘s been lovely. Though maybe next time I could take ye out, just the two of us?” Your breath hitches a little and you nod eagerly,

“I’d like that a lot Johnny.” The moment is once again cut short, this time by an aggressive cough, and Johnny and you turn simultaneously to catch Simon standing behind the couch with crossed arms. Like a child caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, Soap feels oddly guilty. Before he can move, you’re placing a comforting hand on his knee, responding to your brother even as the man inquisition glares at said hand. “Done with the dishes already?”

A terse nod is the only response and Johnny gets the feeling that Simon is attempting to blow him up with his mind. Yet the feel of your thumb rubbing comforting circles against his knee makes it all worth it in Soap’s mind.

The hours pass as drinks and conversation flow, all the while with Simon brooded in the corner like an angsty toddler. You don’t seem to be too bothered by the hulking man’s behaviour and Johnny’s so enamored by you that he can’t find himself to care about the silent threat.

It’s not until you glance up at the clock on the wall and gasp that Soap realises how late it’s become. “Ah I should probably be heading out,” he reluctantly voices, only to watch as your face becomes aghast.

“Absolutely not, it’s far too late. You’ll sleep here,” you admonished, flitting about to gather blankets and pillows. It’s the first instance of the night where he’s left alone with Simon and as the man continues to stare Soap silently begs for your swift return.

Suddenly Ghost is standing right next to him, the height difference abundantly clear, and not for the first time that night Soap feels small. “I don’t know what you think you’re up to Mactavish, but it stops now,” the man’s voice seems even gruffer than usual, a dangerous whisper just for John’s ears.

Whether it’s from having the silent warning finally voiced or the part of him that is ruffled from being told what to do with his personal life, Johnny’s hackles raise, “and what would that be Lt? Gettin’ tae know a pretty lass that wants to know me too?”

Brown eyes narrow in furious warning, the ‘watch it Mactacish’ abundantly clear. But Soap has never been one to back down, especially not when a potential relationship with you is on the line.

“She’s too old for you,” Simon huffed when it became clear that the younger man wasn’t backing down and Soap’s blood boiled even further, refusing to admit how much the words shook hims confidence.

“Think tha’s up to her mate.” Unfortunately, his voice wavers slightly and Simon notices, evidently deciding to capitalise on it.

“You’re just a child to her, someone to look after and mother.” The sound of your footsteps pacing back down the hallway stops the arguments in its tracks. When you stumble back into the room, arms full of more pillows that anyone could possibly use, it’s to an incredibly tense silence. Though Soap’s heart swells at the sight of the various pillows and blankets obstructing your form.

Finally, Simon exits the room, with one last silent warning as you fuss over Soap, practically tucking him into the couch you’ve fashioned into a bed.

Try as he might, Soap can’t fall asleep, too wired simply by the fact that he’s still in your living space. That you are sleeping not 100m away from him, never mind your imposing younger brother. The ticking of the clock on the wall is minute and on any other occasion he likely wouldn’t have even heard it but it was like hi senses had been dialled to the max.

Groaning in irritation he ground his palms into his eyes before he swung his legs around and wandered through the darkness into the kitchen. He’s wary of waking you as he rifles as quietly through your cupboards for a glass as possible, holding back a pained curse as his shin harshly hits the kitchen bench.

Despite his best efforts he must not have been quiet enough as a few moments later a soft, sleepy voice has him whirling around. “S’everything alright?” You stood before him, rubbing one of your eyes with a yawn and dressed in an oversized shirt. The ensemble was overwhelmingly adorable and it took all his self restraint not to coo at the sight.

“Fine lass, did I wake ye?” He frowned, voice tinged with guilt as he watched you step closer into his space, acutely aware of how close you’d gotten. You shake your head no as you lean on the counter next to him, your arm lightly brushing against his.

“Couldn’t sleep… not when I kept thinking about you out here on the couch.” Hesitantly you allowed yourself to look into his wide blue eyes only to find him already staring at you with blazing intensity.

“Think about me a lot darlin?” His words are a husky whisper, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze darted down to yours.

“No more than you do about me I’d wager,” you managed to reply over the pounding of your heart. You’re not entirely sure who moves first but the light clatter of the glass Johnny had been holding against the counter is quickly drowned out as large, warm hands gently cup your face as lips lined with stubble are on yours.

It’s short and sweet and when you pull back your eyes are wide where Jonny’s are half lidded and dazed. Barely three seconds pass before you’re pulling him back against your lips, hands curling in the hair on the base of his neck as one of your thighs pressed between his legs. You swallow the guttral groan he lets out with a smirk, pushing him further against the counter until the sound of a glass tipping over had you darting apart.

Fighting to regain your breath and composure you reluctantly step back to create a respectful distance even as Johnny’s hands absentmindedly trail after you as if to pull you back against him. When more than thirty seconds pass and there’s no indication that your little brother has awoken, you allow yourself to relax once more.

Johnny’s hands are suddenly on your hips again and he pulls you against him so eagerly your forced to brace your hands on his muscled chest. His lips meet the skin of your neck with a satisfied hum and it takes all your strength to pull away, especially when he whines in dissatisfaction.

“Not tonight Johnny,” you hummed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before pulling away and forcing yourself to walk back to your room before you dropped to your knees and took him in your mouth righ there in the kitchen as your brother slept in the next room over.

Not tonight Johnny. Your words echoed in his mind, repeating over and over as the implications settled in. Not tonight. But not never, just not now. Throwing his head back Soap exhaled heavily, trying to calm himself down over the thrum of his blood. Shuffling back to the couch he tries valiantly to ignore his throbbing dick, an impossible task when he can still feel your lips against his and the soft squish of your hips beneath his palms.

It’s a long and torturous night.

The next 36 hours are spent with the visage of your kiss swollen lips at the forefront of his mind, the ghost of his name whispered hoarsely from your lips featuring consistently in his fantasies. He’s a lovesick fool reminiscent of a teenage boy but he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, especially not when you show up at his front door three days post kiss and drag him off to a local aquarium.

The sight of you getting excited over the various fish and marine wildlife as you eagerly tugged on his hand only served to further his infatuation. Your first date ends with yet another breath taking kiss and Soap falls asleep that night filled with certainty that there will never be another person after you.

You don’t even make it to the third date. Soap opens his door only to freeze at your outfit, dinner long forgotten as he pulls you inside and presses you against the door. You’re quick to reciprocate, moaning against his lips as clothes were thrown and you were finally bared to him. Your body was better than anything Johnny could have ever imagined and he eagerly dropped to his knees, burying his face in your cunt with the voracity of a man starved.

He’s made you cum thrice on his tongue and fingers before you’re harshly tugging on his mohawk and mashing your lips together in a sloppy kiss, walking him backwards until he hits the couch and you're straddling his throbbing length. You’ve already tugged his shirt off, but don’t bother with his pants beyond freeing his cock. He barely gets to appreciate the feel of your soft hand grasping him before its replaced by the silky heat of your cunt.

Soap’s forehead drops to rest on your collarbone as you both groaned, taking a few seconds to adjust to the sensation. It didn’t take long before you were rocking your hips against his, Johnny’s hands gripping your hips to the point of bruising as he lavished your tits with bites and kisses. He’s so pent up from weeks of fucking his own fist and waking up achingly hard from increasingly risque dreams that it hardly takes any time before he’s practically fighting his orgasm. “Need you to slow down darlin, ‘m not gonna last,” he grunted, trying to get you to cooperate a little.

“Then cum baby,” you nonchalantly commanded, continuing to ride him with vigour and Soap’s ears filled with white noise, all he could see, hear, feel was you.

“Where-” He managed to choke out through gritted teeth, only half heartedly trying to pull you off of him.

“Inside” you panted, and that was all it took before his hips stuttered and he climaxed, whining a little as you kept riding him until you clenched down on his already softening cock, reaching your own orgasm. The two of you stayed locked together, your head tucked into his sweaty chest placing lazy kisses as you caught your breath.

By the time you finally rolled out of Johnny’s bed and made your way home the following afternoon you had over twenty texts from your brother and more than a few missed calls that left you cringing. The attempt you make to sneak back into your own residence! Is immediately thwarted by your perpetually overprotective and nosy brother.

The laser focused glare that settles on your bruised neck has you wilting like a scolded child. You manage to play it off as a one night stand, having picked up a random woman from a bar, asking him is sex was suddenly made illegal when you weren’t aware.

As you clamber into the shower to rinse off the stench of sex, a shiver runs down your spine as you mentally vow that Simon can never figure out who the culprit of your mauled neck is.

You’re only granted three weeks of bliss with Johnny before everything came crashing down violently. Until then you’d been vigilant at only sleeping at his and going on dates far away from where you knew Simon would be.

You’d gotten complacent, too comfortable in the belief that Simon wouldn’t find out, that you’d get to enjoy the relationship for a little longer before you were forced to share with your little brother. Simon wasn’t supposed to be home, Johnny had spent the night at yours and it had been so wonderful to wake up in his arms in your own bed.

Johnny had woken you by peppering kisses along your face and neck as you giggled and tried to push him off, complaining about his prickly stubble. He used his training and bulk to weigh you down, the playful nips turning more sensual as he kissed his way down your stomach, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder.

Your hands tangle in his mess of a mohawk as you writhe beneath him, whining in protest when he uses his hands to hold your hips down to keep you still. “Johnny,” you choke out a moan of his name at the same instance your bedroom door swings open and there’s a thunderous roar of fury as Simon screams at your boyfriend.

A shriek leaves your lips as you kick Johnny in the shoulder so hard he flies off the edge of your bed, simultaneously pulling the blanket up and curling in a ball to hide your naked body. Chaos couldn’t even begin to describe the following seconds as your still horny brain tried to cotton on to what was happening.

The mortification of your little brother not only seeing you naked but witnessing you mid fuck quickly fades when he stalks into your room towards the still prone and processing Johnny, and morphs into an immense sense of terror. “Simon!” You clamber to place yourself between the two men, unsure as to whether things are about to descend into violence, as Johnny finally manages to orient himself.

