#if you want to know we accept here just ask :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edenesth · 3 days

Text

TWTHH Spinoff: Love to Hate You [2]

Pairing: royal secretary!San x female scholar!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 10.7k 🤡

Summary: San prided himself on his knack for building easy connections with women, viewing himself as a trusted ally for the opposite gender. Thanks to his deep bonds with his mother and sister, he possessed keen insights into the female mindset. Never did he imagine facing the ire of a woman, until he encountered a resolute female scholar with a strong dislike towards men.

A/N: I'd recommend listening to Laufey's Valentine while reading this, the song is quite perfect for this spinoff.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Now, tell me, why were you crying?" you inquired, halting at the doorway of your house, careful to shield your mother from the conversation. You understood that she would only blame herself if she knew he was upset, despite none of it being her fault. Deep down, you knew she carried the burden of not being able to protect her children, always feeling like an inadequate mother.

Siwoo shook his head, "It's nothing, noona. I just... I was just overwhelmed with all the schoolwork on my first day. But don't worry about me, I feel much better after letting it all out," he reassured, attempting to alleviate your concerns. Yet, you couldn't fully accept his explanation. While a part of you ached to think he might have been bullied by his classmates, as you had feared, another part of you swelled with pride at his resilience.

That's my boy.

"Is that so? Well, come on then, dinner might be ready," you responded, and he brightened at the mention of food. "Dinner sounds good, I'm starving! Mother, we're home!" he called out excitedly, darting into your modest abode almost immediately.

"How was school, Siwoo?" your mother asked, her fingers smoothing down his unruly hair as he dug into his meal with gusto. Siwoo grinned and nodded. "It was okay! Master Lee looked after me really well, just like noona said he would!" Your mother smiled warmly and wiped a stray bit of food from his cheek. "That's good to hear."

You couldn't help but smile at their exchange, though you sensed Siwoo's words were meant to reassure your mother more than convey his true feelings. While Master Lee might have looked after him in their presence, you knew all too well the dynamics of school life and the possibility of bullying when no adults were around. Unfortunately, he would have to learn to navigate those challenges, just as you had.

Finishing your meal, you tousled your brother's hair. "So, what did that man from earlier say to you?" Your mother raised a curious eyebrow. "Man? What man?" Siwoo perked up. "Oh, that kind hyung-nim! He was just making sure I was okay."

You scoffed. "Kind? You don't even know him. People can seem nice but have hidden motives. Don't trust too easily, or he might want something from you." Turning to your mother, you elaborated, "It's His Majesty's royal secretary. We had an unpleasant encounter at the palace. I had hoped never to see him again, but somehow he was at Siwoo's school when I went to pick him up. How many coincidences can there be? I'm certain he's up to something. So, you," you directed a stern look at your brother. "Don't entertain him if he shows up again, okay?"

Siwoo nodded reluctantly, his expression turning sullen. Your mother shook her head. "Or perhaps he's genuinely nice...? He's an important figure, after all. You shouldn't make an enemy out of him, dear. I worry for you." You offered her a reassuring smile. "I'll handle it, mother. Don't worry about me."

Later that night, as you lay in bed, the soft breathing of your brother beside you with a comforting rhythm, you couldn't help but feel a pang of bittersweet emotion. Siwoo, once the tiny bundle you cradled in your arms, had grown so quickly before your eyes. Memories of his infancy flooded your mind, the moments when you'd rocked him to sleep and comforted his tears.

Now, here he was, trying to shield his own emotions from you, not wanting to burden you with his struggles. Your heart swelled with both pride and a tinge of sadness as you gently stroked his head, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his forehead. How you wished he could remain your precious little brother forever, sheltered from life's harsh realities.

Yet, another part of you longed for him to mature, to become the pillar of strength this family needed. You yearned for the day when he would stand beside you as a protector, capable of shouldering the burdens that weighed heavily on your shoulders.

"Sweet dreams, little one," you whispered softly, your voice barely a whisper in the darkness. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the tranquillity of the night envelop you as you drifted into slumber, your dreams filled with hopes for the future.

The next day unfolded much like the one before, with the familiar routine of dropping Siwoo off at school. Kneeling beside him, you tenderly adjusted his hanbok and smoothed down his hair, your actions a comforting ritual between siblings.

"Well, I have no new advice for you today, except to stay strong and not let the words of others affect you. Remember, they're just words, and you can choose not to let them bother you," you imparted, noticing the flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he had been caught keeping secrets from you. With a warm smile, you gently pinched his cheeks to alleviate any worries he might have.

"Now, go on and get in there. And no causing trouble!" you teased, prompting a playful protest from Siwoo as he swatted your hands away and stuck out his tongue. "Bye, noona! See you later!" he called out cheerfully as he headed off to join his classmates.

As you watched him go, a soft smile lingered on your lips, filled with both pride and a touch of wistfulness.

He'll be fine; we've been over this.