“Out. Now.” Your brother addresses the sergeant, cold fury tinging his words as the muscles in his jaw clench. You scoff at that, reaching back to grab Johnny’s bicep to keep him there.

“No. He stays.” Simon completely ignores your presence, glaring past you as if you weren’t even there.

“Johnny,” the warning is clear and you’re familiar enough with Simon’s tells to know how close he is to blowing up, or rather as close to as he ever gets to blowing up.

“Simon enough! I’m not a child, I’m a grown ass woman and I will fuck whoever I wanna fuck.” You're starting to reach the end of your own tether and it’s only Johnny’s presence, his warm chest pressed to your back that’s grounding you.

“Not him,” he denies stubbornly, arm crossed as he continues to glower at the two of you.

“Why not? He makes me happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?” It takes everything in you not to burst into tears at how poorly this is going. You would have thought that of all the men in the world Simon wouldn’t have minded you falling in love with one that he already knew and trusted.

“Right now maybe. What happens when he breaks your heart? When I have to have his back in the field after you’ve spent days crying over him huh? What happens if he doesn’t come home and I have to watch you shatter into pieces all over again like after Tommy?” You fall silent at that, swallowing harshly at the reminder of your deceased brother. Simon’s words hit you like a slap in the face and you actually stumble backwards a little as Johnny catches you.

“Simon mate I get ye wanting to protect yer family but yer being a little controlling dontcha think?” Johnny tries to speak up in defense of your relationship but from the way your brother’s breathing deepens you can tell the words have the opposite effect.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Simon huffed, “fine, do what you want,” before he stormed from your room. It’s not until you hear the front door slam closed that you fully allow yourself to collapse, tears streaming down your face in earnest as Johnny cradled you.

He does his best to console you, whispering reassurances into your ears that you don’t really process as Johnny manoeuvres you back into bed, bundling you up in his arms and the blankets. You spend the rest of the day crying in bed, obsessively checking your phone for news from Simon and waiting to hear the front door open.

“I’m so sorry lass, never intended to come between ye and Simon,” there’s genuine self loathing in your boyfriends voice and it’s enough to finally pull you from your own spiral.

“Don’t you dare apologise for him Johnny” you hissed, taking his face in your hands, “you have done nothing but bring me happiness. Simon will just have to get over it because I don’t intend on giving you up… unless that’s something you want?”

“Never. I’m afraid yer stuck with me forever now bonnie” he stated with such certainty that you’ve no choice but to believe him.

“Forever?” you breathed out.

“Forever.” He confirmed with a goofy grin, planting a comforting kiss on your forehead. “Simon will come around. He loves ya too much to brood forever.” With that he finally manages to coax you to sleep, promising to stay awake and keep an ear out for your wayward brother.

Simon makes his way home a few days later, slinking up to the porch where you sat smoking a cigarette to help relieve the stress like a cat that had run away only to decide the outside sucked. You don’t ask where he’s been and he doesn’t tell, simply slumping down next to you before stealing your smoke.

“Filthy habit, thought you quit,” he grunted, putting it out beneath his boot.

“I did, but it’s been a stressful few days, my little brother decided to go MIA, left me worried shitless,” you huffed, throwing him a blatant side eye as you can’t bring yourself to look at him directly.

There’s silence for a few seconds before you make out the soft rumble of, “He sounds like a right bellend.” You hummed in response, exhaling harshly from your nose. The two of you continue to sit in silence, both unsure how to proceed.

You’re saved from having to say anything when there’s a bang, causing you and Simon to swivel in alarm to watch as the front door was violently swung open to reveal a grinning Johnny dressed in an apron. He pauses upon seeing your brother but takes the man’s appearance in stride, grin never fading as he proclaimed, “eggs are ready,” before disappearing back inside.

Wiping your hands on the cotton material of your pants you stand, take a deep breath and then step back inside, pausing at the threshold to finally look at Simon, tilting your head as if to ask, ‘you coming?’

Simon doesn’t move, sighing in exasperation, “He’s staying then?”

“Looks like it.” To your surprise he simply nods, lumbering up the small steps and following you inside to the warmth of your home, stopping only to kick off his boots, exposing the frog socks you’d bought for him only a few months back.

Things were still far from ok, you weren’t willing to completely forgive Simon for blowing up and promptly worrying you sick with the disappearing act, but the sight of those ridiculous socks was enough to reassure you that they would be soon.

Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @skotchi @bunnyreaper @Tokusho @ohworm-writes @jack-crow-lantern @marvellover-12 @skylarf0rest @ghostfkr @bookobsessedram @Frogtowne @dumb-fawkin-bitch @juvenillia

#x reader #cod mw x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #john mactavish

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darby-rowe · 9 months

Text

PILEDRIVER !

sejanus plinth x fem!District 2!reader summary when you and sejanus get the opportunity to relive your days of amateur backyard wrestling while growing up in district two, things get... well, compromising.

word count 2.5k cw childhood best friends to lovers, the inherent eroticism of wrestling, awkward boner, reader makes the first move, first kiss, cunnilingus, confident sej, p in v, unprotected sex, sej has a big dick, petnames, dirty talk, flexible reader, piledriver position, y/n usage, pulling out, not proofread notes based off of my personal headcanon that district two quickly became filled to the brim with underground fighting/wrestling rings after it was named panem's newest military hotspot after district 13 got its shit obliterated. and i was always obsessed with the idea of a district two character who was heavily involved with these rings, so i decided to "soften" up the idea a little bit by just making reader the type of child who wrestled w/ her family and friends as a little girl. thought this concept was super cute and i hope yall do too! also for anyone who's wondering, sej and reader are supposed to be doing catch wrestling, but i also combined moves from collegiate wrestling and pro wrestling :) so yeah!!

Growing up in District 2, you swiftly grew familiar with back alley tussling as your home district quickly became Panem’s military hotspot after the first rebellion. It seemed as if your entire childhood consisted of backyard amateur wrestling and secret underground fighting rings in which you constantly found yourself getting wound up in.

By the time your family bought themselves a place within the Capitol, you already had a well rounded history of getting broken and bruised by friends, family, and complete strangers. And the thing was that you loved it. You loved stepping inside a poorly made ring and roughin’ it out with your siblings or cousins.

And your parents sure could afford the medical bills after all your broken bones!

So when you were forced to pack up and leave for the Capitol, you were heartbroken to have to transition into a life of high class uppity scumbags – with the exception of your best friend, Sejanus Plinth, whom you felt was your only source of comfort among the sea of self-important snakes.

One late night, Sejanus came to you with bright eyes and grinning lips, eager to show you what he had found. “Oh, and make sure you bring a sports bra, gym shorts, and some good shoes,” he had said before you two went off. Of course you didn’t object to a tiny adventure with your best friend, so you followed him through the quiet streets of the Capitol towards a run-down building that smelled of mold and old rubber. When you stepped inside, your heart swelled with nostalgic joy, and your eyes nearly overflowed with tears.

“Sej,” you gasped as your eyes fell upon the abandoned gym. Sure, it was a fixer-upper, but it was more than perfect for just the two of you. All of the punching bags and weight-racks were right where they were left, but the most important thing in the room were the big circles in the middle of the room.

You looked back at Sejanus with a look of pure gratitude. “How’d you find this place?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his brown doe eyes sparkling with delight. “I may or may not have pulled a few strings,” he teased. God bless Strabo and Ma Plinth, you thought. “Now, enough talk – you up for some old fashioned catch-as-catch-can?”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

The amount of time this gym must have been abandoned concerned you a bit, making you feel that if you took a big enough breath you’d be a walking incarnate of tuberculosis for the next year. But the two of you didn’t plan on staying long, as trespassing could land you a good few nights in jail. And you and Sejanus being district, that was the last thing you two needed to be added to your permanent records.

You made sure to stretch your body, making sure all your muscles were warmed up deeply before locking up with Sejanus. And him, with his big strong arms, you realized that your body was the only thing warmed up tonight.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Sejanus teased, wounding up his arms in large circles. “I’ll make sure to go easy on you, darling,”

“You think I can’t take you down, big boy?” you challenged, cracking your neck and knuckles. “I’ve done it before, remember?”

“Yeah, when we were five,” Sejanus countered, adding a small chuckle to his words.

There wasn’t a referee, nor a bell or a whistle, so you two shook hands and squatted down as you circled each other. The fingers of your hands slightly ghosted each other, teasing each other at the same time of who was going to grapple who first. The two of you then locked up in a collar and elbow tie-up, your hand grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him in for a standing headlock. You tightly secured Sejanus’s head into the pocket of your forearm as his hands felt around your waist. His strength overtook yours as he pushed himself out of the lock, and you couldn’t help yourself but lightly gasp as he pulls in for a standing headlock of his own and takes you down to the ground with a takeover. The feeling of your body flipping forwards onto your back makes you dizzy for just a second, opening your eyes to see Sejanus’s smiling face looking down straight at you.

“Thought you were gonna go easy on me,” you teased, panting from the combination of sudden movements.

Sejanus still has his arms wrapped around your head, also panting. “Change of heart, I guess,”

You huffed out a puff of air out of your mouth in a chuckle. “What a gentleman,” you locked your hands around his torso and pushed yourself into a bridge, using your strength to roll him over onto his stomach to lay him out prone. You let out embarrassingly loud grunts of effort as Sejanus was larger than you, which made him start laughing as you now laid over his body, hands still wrapped around him. “Shut up, Sej,”

“What? It’s cute,” he responded from under you.

You slowly released your hands from around his already clammy torso and stood back up on your feet, stretching your body once more to prepare for round two. “You didn’t even pin me,” Sejanus said with a tinge of confusion in his voice.

“It’s not like we’re actually doing a match together,” you told him. “What? You wanna do one for real this time?”

Sejanus twisted his body at the waist, knocking out all the kinks in his muscles. “I thought we were doing it for real?”

“Well now we can, grizzly bear,” your voice was almost a purr as you stretched out your arms at the ready. Grizzly bear? The nickname confused him, so you took the momentary distraction to two-step into a double-leg takedown. When he was on his back, you flipped your body over in a jackknife pin, but the sheer swiftness of Sejanus betrayed you.

Sejanus used the strength of his legs to roll you onto the backs of your shoulders, your arms pinned down by his legs, and knees hooked on his shoulders. You were unable to kick out by the time the three seconds were up.

“Nice,” you commented, panting as you looked up at his sweaty face from your compromising position.

“Should say the same to you,” he responded, letting you roll yourself backwards onto your knees. “Another round, darling?”

You got up onto your feet, but before you could agree to another round, you found yourself being tackled onto the ground below and folded in half. Sejanus had your arms pinned down over your head, and your knees were basically parallel with your cheeks.

And you felt the unmistakable feeling of Sejanus’s hard erection pressed against your ass.

Sejanus had you pinned down for more than the 3-second count, and he still hadn’t let you go. You blushed, eyes scanning over his sweaty form dominating over you. What do you even say in a situation like this?

You always thought Sejanus was cute. You watched him grow up alongside you and turn into an extremely handsome young man. He grew into his muscular stature, his brown curls became more defined, his brown doe eyes only grew dreamier.

And now here you were, folded in half like a damn pretzel, and he was hard.

“You’re, um…” you wet your lips awkwardly. “You–... you’re hard, Sej,”

You felt guilt well up inside your chest as Sejanus’s face seemed to drop with embarrassment. Fuck, now you felt like an asshole. “Oh… oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry–”

“Hey, hey, no,” you cooed, trying to put his worries at ease. You reached up and brushed a stray curl from his sweaty face. “No apologies, Sej. Don’t worry,”

Sejanus crawled away from on top of you, letting your body unfold itself, giving your ribcage and your other internal organs a break. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position where Sejanus had one knee folded up towards his chest and his other leg flat on the dusty wrestling mat.

You sat there in silence, thinking of what your next move could possibly be. Should you apologize for pointing out Sejanus’s erection? It seemed as if no matter what you chose to say, it was only going to make the situation worse.

So instead, you said fuck it, and chose not to say anything at all as you grabbed Sejanus’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. You felt his big hands find purchase on your shoulders, as if the initial shock was going to make him fall over.

The taste of his plump, warm lips slotting themselves against yours sent goosebumps down your back, and when you pulled away for a breather, only a few words were exchanged before you two went back at it.

“Are you sure?” Sejanus mumbled against your lips.

“Please,” you whispered. And that was all that needed to be said.

It didn’t take long before you had Sejanus trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach and down towards the waistline of your shorts, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband and pulling them down to reveal your plain, cotton panties. Even in the darkness of the abandoned gym, he could still pinpoint the dark spot of your wetness, teasingly circling his thumb on the area. You inhaled sharply. You were already so sensitive. You blamed it on the previous exertion of energy you shared with Sejanus and, well, also the fact that Sejanus’s face was mere inches away from your pussy.

He swiftly pulled off your panties and leaned down to deliver one kitten lick to your clit, making you gasp softly. You could tell that your reaction made the boy smirk, adding to his confidence.

In a matter of seconds you were reduced to a mewling, moaning mess as the curly-haired boy devoured your clit – licking, sucking, slurping up your juices like a man who had been starving for days. The sheer sound of Sejanus’s mouth sucking at your pussy made you blush, and admittedly, you were even a little embarrassed at how wet you were.

You whined at the feeling of his mouth’s absence from your pussy, only to feel his hand lightly grab your face to force you to look at him.

“Wanna see your pretty face, please?” he cooed, and you nodded obediently, earning you his mouth back on your swollen clit. You cried out with delight, placing both of your hands on your breasts and squeezing them.

“So good…” you mewled, your legs beginning to squirm from your increasing pleasure. The knot in your stomach neared its unraveling, until you were once again folded in half, your pussy hovering above you at a near 90-degree angle.

Sejanus’s mouth never left your clit as he lifted your body over itself. Your fingernails dug deep into the mat, your eyes focused solely on Sejanus’s mouth and tongue on your lips and bud. But before you could finally arrive at your orgasm, he stopped abruptly.

You pouted pathetically up at him, whimpering. “Sej,”

He reached a hand down to softly caress the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles on your flushed cheeks. You could see the way his wet mouth shined in the dim light of the gym, licking his lips to taste the remnants of your essence.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, baby,” The way Sejanus was practically begging you had your stomach doing backflips. “Please? Please?”

In what world would you ever say no?

You pawed at Sejanus’s big arms as you nodded up at him, mumbling phrases like, “Please fuck me,” and “Want you inside me, baby,”

Your mouth watered as he freed his hard cock from his shorts, eyes widening at how big he was. Sejanus most likely caught on to your worried face as he quickly made sure to ease your worries. “I’ll be gentle, darling, don’t worry,” he murmured, slipping his cock in between your wet pussy lips. You gasped at his teasing, biting your lip as the tip of his cock pushed against your clit so well. “Breathe, baby,” he sighed, positioning the head of his dick at your tight, wet entrance and slowly lowering himself into you.

You inhaled sharply as the thickness of his cock stretched you open, the two of you groaning simultaneously at the new sensations. Sejanus was slow and cautious at first, but you could tell he wanted so badly to thrust himself inside of you and pound into the mat.

“So big…” you whispered, earning another low groan from the boy above you. When your walls finally stopped resisting against his size, Sejanus began to slowly lift himself up and back down inside you, earning beautiful melodic moans from your mouth.

You hooked your arms around your legs to keep you in this rather compromising position, but the way the curly-haired boy looked two seconds away from pistoning his cock inside you had you salivating. You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes and mumbling how good he felt, how big he was, how pretty he looked. You relished in the sight of him blushing at your dirty praises.

Sejanus’s hands found their place on your thighs to help him quicken his thrusts, and the faster he moved inside you, the louder your moans became. You felt his balls slap against your ass, the skin of his thighs colliding with yours, and his moans – ugh, his moans – you couldn’t get enough of his sounds of pure ecstasy.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he panted, looking down at your blissed out face. And for a moment, you two smiled at each other, just happy to be in this moment together.

Your hands reached up to grab at his forearms as you felt the knot in your stomach near its unraveling once more. “Gonna cum, baby,” you moaned. “Gonna cum all over your cock,”

Sejanus expedited the arrival of your orgasm by taking his thumb and circling your clit, and in a matter of moments you were crying and babbling your way as your walls tightened and pulsated around his dick. The sheer explosion of pleasure had you seeing spots behind your eyelids, gritting your teeth and growling as the boy above you didn’t slow down his thrusts.

As your high came down, Sejanus’s high was approaching as he quickly lifted himself out of you and swiftly started stroking his cock until he was spurting thick, white ropes all over your pussy. You closed your eyes dreamily as you listened to the beautiful sounds of his groans as his cock shot out large amounts of cum all over you.

You unfolded your body and brought your hand up to your chest to feel your heartbeat, breathing heavily as the intensity of your activities wound down. You felt Sejanus lay his large body on top of you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him and held him close, kissing the top of his head.

And in a last ditch effort to be the comedian of the moment, Sejanus said one last thing before the two of you cleaned yourselves up and headed home.

“Good hustle,” he mumbled, earning a wheeze from you and a tiny slap to his bicep.

“Shut the fuck up, Sej,”

tagging @spideyhexx — a late bday gift from me to you. ♡

dividers by cafekitsune

#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth imagine #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus plint smut #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #darbyrowe.doc

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edenalieth · 7 months

Text

LOVE CURSE

Pairing: god of love!minho x Y/N

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff with angst

Being a god of love wasn’t always easy. When you got assigned to Minho to be bonded to your soulmate, he thought his mission would be done in a blink of an eye. Little did he know that his biggest ally would be his greatest enemy: love.

Words: 6K

A.N: first fic of 2024, we cheered! sorry, it took me more time than i thought it would,,, that photoshoot inspired me for this story, as well as the song "rewrite the stars". my bad for the possible mistakes, hope you enjoy :) any interactions are sincerely appreciated 🫶. — 240304

Being a god of love wasn’t always easy. Mortals thought it was all about fate and butt naked babies shooting their arrows at them. However, it wasn’t as perfect as they could imagine it and deities didn’t look like cherubs.

Minho had not a single memory about his past life. One day, he had opened his eyes after wandering into darkness for a really long time and had been welcomed by an angel. This angel happened to be his new brother, Felix, who introduced him to more brothers and sisters. Felix was always cheerful, he exhaled warmth and passion, a ray of sunshine in a solid form. He taught him everything he had to know for his new function as a love god. The good sides and the bad ones. Among the great ones was the chase, as they called it with his siblings. An interesting part where they used their magic to get close to their assigned human. Using ancestral methods, they tricked their customer into thinking that they knew each other since forever. This way, it was easier for them to establish a bond with their chosen one and Minho was always sincerely curious about their lives, hopes and dreams. Once the spark of love was strong enough, came the second step. The aim. It was truly thrilling for Minho to shoot an arrow. The way the wood of his bow perfectly fitted on his hand, like an extension of his arm. Or when his fingers, hooking on the silver bowstring, had to keep the perfect balance before releasing his arrow, which never failed to ignite the passion between two human beings. It gave him goosebumps every time. Finally, came the evanescence. When the arrow had reached the heart and the two lovebirds were united, the god of love had to disappear from their lives. Despite how poetic all this appeared to be, not everyone had the chance to get their « happy ever after ». Divinities exclusively interfered to match a mortal to its soulmate and they had a glimpse of their future together. Unfortunately, they sometimes had to tie someone to a person who would break them in the most awful ways. No matter how bad it would be, they would remain in love with them to the point where they would forget about themselves. Minho had forced himself to become insensitive to such situations but, deep inside, he despised it. He felt nauseous and anger was running through his veins as he had to watch his customers becoming miserable in front of his eyes. Occasionally, he wished he could bribe the lord of death, Chan, into getting rid of those pests… Sadly, this deity wasn’t easy to negotiate with. They did their duty and nothing else.