You proceeded towards your educational institution to resume your own studies, putting aside worries about your brother for the moment. As you arrived at the entrance, you took a deep breath to ready yourself before entering, clutching your books tightly to your chest.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Miss Smarty Pants finally showed up. Heard she even resorted to borrowing books from the royal library," Namgil, the scholar with the wealthiest father and your longtime tormentor, remarked as he annoyingly strolled alongside you, trailed by his group of cronies. One of them chimed in with a smirk, "Poor thing can't even afford her own books. Maybe if she catches the eye of some high-ranking officials in the palace, she won't need to study so hard at all."

Maintaining a neutral expression, you continued walking towards the foyer, where you could begin your studies undisturbed with the presence of teachers. Despite the taunting remarks being a regular occurrence during your journey from the outside to the inside of the institution, you had grown accustomed to them.

Reaching the foyer, you pivoted to face the group with a wide, sarcastic grin. "Well, boys, have you had your fill? If we're done wasting precious time trying to bring others down to boost our own fragile egos, maybe we should focus on our studies. After all, if we want to avoid squandering dear old daddy's money, we'll need to graduate. Time's ticking, gentlemen. Are we going to remain stuck in this childish behaviour forever?"

The satisfaction was palpable as you flashed a victorious smile and turned to stride into the foyer, leaving them no room for a rebuttal as a teacher emerged to greet the group. They hastily composed themselves, offering respectful bows and pretending as though nothing had happened.

Fools, you thought to yourself. This was precisely why you harboured such disdain for men. They were simplistic creatures, falling into one of two categories. The first, like Namgil and his cronies, were openly mean-spirited, condescending, and misogynistic. The second, exemplified by Royal Secretary Choi, was the cunning, duplicitous types who sought to earn your trust through false kindness before exploiting you. In the end, they were all cut from the same cloth.

At the end of the session, following a quiz intended to assess everyone's preparedness for the final examination, you unsurprisingly emerged as the top scorer once again. The teacher's announcement was met with the usual mixture of reactions, but your attention was drawn to his subsequent remarks.

"Miss Moon, once again, you've secured the top spot. Namgil, while second place may seem like an achievement, you should feel nothing but shame. All of you should. It's unacceptable to be outperformed by a woman. Study harder; I expect to see a different outcome in the next quiz."

You shook your head in disbelief at the teacher's words, seething inwardly at his ingrained bias. The implication that a woman should not surpass men in intellect spoke volumes about his archaic mentality. You were tired of being spoken about as if you weren't in the room, tired of the inherent sexism that permeated every aspect of your academic life. Graduation couldn't come soon enough; you were determined to prove these narrow-minded individuals wrong.

I'll show you morons.

"Oh boy, I know that look," Haneul remarked, shaking her head with a disapproving sigh as San emerged from his room the next day. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his usual enthusiasm and determination shone through. She suspected her discouraging words from the previous evening had backfired, knowing her brother was just an optimistic idiot like that.

He scoffed, "What do you know? Go home already, noona. Your husband might start to worry if you keep visiting so often."

With a smirk, she lightly whacked him on the head. "I'm leaving today, don't you worry. But don't say I didn't warn you when whatever silly plan you might have ends up falling through. You men just love learning things the hard way, don't you? Let her be, Sannie."

"Yeah, yeah. Safe travels. I'll catch you later."

Haneul rolled her eyes in defeat. "Fine, fine. Send me away like I'm a nuisance. You should learn something from little Siwoo."

Turning back with a sarcastic grin, the royal secretary teased, "If you say so... love you, noona!" and blew her exaggerated kisses, earning a mockingly disgusted reaction. "Yuck! Save that for your future wife, gross!" she exclaimed, pretending to gag.

San strode through the palace corridors with newfound determination, his mind buzzing with plans and possibilities. He greeted the palace staff with a bright smile and a confident demeanour, earning curious glances from those he passed.

As he approached the royal study, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. Today was the day he would begin executing his plan, the day he would show Scholar Moon that he was different from the rest, that he was sincere in his intentions.

Entering the king's presence, San found himself greeted with the warm smile of His Majesty. The elderly man's eyes twinkled with amusement as he observed his secretary's energy.

"You seem quite cheerful today, Royal Secretary Choi. Anything exciting happening in your life?" the king inquired with a chuckle as their daily meeting concluded.

San's grin widened, his heart racing with anticipation. "I suppose so, Your Majesty. I won't say more until I see positive results," he replied cryptically, unknowingly leaving the king to interpret his words as he wished. Little did the fool know, his vague response led His Majesty to believe he was referring to romantic pursuits.

The king's face lit up. "Oh, I can't wait to hear the good news. Best of luck, my boy. That's all for today. Carry on with your tasks," he said with a playful wink, dismissing San with a clap of his hands.

Secretary Choi bowed deeply, feeling grateful. "Thank you, Your Majesty!" he exclaimed before leaving the royal study, his mind already buzzing with plans to win over the female scholar.

He made his way through the library, exchanging nods with a few scholars absorbed in their studies. As he searched the aisles, hope waned with each passing moment. Nearly ready to give up, he reluctantly admitted to himself that you might not be there today. With a resigned sigh, he turned to leave.

But as he moved to exit, a flash of movement caught his eye. Turning back, he was stunned to see you tucked away in a quiet corner, fast asleep amidst a pile of borrowed books. A wave of tenderness washed over him at the sight of your peaceful form, and he approached you with silent steps, not wanting to disturb your rest.

He couldn't resist the urge to approach and observe you, struck by how serene and angelic you appeared in your slumber, a stark contrast to your usual tough and guarded demeanour. Seeing the sunlight streaming in from the nearby window and casting a glare on your face, he settled into the seat opposite you. With a gentle touch, he lifted his hand to shield you from the brightness, intent on preserving your peaceful rest.

Looking down at you like this, perhaps it was his innate sense of chivalry, but it stirred an intense urge to protect you, to help shoulder some of the burdens you must be carrying on those delicate shoulders of yours. He couldn't shake the feeling of admiration mingled with empathy as he watched you, lost in tranquil slumber amidst the chaos of the world around you. With a soft sigh, he longed to offer you more than just protection from the sun's glare, yearning to provide solace and support in any way possible.

As he watched you stir, letting out a small groan before readjusting your head and settling back into sleep, he felt a slight panic. However, his worry melted away when he realised you were merely shifting in your slumber. A soft sigh escaped him, accompanied by a gentle smile and a flutter in his heart at how endearing you looked.

Gosh, she looks adorable.

Resting his head on his palm, he continued to observe, noting the subtle signs of exhaustion etched across your beautiful face. Unlike other girls or women who likely had access to luxurious skincare products or ample rest to maintain their beauty, it was evident that any resources you had were dedicated to supporting your family and pursuing your studies. His gaze drifted to your hands, noticing the dry skin, blunt nails and paper cuts, evidence of both physical labour and tireless studying.

Gazing at you, his mind wandered to the challenges and hardships you must have faced throughout your childhood, shaping you into the resilient and guarded person you are today. He pondered on the beliefs you held about men, likely influenced by your past experiences. Working in the palace, San was all too familiar with the despicable behaviour of some men, having witnessed their deceit and manipulation firsthand. He understood, perhaps more than most, your strong aversion and distrust of men.

Yet, in his heart, he believed that you hadn't met men like him and his friends—men of integrity and genuine kindness. Determined to prove to you that good men existed, he resolved to show you through his actions. He was determined to be the exception, to demonstrate that not all men were as duplicitous as those you had encountered before. And in that moment, as he watched over you, he silently vowed to be the beacon of goodness and sincerity that you deserved.

Lost in his contemplations, he was jolted back to reality when he felt your hand push his away. Startled, he blinked, realising that the sun he had been shielding you from was now obscured by clouds. Your voice, sharp and incredulous, pierced through his thoughts.

"What in the world do you think you're doing, Royal Secretary Choi?" you demanded, your tone laced with annoyance and curiosity.

Flustered and caught off guard by your abrupt interruption, San quickly cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, feeling the weight of your scrutiny upon him. He could only imagine how his actions must have appeared from your perspective: waking up to find an uninvited man seated across from you, hand raised in an attempt to shield you from the absent sun.

"I-I can explain," he stammered, scrambling to find the right words to justify his actions. "I was just trying to—"

But before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off with a sarcastic smile, your words dripping with disdain.

"Let me guess," you said, your tone biting. "You just wanted to help? I thought I made myself very clear yesterday, but it seems I might not have. In case you missed the point, I'll repeat it again: I don't need your help. Thank you very much."

With that, you gathered all the books in your arms and swiftly exited, leaving him feeling chastised and uncertain of how to proceed.

As he sat frozen in his seat, watching your retreating figure, the royal secretary couldn't help but admire your firm resolve. Instead of feeling discouraged by your rejection, he found himself respecting you even more for it. Your unwavering stance showed him that you weren't one to let someone into your life easily, and in a world where men could be deceitful and manipulative, that was a reassuring trait. He couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for you, even as he remained seated in the library, contemplating his next move.

Making your way out of the palace, your heart still raced from the encounter in the library as you clutched the stack of borrowed books close to your chest. Unbeknownst to Secretary Choi, you had been awake for some time, waiting to see what he would do, ready to catch him red-handed if he attempted anything untoward.

To your unpleasant surprise, you found that the glaring sun that had once been on your face was gone. Peeking through your lashes, you observed San going to great lengths to shield you from the brightness, even though he must have assumed you were still asleep. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his character.

Even with his apparent kindness, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that he had done it without any ulterior motives. There had to be something he wanted from you; you were sure of it. You refused to let your guard down, you remained determined to stay wary of his intentions.

Despite your hopes that San would quit his efforts after the incident in the library, he proved to be annoyingly persistent. However, to your surprise, he no longer offered unsolicited help, seemingly aware that you had not asked for it. Instead, he chose a different approach to get closer to you.

Every day as you entered the palace, he greeted you with a bright smile and a friendly "good morning." You found his amiable demeanour irritating because it made it challenging for you to be rude to him when he was simply being a nice and sociable person. With no choice but to reciprocate his greetings, you returned them with a forced smile of your own, not wanting to appear impolite in front of other palace staff.

Today was no different, much to your dismay. Despite your multiple attempts to arrive either earlier or later than your usual time, he always seemed to be there. Deep down, you wanted to bluntly ask him if he had nothing better to do. Shouldn't a royal secretary be busy? Why was he always lingering around?