When you got assigned to Minho, he didn’t think much about it and started his chase. You were a university student, pretty cheerful and a bit grumpy when things didn’t go your way. You loved to meet new people and hang out with your friends. Reading was one of your favorite hobby and you had a chubby black cat named Churros. Funny, he thought with a small smile on his face. He liked animals because they weren’t fooled by his powers like humans were, especially cats. With their piercing gaze, they could see the magic surrounding the deities, energy flows swirling around them in tints of red, black and gold. Truly smart beings.

Minho put his backpack correctly on his shoulders as he looked over his surroundings. Students were walking toward the entry door, chatting, laughing or shuffling sleepily — probably some hangover or all nighters for exams. Finally, he spotted you. Walking through the crowd, he reached you and put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around, visibly surprised and wondering about who the hell was touching you unprovoked. You frowned, met by a face you had never seen before, a beautiful face. It was a guy. He seemed to be the same age as you, his skin looked smooth, his pink lips stretched into a gentle smile and his hair were copper brown. Slowly, you attached your eyes to his. Warm and deep.

The god of love knew it was the perfect time to use his powers, you were visibly confused. Coming closer to your face, he saw your eyes widening. « I’m going to help you. » he whispered to your ear. When he glanced at you again and noticed the light veil over your eyes. Magic was happening. Shaking your head, as if emerging from a dream, your face lit up. « Minho! Gosh, I really thought you were going to leave me alone again. You know that I hate that class… », you gritted your teeth saying that.

Perfect, he thought. From now on, he would be your longtime friend who happened to go to the same university as you. « I know, I know » he replied, ruffling your hair. You looked offended as your fingers were quickly brushing your locks in an attempt to style them back properly. « You… Do you know how long it took me to do this ? » you grumbled, your eyes sending daggers to your friend. Minho smirked, playing his role to get to know you better. « Are you doing all of this for Thomas ? » he mused, teasing you. Naturally, you were his assigned human and he knew who he had to match you with and how to play with it to make you fall. Your cheeks turned into a bright red. You scoffed in disdain. « Me ? Doing this for a man ? Don’t be silly. » you rolled your eyes and grabbed his arm, changing the subject to the paper you had to write for today. Your crush was ridiculously obvious. He wondered if he would act this way if only he was able to love. However, your budding feelings for Thomas would help to get his job done faster. It took more time when he had to do all the job, create the meeting, put the right mood to some situation in attempt to make both parties fall in love. Yes, it would be easy. You sighed, « And here we go, for two hours of boredom… ». You sat down and prepared your papers, hurrying Minho to do the same. Obediently, he did as told and started his own class: learning about you.

Days turned into weeks and he knew a lot about you by now. You frowned when you were highly focused on something, you hated romcom — at least it was what you said, except that Minho witnessed you tearing up in front of 13 going 30 —, you were the type of person to scream your lungs out to songs while driving, you chewed on your lips and then complained about it when they were getting chapped. To make it short, you were lively in the most beautiful ways and the love god didn’t seem to grow tired of it. « Pull yourself together » he thought, lightly splashing his face with water. He had to make things move on between you and Thomas. Your interest for him didn’t seem to fade, after all, you were meant to be. He looked at his reflection on the mirror and was surprised by his expression: he seemed annoyed. Straightening his back, he glanced one more time at his face, defying it, before exiting the bathroom.

« Took you long enough » you stated, looking at the brown haired boy. He shrugged « Sorry ? ». You gestured him to come sit next to you. Churros was purring on your legs as you scratched it behind its ears and Minho looked at the scene fondly. Taking place by your side, he joined you to pet the black cat. You discreetly looked at your friend. You had been knowing him since you were kids — magic made you think that — and never had you realized how handsome he was. In your eyes, he was just your annoying lost twin. Kind of. At least, you thought… Or tried to convince yourself. Also, Thomas was there and you liked him, right ? Minho raised his head and caught you staring at him. He tilted his head before asking you, « What’s troubling you ? ». You shook your head, scratching your cat under its chin. « Hmm nothing… » your voice was low and not convincing at all, your friend wouldn’t fall for your masquerade. He came closer to you and nudge your shoulder. « Come on Y/N, what’s on your mind ? ». Seeing his eyes, you couldn’t resist them and gave up. You felt a bit embarrassed but gathered your courage up. « Have you ever been in love ? » you asked, your hands stopped moving and Churros half opened its eyes, its green pupils looking deep inside your soul. A brief silence filled the room. Minho was staring at the ceiling before clearing his throat. « Well, I’ve never experienced it myself but I believe it’s a precious and incredible feeling… » your friend seemed a bit gloomy and you were almost disappointed by his answer. « Have you ? » he kept going, curious to know if you were going to talk about your crush with him. The god of love was expectant. « Yes… » « How does it feel ? I can only imagine. » Minho smiled but his eyes weren’t. « It feels warm and exciting but complicated at times too… » you stated. « I mean, what do you do when you start having feelings for someone unexpected ? » The brown haired boy hummed. « Like falling for someone you never thought you would ? » You nodded, « Exactly. It's like... you have this image in your head of who you're supposed to be attracted to, and then someone comes along and totally flips that upside down. » The deity chuckled. « Hmm. I see what you mean. » a tint of bitterness lacing his voice. « But isn't that part of the magic of love? Discovering new feelings and connections you never imagined ? ». Why were you so hesitant about your feelings ? Never in his career he had witnessed that. Lighting the spark of love could took a bit longer to build but his customers never openly expressed their confusion. Was he lacking on some point ? As earlier when he was in the bathroom, he felt annoyance rushing through his veins and a strange tickling at the bottom of his nape... Churros left your lap, feeling the agitation of yours and Minho’s hearts. « I suppose so. It's just… I know you’ve noticed, I've been crushing on Thomas for a while now, but lately, someone else came into the picture… » you were elusive on purpose. Minho got caught off guard on that one. What was going on ? Something was definitely wrong. Who were you talking about ? He would have to review every single people being close to you to find out if you decided not to speak. You bent towards him, your move making your fingers brush against his, sending electricity into your system. « It’s a secret. » you sticked your tongue out and stood up. Still on the floor, Minho looked at you in disbelief. « What ? You started this conversation and now you’ve decided to remain silent ? ». Towering him, you shrugged and turned on the music to distract him.

This was an emergency. He needed to talk to Felix, right now. On his way home, he grabbed his phone on his pocket and looked for his brother’s number. He tapped on his name and waited to hear the ringtone. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. « Your contact isn’t available at the moment… » Minho swore as he was welcomed by the robotic voice. « Please leave a message after the ri… ». He hung up and dialed the number again and again and again. Finally, no automatic message but a deep upset voice, which was pretty rare. « For love sake, Minho. Why are you calling me ? I was preparing my aim. You better have a good reason to bother me and make me miss my shot. » he groaned. « My human. Y/N. She’s hesitant. » He heard his brother sighing. « And ? It happens all the time. Give her one more week and she will be ready. Now, if you may exc… » Loosing his temper, Minho cut him off. « It’s not like usual. And, for your knowledge, my clients never hesitate on their feelings. » he cockily added. Felix laughed. « Ok. Then, describe me how is it different ? ». Minho could hear the noises of the city coming from the end of the line. « I don’t feel that energy coming from her, it’s like… glowing a different way. And I have that constant itch bothering me... » he whispered, confused by the events. « Have you ever heard of someone changing their fate ? » « Minho. It’s written in the stars, it’s impossible to undo it. » the angel stated firmly. « Are you sure ? Wasn’t there any case of someone rewriting them ? » His voice felt desperate and he was. He was hundred percent sure that something odd was happening. A loud silence echoed his question. « Do you want my honest opinion ? » « Please. » he begged. « I think you’re the one with an unsteady heart. You’ve been around Y/N for too long. You’ve never spent much time with one of your assigned mortal and your magic is weakening. » Felix answered. Offended, the god of love received those words like a slap in the face. However, it would explain his discomfort. « This is nonsense. I’m telli… » but he hadn’t time to finish his sentence. « One week and not a single day more. » The ringtone resonated, announcing the final sentence.

One week. He had to calculate all his next moves. If Felix was right, nobody knew what would happened if Minho was loosing his power. Yet, he wasn’t scared about it but was terrified at the idea of loosing you forever. Once his job done, it would be as if he had never existed. You would remember a presence but would not be able to put a name or a face on it. Usually, Minho considered his mission like a book. He had to get into it, enjoy it, untangle the plot and put it on a shelf once done. With you, he wanted the story to keep going. However, he was supposed to be a side character and not a main one. The love god felt stupid and bothered by that strange sensation squeezing his heart. What was it ? He could only identify anger and disappointment. His fists were clenched and he had to fight the urge to punch the nearest wall. This is when you decided to intervene. He felt his phone buzzing. The screen illuminated the room he was in.

y/n: want to grab a coffee before class tomorrow ?

minho: sure!

y/n: perfect! see u :)

He sighed. He had to find a solution by the next morning and make you and Thomas fall in love, for once and for all. That night, the brown haired boy barely slept.

You were waiting for your friend in front of the coffee shop. Minho appeared at the corner, disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. « Wow, you definitely need some coffee. » You teased him. He groaned and opened the door for you. « Barely slept. » he briefly explained. « Thanks, I had noticed. » you scoffed. Once your coffee taken, you strolled along the path toward university campus, backpacks slung over your shoulders. « So, any plans for the weekend ? » the love god asked, trying his best to look cheerful. You shrugged, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. « Not much, just the usual. Probably bury myself in textbooks and drown in a sea of caffeine. Exams are coming up. »

Minho rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow. « Come on, Y/N, you need to loosen up a bit. Life's not all about studying. Besides, I heard there's a party happening this Saturday. You have to come with me. » Your ears perked up at the mention of a party, your curiosity piqued. It has been a while since you wen to a party and going there with Minho sounded even greater. « A party, huh? Sounds intriguing. Who's throwing it ? ». The brown haired boy flashed you a mischievous smile. « Oh, you know, just some friends from the other campus. But here's the juicy part – I heard that Thomas will be there. »

At the mention of Thomas’ name, your heart sunk a little. Maybe you would finally be able to put a word on your feelings for him, know if it was a small crush or something more serious. Maybe you would understand why you felt jelly and happier than ever around Minho too…

« Thomas? » you echoed, « Are you sure? ». The love god nodded enthusiastically. Going to a party was a simple strategy but it often worked. "Positive! This could be your chance to make a move. » He winked. You rolled your eyes. « Shush. I’m not even sure if I want to be with him anymore. » you whined. « Then it’s the perfect occasion, right ? » He was right. « Alright, you've convinced me, » you finally replied, a determined glint in your eyes. « I'll go to the party with you. ». Minho seemed relieved by your answer and closed the gap between the both of you to quickly kiss your cheeks. That sudden move of affection startled you as you brought a hand to your face. « Good! I will see you later then. » he waved you goodbye and disappeared in the corridor. As he rushed to his class, mixed feelings and a strong sensation of warmth filled his system.

When he came back home on that day, the deity decided to face his own feelings. The kiss on your cheek ? It felt natural, yet really odd. Never he had done this with a mortal before but he wanted to try again. As he sat there, lost in the midst of his own thoughts, he couldn't shake the strange sensation that had been creeping up on him lately. It was like a whisper in the back of his mind, gentle yet persistent, nudging him to pay attention to something he hadn't noticed — or even felt — before.

At first, he brushed it off as nothing more than a weakness, a fleeting moment of curiosity. But the more he tried to ignore it, the louder it became, until it was impossible to ignore any longer. It was a feeling, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting, like sunbathing on fresh grass. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, couldn't find the words to describe it, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

Suddenly it hit him, like a bolt of lightning. Could it be...? No, it couldn't. It was absurd, unthinkable, impossible. He was a god of love, he was here to help mortals not to fa… No, no, no. And yet, the more he tried to deny it, the more it seemed to make sense. He was definitely falling for you, for your laughter that echoed like music in his ears, for your smile that lit up even the darkest corners of his heart. It was a realization that sent his mind into a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

What did it mean? What was he supposed to do with these newfound feelings ? What was going to happen to you, your fate, his powers ? He felt torn, caught between the familiarity of the past and the uncertainty of the future. Part of him wanted to hold onto what he knew, to the comfort of familiarity, while another part yearned to embrace this new, unknown territory with open arms. But one thing was clear amidst the chaos of his thoughts: he couldn't ignore this feeling any longer. It was a part of him now, a piece of the puzzle that had been missing all along or messing with the stars. And whether it led him down a path of heartache, he knew he had to face it head-on, for better or for worse. He was scared, obviously. However, he would enjoy his final days with you, shoot his arrow and disappear. He would get another mission and drown his feelings, trying to forget about you for the rest of his immortal life…

Days passed by, slipping from his hands, and weekend was already there. He dressed himself up and headed to the party. As he was getting closer of his friend’s house, he felt his heart sinking. When he entered the place, the thumping bass reverberated through the crowded living room as Minho scanned the sea of faces, his heart pounding in his chest with a mix of excitement and gloom. He had promised himself that tonight would be the night he finally bonded you and Thomas for eternity, but now that the moment was upon him, doubt gnawed at his resolve like a persistent itch.

Spotting you across the room, your radiant smile lighting up the dimly lit space, Minho's breath caught in his throat. You looked absolutely stunning, your eyes sparkling with laughter — you seemed a bit tipsy too — as you mingled effortlessly with the other partygoers.

Determined to seize the opportunity before it slipped through his fingers, Minho made his way through the crowd, weaving between bodies. But just as he reached out to tap your shoulder, a voice cut through the din like a knife slicing through butter.

« Hey, Minho! What are you doing over here all by yourself ? »

Minho turned to find Felix grinning at him, a beer in hand and mischief dancing in his eyes. « Felix… What are you doing here ? »

Felix arched an eyebrow, his grin widening into a knowing smirk, except that his eyes felt low-key frightening. Minho had never seen that look on his face before. « Let me guess – you're trying to find Y/N, aren't you ? I hope it’s to do your job. Tomorrow is your last chance if you can’t do it tonight, which would honestly be a shame.»

Minho felt the heat rise to his cheeks, cursing himself for being so transparent. « Yeah, actually. I was hoping to talk to her. »

Felix chuckled, clapping Minho on the back in a gesture of camaraderie. « Talk to her about what exactly ? » he aggressively whispered. « You were right, Minho. The ancient gods noticed your weird behavior and they’re now asking for results. That’s why they sent me here tonight. Also, I hate to break it to you, but it looks like she's already found her right match."

Minho's heart sank like a stone as he followed Felix's gaze across the room, where you were engaged in animated conversation with none other than Thomas. His stomach churned with jealousy and disappointment as he watched you laugh and joke together, your easy proximity like a dagger to his heart.

Desperate to salvage the situation before it spiraled out of control, Minho racked his brain for a way to interrupt. But before he could formulate a plan, fate intervened in the cruelest of ways, as Thomas locked eyes with yours and began to make his way toward you with the inevitability of two stars on a collision course.

With a unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, Minho realized that his efforts to keep you for himself would be in vain. And as he watched you both draw closer, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been fighting a losing battle all along.

But even as the bitter sting of defeat washed over him like a wave crashing against the shore, Minho knew that he couldn't give up hope just yet. For in matters of the heart, anything was possible – even miracles. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he nearly sprinted in your direction, pushing away the guests and ignoring his brother’s screams.

With newfound determination burning bright within him, Minho felt prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that love was worth fighting for – even if it meant risking everything he held dear: his powers, his own life. Because what would happen if things weren’t turning the way they should ? He was going against destiny and it had messed up yours too. And, if he lost his powers, you would probably forgot about him since your friendship had, at first, been built on the illusions he had created.

And as the party raged on around him, Minho took a deep breath and stepped boldly between the two of you, stopping Thomas from achieving his move whether it was a hug or a kiss. The man seemed surprised and offended. « Yo… Do we know each other ? » he asked. « We don’t, but I'm here with her. » Minho held your hand in his, the warmth of his skin against your sending electricity into your veins. You looked at them, glaring at each other as a third guy — blond hair and an angelic face — approached you. Who was he and why it looked like he wanted to punch Minho in the face ? Focusing back on the brown haired boy and Thomas, you said « Minho, it’s fine we were just talking. » He turned his head, frowning, his grip on your hand strengthening. Yet, behind that visible annoyance, you could notice despair and softness in his eyes. « Well, I need to talk to you too. » Before you or Thomas could add a word, he made you follow him across the room. The blond guy was still following you but was struggling to slide between the students. You went upstairs, Minho was trying to find a place where people weren’t making out or throwing up. Eventually, a couple left one of the room, giving you the opportunity to get some privacy.

The love god closed the door behind you, letting your hand go. « I don’t have much time and I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen after but… I have to try. »

« What are you talking about ? » you chuckled nervously, your mouth getting dry. « Remember when I told you I’ve never loved anyone before ? » he asked. You nodded, anticipating. He walked closer to you, putting a strand of hair behind your ear in a tender gesture, looking at your face features as if trying to engrave them in his mind. « It took me long enough to admit it but I did… No, I do love someone. » « Oh… » you sounded disappointed, your heart starting to be torn into pieces until you felt your friend’s lips on yours. His hands cupped your face, your eyes widened as his were closing, a single tear threatening to fall anytime. Almost instantly, you drowned onto his touch, your lips moving in perfect sync as your fists were gripping his shirt. Your heart was beating so loudly that it echoed in your eardrum and you felt butterflies getting restless in the pit of your stomach.

A deep muffled voice could be heard from behind the walls as Minho delicately stepped away from you. As soon as his lips detached from yours, you started to miss them like you would miss oxygen to breathe. « Minho you know about Tho… » « Don’t worry » a tear was rolling down his cheek and he quickly whipped it. « I know you like him… But, I had to try… ». However, you didn’t feel that way about your old crush. You had a little something for him, yes, but the feeling you had for Minho was stronger than anything you had felt before. You loved him. « Minho I lo… » you couldn’t confess fully when the same innocent looking guy you had seen earlier crashed into the room.

« Minho. I hope you didn’t do anything stupid or… » however his face started to break down. Scared, you looked at Minho who was getting paler second after second. You rushed to support him as his knees felt weaker. He could feel it, his magic leaving his body. He felt so sleepy, the itch getting intense and your and Felix’s voices sounded faint. Felix cursed as he was walking toward you. « Don’t come closer ! » you warned him, not forgetting the way he looked at him before. Not listening to you, he put one of Minho’s arm around his shoulder and helped him laying down. « Wh-what are you doing ? We need to call an ambulance. » you stuttered. Felix bitterly laughed « Your mortals shit wouldn’t help him, now move aside. ».

Everything was becoming blurry and dark for the brown haired boy. Laid down, he could see Felix’s lips moving hastily, trying to cast a spell, while your hands were holding his left one tightly. « Mor… What ? ». The blond hair guy didn’t answer, his hands moving above Minho. You couldn’t see anything but the deity did. Slowly, a golden arrow was appearing on his brother’s hands, shining brightly.

You were done with this strange guy. With trembling hands, you took your phone and dialed the emergency number. Immediately, someone answered you and asked for the reason of your call.