Approaching the entrance and spotting him, you couldn't help but slap a hand on your forehead in frustration. You tried to turn away, but he called out to you before you could make your escape.

"Scholar Moon! I see you're here early today. Good morning!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

You cursed under your breath and reluctantly turned back to feign a smile, bowing respectfully. "Indeed, I am... Good morning, Royal Secretary Choi," you replied through gritted teeth.

He beamed at you and gestured for you to join him. "Come, let us head in together!"

Letting out a sigh of disbelief, you put on your best fake smile and complied, knowing it wouldn't be in your best interest to be rude to someone of such high importance in front of other people. Damn it, you couldn't wait for the day to be over already.

Walking beside him, you sought a moment of tranquillity, but as expected, he initiated an unwanted conversation like always.

"How's Siwoo adjusting to school?" he asked, his tone overly chipper.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you briefly squeezed them shut before replying, "He's doing well. Thank you for asking."

His smile widened at your response. "That's great! I just hope he's feeling better than the last time I saw him. Poor boy was so upset."

You sighed, cutting him off before he could continue. "Yes, but he'll live—"

Before you could finish, a group of rushing court ladies surged around the corner. "Out of the way! Concubine Eom Heebin is giving birth!" Amidst the commotion, you were shoved aside, but a firm pair of arms caught you, guiding you to safety—San's arms.

You landed against his chest with a huff, and he peered down at you with wide eyes. "Careful there, watch your step! You alright?" His words lacked their usual formality, driven purely by instinct.

San gulped audibly, his gaze lingering on your features as if trying to memorise every detail. He marvelled at how beautiful you looked up close, relishing the sensation of holding you tightly against him. It felt strangely satisfying to shield you from danger, to have you vulnerable in his arms. There was an inexplicable desire within him to be the only one who knew how it felt to hold you like this.

Meanwhile, you felt a conflicting array of emotions swirling within you as you found yourself in his embrace. Despite your best efforts to maintain your dislike for him, you couldn't deny the unexpected sense of safety and comfort you felt in his arms. It unsettled you, this lack of disgust, and you hated how nice it felt, how it threatened to unravel the walls you had carefully constructed around your heart.

Realising your proximity, you blinked rapidly and pushed yourself away. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you..." For once, you meant it.

Days passed, and you found yourself in a state of inner conflict whenever you were around him. Previously, you had to force yourself to maintain politeness and hide your disdain for him, but now, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be unpleasant.

You despised this newfound feeling of guilt he stirred within you, as if he was silently reproaching you for your past behaviour. Moreover, he continued to prove himself to be just as kind as everyone claimed, further complicating your emotions.

Hate brewed within you—not for the royal secretary as a person, but for the way he was challenging your beliefs about all men being alike. He made you start to doubt the certainties you once held dear, and you resented him for it. Most of all, you detested how he was making it difficult for you to maintain your animosity towards him.

Regardless of the swirling new emotions within you, one thing remained constant: your determination to avoid him at all costs. You were sick and tired of the conflicting feelings he stirred within you, and you knew that indulging in them would only serve as a distraction from your studies.

You needed to maintain your focus and drive, especially now when your responsibilities weighed heavily on your shoulders. The last thing you needed was to be sidetracked by unnecessary emotions brought about by a man, of all things.

But of course, life seemed determined to defy your efforts. Despite your best attempts to avoid him, it felt like he was everywhere you turned. With each passing day, you found yourself encountering him more frequently, almost as if he were purposely crossing your path.

The realisation was hard to swallow: you were seeing him more often than your own mother and younger brother combined. It was infuriating to admit, but no matter how hard you tried to evade him, he seemed to find a way to appear wherever you were.

As you finished up your studies and prepared to leave the palace, a sense of relief washed over you. Today had been the first in what felt like an eternity without a sighting of Royal Secretary Choi. Hope flickered in your heart as you packed up your belongings, eager to leave the palace behind and reunite with your little brother.

But just as you approached the main entrance, the sky darkened ominously. Thunder rumbled, and lightning streaked across the sky before a torrential downpour engulfed the area. "No, no, no, not now! Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" you muttered under your breath, feeling frustration bubbling up inside you.

With no umbrella to shield you from the rain, you hurried to seek refuge under the closest shelter you could find: the awning of a nearby building. The sudden change in weather dashed your hopes of a smooth departure, leaving you stranded and drenched.

The thought of Siwoo waiting for you added to your unease. You cursed your lack of preparation, knowing that he would now have to endure more time with his bullies. It was another setback in a day that had promised to be free of Choi San's presence.

Yep, I'm convinced god hates me.

While you sheltered under the awning, your gaze remained fixed on the entrance, torn between the desire to run out into the rain to your brother and the realisation that falling sick was not an option. Too many people depended on you—your mother, your brother, and all the women in need of your assistance. You couldn't afford to be unwell, not with so many responsibilities resting on your shoulders.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice a figure approaching from behind until the raindrops abruptly ceased falling around you. Looking up, you were met with the sight of an umbrella being held over your head. Startled, you turned to see San standing beside you, concern etched on his features.

"Are you alright, my lady? Please allow me to escort you to your destination," he said, his voice gentle and sincere.

The royal secretary's surprise was evident when he realised it was you, causing him to stumble over his words in an attempt to explain himself. "O-oh! It's you, Scholar Moon! I swear I didn't realise it was you, I thought you were a palace staff or someone else! I mean, I wasn't trying to offer help when you didn't want it, or maybe I was..."

He paused, then continued, "But I promise, I'm not making any assumptions! I can leave if you want me to... I'll leave the umbrella with you, of course, because obviously little Siwoo is waiting for you. Sorry, I don't mean to ramble... I just— here you go." Without waiting for your response, he thrust the umbrella into your hand and hurried off into the rain, leaving you standing frozen in bewilderment, trying to comprehend the unexpected encounter.

As you stood there, still holding the umbrella he had left behind, you couldn't shake off the words he had said. They lingered in your mind, his voice echoing gently, making you question your own feelings. For the first time, you understood why women might find him charming. Despite your resolve to dislike him, you couldn't deny his physical attractiveness and his gentlemanly nature.

But as you thought about it further, a new emotion crept in—an unsettling realisation that his kindness wasn't reserved for you alone. He would be just as sincere and helpful to anyone in need. Suddenly, a twinge of jealousy stirred within you. Why did it bother you that he treated others with kindness? Why did you feel upset that you weren't the only one receiving his attention? What was wrong with you?

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you grappled with these unfamiliar feelings. You couldn't understand why it mattered to you whether he was nice to everyone or not. But the fact that it did matter left you feeling even more bewildered. What were these emotions, and why the hell were they stirring within you now?

Lord, I must be out of my damn mind.

In the days that followed, your annoyance with San returned, but this time it was for a new reason—one you stubbornly refused to acknowledge. Despite your efforts to keep your distance and maintain your walls around him, you found it increasingly difficult to do so. His presence seemed to linger in your mind, his gentle demeanour and persistent kindness chipping away at your defences.

Meanwhile, the royal secretary remained hopeful after his recent encounters with you. He noticed the subtle changes in your behaviour—the once sarcastic smiles and curt words slowly giving way to genuine attempts to interact with him. He knew your pride was likely the barrier keeping you from fully opening up to him, but he was determined to break through it.

Perhaps it was the sense of accomplishment he felt, but he found himself increasingly consumed by thoughts of you and the challenge of breaking down your barriers to earn your trust. Each day, he eagerly anticipated going to work, knowing he might catch a glimpse of your beautiful face. Lately, he noticed it revealing more than just anger and disdain—it showed hints of other emotions too. He longed to witness them all, to be the first and perhaps the only one to see them. He felt a swell of pride, both in himself and in your progress, even if you were unaware of it.

"You like her, don't you?" San's gaze snapped up to meet his mother's, his chewing momentarily halted as he raised a questioning brow. "What are you talking about, eomma?"

She grinned, gesturing towards the additional lunch box he had instructed the servants to prepare for work that day. "Oh, you mean Scholar Moon? I mean, yeah, I guess I do...? I like everyone," he responded with a cheerful beam. However, her expression shifted to one of knowingness as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not what I mean, you silly boy. You have feelings for her, don't you?"

He choked on his food in surprise at her assertion. "Huh? Wh-what makes you say that? You know about my mission to prove her prejudice wrong, that's all there is to it. I don't feel any differently about her than I do about any other lady."

With a knowing smirk, the elderly woman caused him to wince. It was the same sarcastic expression his sister always wore before delivering a harsh truth. "Oh yes, because you make a point to greet every female palace staff member every morning, ask about all their family members, never stop talking about them, and ensure to pack extra lunch for them all just like you do for Scholar Moon, isn't that right?"

As his mother's words settled in, a sudden revelation struck San like a bolt of lightning. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth that had been hidden from him until now. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had begun—perhaps it had lurked beneath the surface from the start, waiting for the right moment to surface.

He had been so preoccupied with proving to you that he was different, so focused on challenging your prejudices, that he hadn't stopped to consider his own feelings. What had started as a mission might have morphed into something more. The concern and care he felt for you went beyond mere kindness; it was a genuine desire to protect and support you.

Reflecting on the moments when you had occupied his thoughts—the incident in the library, the near-accident with the court ladies—he realised that his feelings ran deeper than he had admitted to himself. Even as he grappled with the conflict between wanting to take care of you and respecting your independence, he couldn't ignore the truth any longer. Choi San was a man with a lot of love to give, and he wasn't shy or ashamed to admit that he had developed feelings for you—feelings that transcended friendship or admiration. It was a realisation that both surprised and invigorated him, filling him with anticipation for what the future might hold.

But he wasn't stupid; he understood that acknowledging his feelings didn't equate to knowing yours or if you could ever reciprocate them. Despite this, he chose to find contentment in this understanding. He wouldn't expect anything from you in return. Your happiness would suffice to make him happy, even if it meant remaining mere acquaintances.

With this resolve, he bid his parents farewell before heading to work, his heart fluttering at the prospect of seeing you once more.