« My friend is… He is really pale and… he doesn’t speak anymore. I… Yes, he’s breathing. No… »

Conversation kept going as you described his state, distracted and barely paying attention to Felix who was finally done casting his spell. The arrow weighted heavily on his hands, more than usual. He looked at his brother with uncertainty. The ancient gods gave him the mission to do the necessary to help Minho, no matter what, even if it had to cost him his life. His throat was burning and his hands were holding the arrow so firmly that his knuckles were turning white. With a gain of lucidity, Minho looked at Felix. Who would have thought that his biggest ally would turn out to be his greatest enemy, love itself. Minho knew what would happen if the angel was planting the arrow on his chest. He would die. It was created for mortals only and unique for each of them. Defying destiny was dangerous. Without his power he wouldn’t be able to live, he was doomed by a love curse.

« Do it. » he whispered, his words so faint he could barely hear them himself.

Felix looked at him, a frown on his face and teary eyes. The brown haired boy repeated his demand, more loudly this time. His brother closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, holding the arrow still, right above Minho’s heart. « Remember that you did this to yourself. » Felix’s deep voice broke. « I should have noticed your behavior… I’m sorry, brother. ».

Distracted by the sudden agitation at the corner of your eyes. You noticed that the blond hair guy was holding both his hands above your friend. Confused, you looked at them, not answering on the phone anymore. Suddenly, Felix slammed his fists on his brother’s chest.

The last things Minho could remember was your scream, you pushing Felix as his tears were falling on Minho’s face like a warm summer rain, his energy swirling in a thundery way around him, and the blinding light of the arrow painfully entering his rib cage. He wasn’t regretting his decision. He hoped his brother wouldn’t blame himself. As he said, Minho had did this to himself and, for as long as he could remember, he had never felt so alive. He was happy that he had been able to meet you, love you, share his feelings with you. It costed him his life, yet, he knew that it wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t part of it. Fortunately, you would forget everything about this thanks to Felix. It would be like a blurry nightmare, nothing more, even if he secretly hoped a part of you would never forget about him. With some sort of contentment, he drowned into darkness.

Darkness. Sounds scary at first but felt familiar to Minho. After all, he had been wandering in their meanders for a long time before becoming a god of love. It felt cosy, like a nest. He didn’t have to think about anything, just let himself sail around. However, that peace wouldn’t last eternally. Slowly, a reddish light appeared, troubling his comatose state, pulling him out of this world.

Bip. Bip. Bip. His eyelids were trembling as he tried to come to his senses. Opening his eyes, he noticed where the sound was coming from. A cardiac monitor was near, perfusions were attached to his wrist. Was he at the hospital ? How was it possible ? And what was that muffled noise ? Scanning his surrounding, he saw him. Felix. His face lighting up as his brother was awaking. He could tell that he was definitely fighting the urge to hold him, scared to hurt him.

« Minho! I… I can’t believe you did it… » he sputtered.

The brown haired boy was confused. « W-why am I here ? » he asked with a hoarse voice. Surprised by it, he brought his hand to his throat. Felix’s face lost his brightness as he started to explain what happened. When the ancient gods sent his brother to bring him back to reason, they also knew that, once every thousand years, a love god could fall for someone. In the manuscripts, few were the ones who survived, most of them loosing their powers before they could do anything except one case. The love god realizing the situation they were in, they decided to shoot the arrow toward themselves, the weapon absorbing all the power but not their soul.

« This is why they told me to do this. They didn’t explain why until I came back… The arrow saved you however… » Felix seemed to hesitate.

« What ? » Minho breathed out.

« You’re a mortal now. »

The blond haired man seemed sorry, it was some sort of punishment for going against fate. Minho wasn’t. He had a second chance to meet you.

« Y/N. How is she ? Does she and Thomas…» he expectantly asked, hope lacing his voice as he tried to sit up properly, in vain, his muscles still weak. Felix softly smiled at his brother. « She’s doing great. And, no, they’re not bonded… ». A sigh of relief escaped Minho’s mouth. « She doesn’t remember me, right ? » he asked, sappy. The angel shook his head. Of course. He had erased her memories with the brown haired boy. Seeing the sadness creeping up Minho’s face, Felix started to rummage into the bag he had across his chest. Finding what he was looking for, he handed them to Minho.

« Here. Welcome to your new life. »

Papers. Lee Minho. Twenty five years old. Born in South Korea. He looked at the angel, baffled. Was it real ?

« Oh! And you’re starting your final year of university this autumn. You better be ready. » Felix added.

« Excuse me ? » Minho groaned.

Several months later.

The crisp morning air was filled with the buzz of anticipation as students hurriedly made their way to their respective classrooms. You rushed through the throng of students, not wanting to be late for your first day. You glanced at your schedule, confirming the room number for your first class of the semester.

As you approached the corridor where your class was to be held, you noticed a figure leaning casually against the wall, engrossed in a book. His rugged charm caught your eye, and you couldn't help but steal a few glances as you neared him. His deep concentration on the book intrigued you. You have never seen him taking this class before. Was he a new student ?

With a hesitant smile, you cleared your throat softly, catching the attention of the young man. He looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Hi, sorry to bother you," you began, your voice soft and friendly. « Do you know if this is where the Literature class is supposed to meet? »

The young man's eyes twinkled with amusement as he closed his book, revealing a cover adorned with intricate designs in a language you didn’t know. "Yes, it is. I'm actually headed there myself," he replied, his voice warm and inviting.

Relief washed over you as you returned his smile. "Great, thank you. I'm Y/N, by the way," you introduced yourself, extending your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Minho," he replied, accepting your handshake with a gentle grip.

Your brief introduction was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door opening nearby, signaling the start of the class. You looked at your watch, realizing you were running out of time.

"Well, it looks like we better head in," you said with a nod towards the open door.

Minho agreed, falling into step beside you as you made your way into the classroom together. As you found seats near each other, you couldn't shake the feeling of serendipity that hung in the air. You didn’t know him, yet, you felt a deep connection and a sensation of deja-vu.

As the professor began the lesson, you stole another glance at Minho, captivated by his features and feeling grateful for the unexpected connection fate had brought you that morning.

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punkshort · 2 months

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because i have no self control and i'm super excited, i felt like sharing a tiny piece of what i've written so far for the first part of in another life:

You stopped dead in your tracks when you stepped into your apartment, door wide open behind you, two pizza boxes balancing in one hand as you stared blankly at the massive man standing with his back to you in the middle of the living room. He was dressed in some strange type of robe that fell just above his knee and his head was bent, looking at something on your coffee table. When you cleared your throat, he swung around and defensively placed a hand at his waist. That was when you noticed the massive and very real looking sword at his side and your blood ran cold. "D-Danny!" you yelled, your eyes glued to the stranger's hand. As if he finally sensed your fear, he dropped his arm and straightened up. "Apologies-" "Danny!" you yelled again, louder this time. "Yeah? Hey! Sorry," Danny said, hurrying into the room with Lizard following on his heels. "Oh, pizza? Sweet," Lizard said, reaching for the boxes and brushing past you as if an armed man wasn't standing in the middle of your home. "Who the hell is this?!" you exclaimed, pointing towards the stranger while glaring at your brother. "I told you already, he's a friend who's crashing on the couch for a few days," he replied, following Lizard into the kitchen, pizza the only concern at that point. "My lady," the man began again, "please allow me to explain." "My lady?" you repeated with a scowl. "I thought you guys stopped playing Dungeons and Dragons after high school." "That's not -" Danny shook his head with a mouthful of pizza, "this is General Acacius." "General?" you said quizzically, raising an eyebrow first at Danny, then towards the large man in your living room. "Be serious, Danny." "He is!" "I promise, what he says is true," the general chimed in, taking a step closer and stretching out his hand. You sighed and dropped your things onto your table. "I'm too tired for this, it's been a long week." The general frowned, hand still outstretched. "Daniel, please explain to your mistress she is not to challenge men above her lover's ranking." You balked and gagged. "Lover?!" "Mistress?" Danny said at the same with a similar look of disgust. "Gross, dude, she's my sister." Something in the general's face shifted when he learned you were siblings and he looked at you with renewed interest. "Ah, so you do not belong to another?"

#general marcus acacius #time travel fic #in another life fic #marcus acacius fic

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chihoshisai · 8 days

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Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time in other chapters) // wc : 4k words

Part 4

Open doors stood ajar at the end of a dimly lit corridor; creating an inviting trail of light into the ballroom. With joined hands at your stomach, you walked towards it, feeling a comfortable chill from your steps on your exposed upper chest while using the advantage of your tardiness to calm your nerves in the deserted area. Whether for good or for worse, most of the guests had allegedly all arrived while your hair was being put into elaborate braids, pearls lining its entanglement.

“Her highness, the princess,” the guards at the door announced upon your arrival, and all within the room, faced with the presence of another royal, turned their pair of eyes on you, out of respect, anticipation, duty and perhaps even envy.

Their blatant staring was of no importance to you — years of attending and hosting such social events had rendered you practically irontight to twinkling gazes, lustful smiles, whispers of awe and unprompted conversation. This time was no different, as you entered with your usual steadfast expression and laxed composure. Now that the desired marine blue color of the sky had been acquired, the room glistened with the yellow rows of chandeliers, and the purple wisterias found themselves tinged in a yellow oranged colorway. The room felt hot, being filled to its full capacity; voluminous dresses taking more space than necessary and homogeneous looking tailcoats, overshadowing the faces of their wearer and so as far as the eyes could see. Melodic orchestra music slithered throughout the room, carrying over chatter and people in a planned unison and offering a much joyful atmosphere to whoever took the time to listen.

Your first reflex had always been to firstly seek the company of your own blood before venturing out for the sake of greetings, politeness and interrelations; a bore that made you feel the weight of your title.

While your eyes scavenged the room for your relatives, feet leading you to lounge the walls, your ears picked up odd and unusual tonations ; snickers, vividly odd whispers and when you turned your neck in their direction, malicious looking sneering eyes were posed on you. It striked you as odd in the start — you were well aware of the simplicity behind your gown of choice — but the more you walked to find those you seeked, the more your confidence dwindled through the incessant muffled banter. Even as you made furtive eye contacts with a few, the way in which they smiled left your cheeks feeling hot with an increasing sense of ridicule up your chest.