Later that afternoon, San strolled around the area where you often spent your lunch breaks. Spotting you in the secluded pavilion near the royal library, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Instead of your usual packed lunch, you were nibbling on a meagre steamed bun. Approaching you with a grin, he greeted you.

"Good afternoon, Scholar Moon. I see you're having lunch as well," he greeted, and you nodded quickly, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed about your modest meal. Just as you were about to ask him what he wanted, he revealed the bag of lunchboxes he had been hiding behind his back.

"That's wonderful then. My family estate kitchen staff seemed to have made an extra set of lunch, and I was just wondering if maybe you would like to have it," he offered. You raised a sceptical eyebrow. "An extra set? That seems highly unlikely to happen."

He tried to maintain his composure despite being caught in a fib. "Fine. If you're not interested in it, I'm sure there are other palace staff who would enjoy it," he said, turning to leave. Panic surged within you as he started to walk away. "W-wait! I'll take it... please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm. With a satisfied nod, he settled down beside you.

That's what I thought.

As you opened the meticulously prepared lunchbox, a look of awe graced your features. The royal secretary chuckled at your adorable expression. He observed as you hesitated for a moment, glancing at him as if seeking approval before starting to eat. With a nod of encouragement, he joined in.

Little did you know, he had overheard some court ladies discussing the struggles faced by a female scholar, which could only be you, as you were the only one known. They recounted your struggles to afford essentials at home due to your brother's school fees and your own lack of income, all because of your dedication to your studies.

As you both began to eat, you didn't notice San biting his lip to hold back his laughter. Your eyes had widened and sparkled with innocent amazement at the flavours, a look he had never seen before. The sight made his heart flutter, confirming his feelings for you. He wanted to protect that innocence forever and be the only one to witness this endearing sight. He could easily picture spending time with you like this for life, and he knew he wouldn’t complain.

When you looked up and caught him staring, he quickly returned his gaze to his food. You blushed and checked your lips for any stray rice, wondering why he had been looking at you like that. Like a creep.

How annoying.

Relieved that there was nothing on your face, you continued eating. However, you furrowed your brows as you noticed the secretary picking at his food from the corner of your eye. Unable to contain your curiosity, you turned to see him pushing aside all the greens in his container. Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Saving the best for last?"

He chortled, "Like hell I am."

Realising what was going on, you scoffed, "Seriously? The great Royal Secretary Choi doesn't eat his vegetables? Even my brother eats his. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He sputtered, clearly embarrassed, and you snickered at how flustered he appeared over your teasing. Glaring at you, he retorted, "Is that any way to talk to the kind samaritan who just treated you to lunch?"

You shrugged. "I'll treat anyone who doesn't eat their veggies the same way, with discrimination. If you won't eat them, give them here, you big baby."

He pouted, about to hand them over until you added, "Siwoo's going to be so disappointed when he hears about this. He looks up to you and thinks of you as his role model, you know." You gasped, realising you had revealed something you hadn't meant to share, but all your regret dissolved when you saw his reaction to your words.

San's jaw dropped, and he quickly snatched the greens back, stuffing his face with them. "There, I finished them. You happy now?!"

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. In moments like this, you wondered how wonderful it would be if all men were like him. You admired how his eyes crinkled as he joined in your laughter. He could be so annoyingly cute and likeable. Gosh, you hated it. You hated how warm he was making you feel, hated how good it felt.

As the two of you calmed down from your giggles, the smiles remained on your faces. You finished the last of your food, neatly wrapped the lunchbox back up in his bag, and handed it to him. "Thank you, Royal Secretary Choi," you said, your voice sincere.

His heart skipped a beat at your genuine gratitude. With a nod of acknowledgement, he reached out to take the bag from you. Both your breaths hitched when your fingertips brushed against each other. The unexpected contact sent a small, electric jolt through you both, causing you to momentarily lock eyes.

San's eyes softened, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. The world seemed to pause, and for a fleeting moment, the two of you were the only ones that existed. You could feel your pulse quickening, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin.

"You're welcome," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He took the bag, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary before pulling away.

You quickly looked down, trying to steady your racing heart. "I should get back to my studies," you said, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

"Of course," he replied, standing up as well. "Take care, Scholar Moon."

With a final nod, you turned and walked away, feeling his gaze linger on your back. A small smile tugged at your lips as you wondered what it would be like if moments like these with him became a regular part of your life. You found your own thoughts baffling, as no man had ever made you feel such emotions before.

Could he possibly... be the only exception?

No, he could not.

You should have known better. Should have recognised the trouble he brought along despite his constant insistence on helping. Initially, you felt grateful for his frequent gestures, like bringing you lunch and accompanying you to pick up your brother from school during the rainy season, the three of you huddled under his umbrella—a sight that warmed your mother's heart.

For a while, it felt like being on Cloud 9. But in hindsight, you must have lost your mind to let him get so involved in your life. It seemed foolish to rely on him so much, to let him become so close to you and your family.

And inevitably, there were consequences.

You reached your breaking point when the bullying at your educational institution intensified. Rumours about you and the royal secretary spending time together spread like wildfire among your fellow scholars, leading to endless torment.

As you tried to leave the institution, hoping to find solace at home after enduring what felt like hours of torment, Namgil and his cronies blocked your path, their mocking laughter echoing around you like a cacophony of cruelty.

"Leaving so soon, Miss Smarty Pants? Off to see your beloved Royal Secretary Choi, I presume?" he jeered, his voice dripping with malice. "Who would've thought your success was all thanks to him? Must have made quite the deal to get him to treat you so well. Bet you're not so innocent anymore, huh?"

His words cut through you like knives, causing your steps to falter as you froze in place, the implications of his cruel insinuations hitting you like a ton of bricks. "Should've known," Namgil continued, his tone laced with venom. "All you women are good for is spreading your legs."

You felt a wave of humiliation wash over you, a burning rage rising up within you as you struggled to hold back tears. They had no idea what you had been through, the sacrifices you had made to get to where you were. But at that moment, all you could do was stand there, feeling utterly defenceless against their relentless cruelty.

Meanwhile, San couldn't shake off his growing concern for you. He hadn't caught sight of you all day, and his inquiries around the palace yielded no sightings of you either. The court ladies confirmed that you hadn't visited the palace at all, which only deepened his worry. You had never missed a day before, and the thought of you being sick or in trouble made his heart sink.

Leaving work that day, the extra lunch he had prepared for you still in his hands, he hurried over to your brother's school in hopes of finding you there. However, his heart sank further when he only found Siwoo waiting by the entrance as usual. The child's face lit up when he spotted the royal secretary.

"Hyung-nim! Did my noona send you here to pick me up today?" Siwoo asked eagerly. The royal secretary shook his head, his concern evident in his expression.

"No, Siwoo-yah. She hasn't been to the palace either. Do you know where her institution is?" San inquired. Your brother's expression turned worried, but he nodded.

"Yes, I do! Let's go find her!" Siwoo suggested, but San gently shook his head.

"No can do, you tell me where and I'll go. Your mother will worry if neither of you are home," San explained. The child reluctantly agreed, but not without making a request.

"Okay, but promise me you'll bring her back," Siwoo pleaded. The secretary gave him a reassuring smile and pinky promised him.

"Don't worry, I will."

As San approached your institution, relief washed over him when he spotted your familiar figure not too far from the main entrance. However, his relief quickly turned to concern when he noticed you weren't alone. Surrounding you were a group of male scholars, their expressions and body language indicating that the conversation was far from pleasant. His heart twisted uncomfortably at the sight of your wet eyes and defeated look. Were you being bullied?

With clenched fists, he stepped closer, his brows narrowing in anger as he overheard snippets of the conversation. It was clear that the group was making disparaging remarks about you. His blood boiled when he heard the leader of the gang suggesting that you had been selling your body in exchange for your success. How dare they?

These bastards.

While San understood that your previous encounters with men must have been unpleasant for you to harbour such a strong dislike for them, witnessing you being treated in such a manner was a first for him. It was no wonder you hated them so much; who could blame you? But he was here now, and he was determined to change that.

He stalked over, his towering and intimidating presence startling the scholars. "Are my ears deceiving me, or did I truly just hear such vile words coming from a scholar?" he demanded, his voice icy and authoritative. "Watch your words because rest assured, your headmaster will hear about this. Not only were you being misogynistic, but how dare you insinuate such despicable things about Scholar Moon? This woman has more integrity than all of you combined. She doesn't need any man's backing—not even mine—to get where she is today. She is fully capable of achieving that on her own, and I think you know that, given how your insecurity and jealousy are blatantly showing through your nasty actions."

The scholars' faces turned pale, their bravado evaporating in the face of the royal secretary's fury. He stepped closer, his fists clenched, ready to defend you from any further insults. The leader of the gang opened his mouth to retort but quickly thought better of it, swallowing his words and casting a nervous glance at his friends.

"L-let's go, guys," Namgil stuttered, bowing before scrambling away. They weren't stupid. This was His Majesty's royal secretary, and if he reported them to the king, they would face dire consequences. There was nothing to gain from angering him.

San turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone he had just used.

Instead of a grateful nod like he had expected, you met him with a darkened expression. Taking deep breaths, you tried to hold back your tears and calm yourself down. When you remained silent, glaring at him, he sighed. "Was that too much? I—I'm sorry, I know you can defend yourself, but I just—"

You cut him off, speaking in a low voice, "This is all your fault, Choi San."

He froze, his heart clenching painfully at the last words he expected to hear from you. You continued, harshly wiping away stray tears with your sleeves, "If only you'd just leave me alone like I asked from the beginning… I've been bullied all my life, but the usual nonsense I could endure. Not once—never—had anyone ever implied something like that," you whispered the last part. "And it's all because of you. Haven't you done enough? If you truly want to help me, then please—god—please, just leave me alone."

With that, you walked out of the institution, leaving him reeling in shock and hurt at your words. This was not how he had imagined things would turn out.

San finally realised that maybe his sister had been right. If distancing himself would make you happier, he’d do it, even if it meant suffering from being away from you. From that day onwards, he would make sure to keep his distance, honouring your wish.