Once the perfect example to follow as the eldest daughter of the royal line. Now currently experiencing a fall from grace.

Perhaps, not displaying unconventional norms was more challenging than you had thought. Your hands were growing damp in self consciousness as your search grew more desperate; mostly for the relief and comfort your family would hopefully provide, pushing aside your worries as trivial.

Your eyes ultimately found your twin younger siblings, chattering about near the chair earlier set for the king to sit, in the furthest end of the room. You smiled to yourself and skipped over their shared location, raising the hem of your skirt to facilitate your movements.

“I wasn’t made aware we lacked funds,” your brother teased as you came not only into view but also in earshot. A smile was hidden away by the sipping of his beverage.

You spoke while taking your last steps before fully including yourself in their company. "Why don't you go about your drinking and leave me alone?” You sarcastically told him, fighting back an eye roll due to the many watching from the crowd.

If the remarks of your youngest brother always flew over your head due to his frivolous nature, those of his twin sister mattered more than you'd ever admit aloud. "Lord, what are you wearing?” She looked you up and down with a distasteful raised eyebrow.

"Not you too,” you tempted as a way to play it cool, the earlier uncomfortable sensations caused by the guests now starting to morph into sweat at your armpits.

"It is a ball,” she pressed, giving you round eyes to make you realize your folly.

"So I have been made aware throughout the week,” you persistently kept a grip on your sarcasm.

"You embarrass me sister,” your sibling distorted her expression in a subtle disgusted one. Her remark edged you towards the remnant of your self esteem. In contrast to you, she wore a light pink off-the-shoulder gown, an exterior over the dress corset weaved with silver floral motifs, layers upon layers of lace and tulles propped over one another on the skirt, all with a shimmering accent while her loose hair crowned jewels.

"Apologies if I make for a poor example to look up to,” you gave a polite smile.

A snort came from the brother, who until now silently drank. "At least you're self aware."

"Might I point out you will not find drinks in our company,” you told him.

"You're right,” he drank the last of his cup. “If i'm to last the night with you looking like this, I’ll need quite the amount," he failed to excuse himself and went in the direction of the nearest drink mount he could spot.

"I'd rather not be pitied by standing in your company, forgive me sister and have a great night... if you can," your sister respectfully gave you a nod and went on to trail in the direction set by her twin.

You found yourself alone, perhaps quicker than the time spent searching. "What I would give to see them in my shoes," you mumbled through a sigh.

People, now that your lonesome had been guaranteed once more, seemed to have increased their staring and hidden whisper towards you. Still digesting the talk with your siblings who had shown you no kindness in mincing their words, you lowered your gaze to the plain fabric of your lilac dress — and how empty it looked. No accessories or over layers, making you wish you had stuck to your usual ball attire. One that not only wouldn't gift you sneers, but compliments and the maintenance of your social upstanding.

Now it seemed as though everything; your personality, your respect in the eyes of the populace, your value, that you had built crumbled under the simple layer of a single gown.

“His majesty, the king,” the door guards announced, and at the sight of your brother, with neatly combed hair and the most intricately exquisite ensemble of the room, you felt hope that perhaps him, wouldn't add fodder to your increasing misery.

Remembering that you stood near the chair appointed to him in the room, you maintained your solitude until his form came into your view.

“I did what I could, are you satisfied?” He came to stand by your side, scarcely ignoring his designated seat, to take a full view of the room.

Despite his earlier outburst, it seemed things had shifted here and there after your talk, such as the number of set tables. “I shall give you my answer afterwards,” you told him, having been overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the crowd.

"May I speak of your dress?”

Your heart gave a drop. "Must I hear it from everyone?”

He ignored your plea, continuing ahead with his monologue, much to your anxiety. "I can see you chose your grown appropriately for the original room decorations but... considering mother had a last minute hand in it I expected her to apply the same if not more amount of effort to you.”

You darted your eyes at him for a second with a clenched jaw. "She tried but it was too late.”

“A shame, really.”

"Yeah,” you felt your breathing gain in depth. “Especially since I feel like a fish out of a pond, exposed for all to see and laugh at.”

"You may go and change if it bothers you,” your brother put a compassionate hand on your shoulder.

"There was no time to find me a new dress. None will suddenly magically appear because I returned to my chambers in the spawn of half an hour,” your involuntary sharp words caused his support on your shoulder to recoil away. It was stronger than you, and despite knowing not to treat him that way, the constant ridicule and shutting down had put you on edge.

"Don't be so glum, give them a week with new gossip and they'll forget all about it.”

"Gossip from the palace doesn’t die quickly,” you grumbled.

"So you say,” his voice was starting to sound disinterested and distant.

"But perhaps if you were to fabricate one after tonight? In the upcoming week perhaps?” You tempted with a more enthusiastic tongue, turning your head to glance at him with hope. Truly, it would give you enough ammo to make it through the night less scathed.

He gave you an irritated look before looking back again to the masses. "You think me your servant ? I've already tried bending hell and heaven for this ball and you ask for more in such a small window time? I will not help you further with this matter. If you are displeased with your own personal choices, then the least you can do is keep your head high." He finished by walking away and disappearing into the room.

Feeling small by the minute, you bit the inside of your cheeks, fully aware that he was right. That keeping your gaze upright, looking over the conversations and laughter filled crowd would help you save whatever face you had left.

As thoughts of never venturing down such a path again tried brewing in your brain, you locked eyes with the person who had since the beginning tempted you to fall down this free for all fall. Sabo stood near a wall, his arms crossed, his attention heavily focused on you for what had most likely been a while. No snicker nor malice could be traced on his features, which much to your relief slightly appeased your worrying.

You were unsure of which expression to give in turn. A smile? A nod? Surely not a wave. Instead you made your way to skip and cross guests, momentarily stopping here and there when a conversation was brought to you by others, no doubt with vile intention, by subtle innuendo of your attire. Despite that, you allowed the emotions to pile up, pent-up deep within your heart to finally greet Sabo in godd spirits.

“Good evening,” you gave your first genuine smile of the night.

Sabo gave you a quaint nod, turning his attention instead towards the crowd, more precisely scrutinizing the room. It dawned upon your mind that the last time since you spoke to one another did, despite the lack of malevolent intentions, end up rather bitterly. Even so, you went to stand nearby him, keeping your hands joinned near your bodice, thinking of starting anew with the broken feelings of a last encounter behind.

“Might I inquire of your thoughts on the venue? You seem quite engrossed in analyzing it.”

“It's not what I expected.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, figure brimming with a piqued interest. “How so?”

“It's far less embellished than I had expected,” he turned while you internally marveled at your accomplished goal, to look you in the eye. “Can I assume that is your doing?”

“I'll take it you like it then. The room was heavily tampered with by an unforeseen variable, but it relieves me to hear your thoughts.”

“I see you have backed up your earlier claim of having more power than meets the eyes,” Sabo remained unfazed by your words. “But tell me, why would you do such a thing? What of the other nobles and their thoughts?”

His questions were far from unexpected on your part and you let your eyes wander over to the dancers in the center of the room while smoothly delivering a reply you had turned over in your head like a broken record. “I couldn't give two crumbs about them. This ball wasn't planned in their honor but in ours. And why would I remain a bystander while a ball that would disregard your taste was being organized.”

Sabo uncrossed his arms, taking a step to blur your vision of the waltzing dancer, to fill it instead with his blue attire. “You're satisfied with this?”

“I had wished for far less,” you upheld your gaze in his, noticing the colors of his eyes drowning away your earlier affliction, until an announcement came to rob the moment away.

Your brother had found his place in the midst of his seat and spoke with a conventional tone after having bought the attention of all the guests, interrupted the dancing, eating and quelled the music. “Tonight, dear guests, we are assembled to announce the news of an engagement in our family.” A buzz occured, in which you looked at Sabo with a playful look to meet his blank stare, but soon did the murmurs were nipped in the bud and calm returned. “I humbly announce that my youngest sister, her highness the princess, is now engaged to Sabo, son of Outlook III.”

It happened in an instant — eyes, from all over bolted in your direction, lighting a sense of red exposure on the tip of your ears. You were used to attention, but still its clamor would never cease to be overwhelming. Thankfully this time you weren't solely exposed as you glanced at the arm Sabo extended your way. A small gesture, but one that made you feel supported in this limelight. Grateful, you circled your own arm around his and walked, head proud throughout the room, the misplaced sneers and comments momentarily stunned by the news and rendered silent all the way to the King's chair.

“The betrothed everyone, let us wish for a happy marriage,” your brother spoke once you had both made it through to stand in front of him. “Give them a warm applause,” he ordered to the crowd, and as both you and Sabo turned, the once backstabbing guests delivered an obliged cheer, one that enforced your ambition to see this through rather than let it fall apart.

A deafening exclamation filled your ears, and as you looked through the crowd, you perceived the genuine, congratulatory faces of your younger siblings, offering a nice contrast to the fabricated elation of the nobles. Including Sabo’s family who seemed delighted to give thanks and shake hands with honor to whoever stood around them.

You looked up at Sabo to see his blank face hardening under a rigid, conventional smile ; one that sent shivers down your spine as it looked more ominous than sincere. An expression you had never seen him arbor before. What could possibly go on in his mind, you thought, remembering his lucid agitation against nobility.

He caught sight of your eyes, twisting his smile up into a polite one that didn't fail to bring about his attractive traits. His arm that had been freed of your clutch upon meeting the king raised to extend a steady hand in your vicinity.

“A dance, if you may your highness?” He asked you, bending his upper body slightly as proper dance invitations would have it.

You saw him at your level, a look of trust reflected in his eyes, exuding a serious yet alluring charm unbecoming of a noble who only performed this act for the sake of duty. And yet.

Your heart leaped. Quite strongly/fast.

You accepted his hand, slipping your fingers into his sturdy one for the second time, now under favorable circumstances, while your mind tried throwing reminders not to get attached. Not when nothing was set in stone. But infatuation had already been cast over you — your heart wasn’t the only thing affected, for a heat started rushing across your cheeks and a bemused smile pushed through your lips.

Sabo squeezed your hand in response, leading you across the path formed by the parting audience and to the middle of the ballroom. This time you walked by his side, glancing at his side profile ; an opportunity that had been deprived the one time he infuriatingly led you by the hands. An opportunity you now basked in as you took notice of the soft shadows candlelight painted on his features. Delicate, sharp and well maintained.

While musicians readied their instruments, you both exchanged bows. Now standing before one another, ignoring what coursed through the audience, you smiled, a flourishing one brought about by the moment. And even though Sabo simply returned a curt one, it was enough to satisfy you, to see him leave behind his blank state. In fact, as he stepped closer, circling a firm hand on your waist to bring you in closer, at a respectful distance rather than an intimate one, and squeezing your raised hand, you felt elated. In turn, poring into his eyes, you steadied a hand on his shoulder and once more welcomed the warmth that came from such proximity with another.

Even as the music started, time stretched into a simple eternity — Sabo led the pace and you gladly let him, curious to learn more of his dance style than provide a showcase of your own personal skills. Twirling, spinning and stepping in a rhythmic way, your blood pumped in your head while you came to acknowledge, and like the commanding way in which Sabo led you about, nonetheless taking advantage of your arsenal of skills.

“You surprise me. Days of dance lessons weren't taken lightly by you it seems,” you spoke aloud, using the symphony and privacy granted by the proximity.

“Dancing isn't so bad, if you compare it to everything else,” his expression had regained a more grave one.

“You enjoy dancing?”

“It is one of the few universal pleasures of life,” at that, he gripped your waist using both of his hands, utilizing the momentum of the music to spin you in the air, as a testament to his claim.

You, who reflexively stabilized yourself by holding on to his shoulders expecting the mouvement, couldn't help but feel your grin increase in wideness as a rare lower view of Sabo basked in your vision.

After your heels had found the ground, brushing aside his absence of similar delight on his features, you kept your questioning. “I wasn't expecting you to keep up with this farce so accurately in front of everyone.”

“I told you, didn't I? That I at least wouldn’t cause you harm in other’s eyes. It’s only a ball and I hope the only social event we’ll attend together.”

The only event…? Was he planning on limiting social appearances to a minimum? But why? As you furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to ask for further details, you felt yourself interrupted by the joining of other pairs to the dance floor. Enough time had passed for other duos to join as the appropriate solo rundown of you along with Sabo, guests of honor, had run dry. Therefore, shadows started appearing in your peripheral vision, and you weren’t clumsy enough to tread a delicate conversation with them waltzing so close to your side.

As such you gave a comprehensive nod along with a polite smile.

The remnant of the waltz was spent in quietude; your eyes darting about over Sabo’s upper body, taking notice of the veins in his neck, the details of his scar, the way in which his neck cravate edged on the loose side, rather than keeping eye contact with him. You were reminded once more, after the thrill of a new experience subsided, that your fate stood incertain. And yet here you were, slowly growing more than attached to someone you could barely keep in your grasp.

Eventually, the melody of the orchestra came to an end, bows were exchanged and the floor evacuated for new pairs of dancers. Sabo and you both reentered the crowd side by side, and as you foresaw, were greeted by a crash of curious tongues wanting of gossip, by offering congratulations and wishes first.

Used to such a display, their banter flew over your head, making you notice the way in which Sabo’s expression darkened. Displeasure was hidden behind his polite composure, yet etiquette had it that it was far too early for an excuse to leave. Therefore you pressed on, taking the initiative in every conversation in his stead. Smiling, chuckling, slithering venomous remarks if provoked, until your own arsenal of skills neared its depletion.

“If you would excuse us, sirs, madams, but my fiance and I have an urgent matter to discuss between ourselves,” Sabo spoke to a ring of inquisitors, his arm extending towards your silent form for you to take.

As you did, playing along by exchanging insipid goodbyes, you waited until your trail led you far enough from the talkers to whisper the reason behind his act. “An urgent matter to discuss between ourselves? What an unoriginal excuse if I've ever heard one.”

Sabo brushed aside your comment, his eyes searching for the safest route as he led you about the crowd. “You seemed quite tired out there.”

“Did I? I didn't notice,” you glanced up his way, only feeling a slight pain from your heels.

“Your lips were stiffening in between conversations,” Sabo spared you a momentary side glance, one that made you acknowledge his attention to details through surprised brows. “Let's get out of here,” he accelerated his pace, almost dragging you along the room without waiting for your reply.

You had remained in silence, at first flattered by his care but soon curious as to his destination. “Where are we going?” The two of you now walked a deserted corridor nearby the ballroom. On this festive night, candles had been freed from certain parts of the castle to prevent the scurrying of unwanted guests and make sure a single path was followed. A path which Sabo derived from the seconds guards looked away — and it had surprised you to see him furtively trutt about in your own home, skillfully unnoticed.

You stopped, tugging on his arm to inquire him to look your way. “Sabo!”

He turned, freeing himself from your clutch with a single glance down your hand. “Nowhere in particular, away from that wretched place,” he crossed his arms and went to sit on the nearest windowsill. “You're free to go wherever you wish now, your highness.”

You cringed at the sound of your title. “Spare me your sarcasm at least for tonight. I've heard my fair share of incredulous remarks and body languages.”

“Due to your dress?”

You sighed a heavy lamentation. It drained you enough to go and sit by next to Sabo, the exhaustion of the day soon to set throughout your body. “Mind adding to the long list of comments? Perhaps it is too drab? Simple? Inappropriate? Original? Share your thoughts,” you waved an uninterested hand his way, fighting the urge to lean on the window’s glass.

“It looks good on you. Far from obscene like the other women,” his tone hid no trace of malice, which prompted you to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and to your surprise Sabo’s expression had been washed away from its blank state to appear more relaxed. “I like it,” he finished with a nod.

You smiled teasingly, feeling skeptic towards your first compliment of the night. “You're exaggerating.”

“I mean it.”

You shifted to turn your knees in his direction, hiding internally the shy glee that propagated throughout your core, sweet and warm with innocence. “And yet you won't take me as spouse.”

Sabo brushed aside your remark, visibly unwilling to tread back on old waters. “Did you not enjoy yourself tonight?” It might seem as though his question was asked out of courtesy, yet, based on a brief profile you had formed of him in your mind, you discerned more to his question than meets the eye.

“Would you like to know my real answer?” You asked with a nonchalant air.

“It is what I asked for.”

You shrugged. “I did not,” the answer came plainly out of you; after a sour night, how could one possibly find enjoyment were they in your shoes? You knew saying otherwise would make you appear frivolous in Sabo’s image of you, and for that fact felt grateful of the hurtful bitter truth being what it was.

“Oh,” Sabo gave you a quizzical look, his knees edging likewise in your direction.

“But it isn't your fault. It is the guests, they are despicable,” you admitted, for once sharing a similar minded opinion with him.

“I hear you. I've experienced that part of them myself. Not a great experience.” He thinned his lips, giving you a sympathetic look, which you gladly met sheepishly.

“Indeed,” you fiddled with your hands while Sabo kept his surveying of your features. Ultimately you sharpened the grip on your intertwined joints as you spoke. “Are people the same as here where you wish to live?”

To your relief, the question wasn't deemed impertinent nor too personal on Sabo’s part as he gave you a genuine response. “Far from that actually, no one judges another for their clothing, all the food gets eaten until there's nothing left and there isn't such abundant waste.”

"Sounds like a nice place to live,” you pointed out with a dreamy smile. Here, you took advantage of the max atmosphere, thinking of Sabo’s guard being down to seize his hands into your own in order to plead your case by appearing to this rare, but currently present, amiable side of him. “But in truth Sabo, I wish for us to spend more time together. We don’t have to attend social events as you wish, but simply be the two of us together in our company while the engagement lasts.”

“You would only end up hurt”

“I wish to do everything correctly while things still stands, rather than lament at my own inaction,” you gave a slight pressure to his palms.

A pause occured in which his expression became unreadable, giving the false impression in which he considered your words. “Then promise me something,” his fingers gripped on yours with found urgency, his steady gaze meeting yours for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes?” Your heartbeat accelerated under anticipation, hanging on at the idea of hope that would bear fruit.

“Promise me you will up the wage of your staff, offer them more days off and treat them well. To them our life might seem just as unjust as the way the nobles treated you inside that ballroom,” Sabo delivered, much to your inexpectation. Of course he would think of the well-being of the populace before the possibility of marriage — and you were a fool for wishing otherwise.

Irked, you loosened your pressure over his hands and looked over the window. “I don't have power over the internal affairs of the castle.”

“It is important, you must try.”

“It won't be easy but I suppose I can try speaking to the king,” you folded under his pressure, aware that resisting would simply push him further away, and you closer to a doom in another country.

Sabo freed himself from your weak clutch to join your hands together, covering your palms in that motion with his and offering a gentle brush atop your skin to bring back your attention to him. “I'll see if I can spare you some time on my end.”

Your heart leaped at his initiative, tempting you to press for more while your brain wanted to speak of a promise too, but the bell struck a new hour; by being far from the festivities it made itself heard quite well.

“It is late, you should retire for the evening,” Sabo advised you with a slight pressure on your joined body parts. “Unless you wish to go back there?”

“God no,” you shook your head, hoping it would fade away the cherry color that settled on your face.

“Then I'll take my leave too,” he rose, letting go on your left hand but keeping a firm grasp on your right. Before you were granted the opportunity of inquiring the reason behind his act, thinking it might be to help you up your feet, you were met with the unforeseeable. A kiss, from his lips, soft, delicate and well placed, deposited itself on the back of your hand, causing the cherry color of your cheeks to become that of a burning fire. “Good night,” Sabo whispered.

“Good night.”

Part 5 in progress

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