You went to your younger brother’s school that evening and were surprised to hear that he had already been picked up. Panicking, you rushed home and were relieved to see Siwoo safely at the entrance, waiting with your worried mother. He clung tightly to you as you stroked his hair.

"Who brought you home?" you asked softly.

He sniffled, "Sannie hyung-nim… he promised he’d bring you home, but he lied. You came home alone."

You sighed, holding the child closer as guilt slowly crept into your heart. "He didn’t lie, Siwoo-yah. He did come to me, but I was the one who left him."

Your mother watched you with concern, her eyes reflecting relief and confusion. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "What happened, dear?"

You hesitated, the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "I— I just... he won't bother us again, mother. I made sure of that."

Siwoo looked up at you, his eyes wide with innocence and confusion. "But why, noona? He was so nice to us."

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you hugged your brother tighter. "It will protect us. It will make things easier."

You were aware that you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. But you would rather die than admit it. You were Scholar Moon, the first female scholar in Joseon, and you didn't need a man to survive. You never did, and you never would. Choi San was merely a hindrance, but he was now in the past. Things would finally return to normal. You would excel in your exams and fulfil your dreams. Everything would be fine.

Or would it really?

Days following that proved much harder than anticipated. The royal secretary had indeed left you alone, as you'd requested. While you should have been glad, a part of you felt irritated by his obedience. You resented that he hadn't fought harder, but you knew you had no one to blame but yourself. You felt difficult to deal with. Surely, a man as good as Choi San deserved someone better than you. He had gone above and beyond to help you for the past few months, yet all you gave him in return were harsh words you... likely didn't mean at all.

Wait, what even are these thoughts? None of that should matter; it's all in the past. You needed to focus on your studies.

With a massage of your temples, you attempted to reread the same sentence you had been struggling with for the past hour. However, endless thoughts of that stupid man kept resurfacing, haunting you and weighing heavy on your heart with an unpleasant feeling you wished would disappear. God, did you hate him. Why was he so annoying even when he wasn't around?

You hated how he consumed your thoughts.

Everywhere you turned in the palace, he lingered in your mind. Each time you picked up your brother, he intruded into your thoughts, and even passing by your educational institution's entrance reminded you of him. What was wrong with you? What had he done to you? You were fine before meeting him, and you would be fine now. You kept repeating this to yourself, but all resolve crumbled when you saw him approaching one morning in the palace. It was the first time seeing him since that day—the day you'd uttered those cruel words to him.

You froze, clutching your books tightly to your chest, bracing yourself for whatever words or actions he might deliver. However, your heart sank when he simply passed by with a respectful nod. Why did that sting so much? You had brought this upon yourself. The urge to chase after him was overwhelming, and you squeezed your eyes shut to suppress the longing.

Pull yourself together, this is for the best.

You didn't need him.

Or did you?

Why does it hurt so much?

The atmosphere between you and the royal secretary had shifted, turning awkward and strained. Everyone in the palace could sense the change, the tension that now defined your interactions—or rather, the lack thereof. The once easy camaraderie had vanished, replaced by uncomfortable silences and fleeting, cautious glances. It wasn't long before word reached Namgil, who seized the opportunity to make your life even more miserable. The bullying intensified, but you endured it all, determined to pass your final exam without incident.

Time flew by, even as you suffered.

You buried yourself in your studies, hoping to push him out of your mind. Every page you turned, every line you read, was an attempt to forget the way he made you feel. The palace corridors, once filled with the warmth of his ever-comforting presence, now echoed with your lonely footsteps and the quiet rustle of your books.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, your final examination was approaching. The weight of the upcoming test pressed down on you, but it was a welcome distraction from the pain in your heart. You could still see him in the palace, still catch glimpses of his familiar figure in the distance, but the gap between you felt insurmountable.

On the eve of your exam, you found yourself in the palace library, surrounded by stacks of books and scrolls. The dim light of the lantern cast long shadows across the room, mirroring the shadows in your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

Then, without warning, the door creaked open, and there he was. San, standing in the doorway, looking just as conflicted as you felt. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"Scholar Moon," he finally said, his voice low and hesitant. "I heard your final exam is tomorrow. I wanted to wish you luck."

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "Thank you, Royal Secretary Choi."

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I know you asked me to leave you alone, but I just want you to know that I believe in you. You are more than capable of achieving your dreams."

Tears threatened to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I appreciate that," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, it seemed like he might say more, but then he simply nodded and turned to leave. As the door closed behind him, you felt a pang of regret. You had to fight everything in you to resist running after him, holding onto him, telling him how much you regretted everything, how wrong you had been, how much you… missed him.

No, stop it.

You took a deep breath and returned to your books, knowing that tomorrow's exam was the key to your future. You had to stay focused. You had to succeed, even if it meant pushing aside the feelings you couldn't quite shake.

The next morning, your mother smoothed your robes as you prepared to leave for the palace where the final examination would take place. Her hands were gentle, but the pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

"This is it," she whispered, a soft smile on her face. "All your hard work will pay off today. You will finally be someone in this land. The first female scholar-official in Joseon."

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Today was the day you had worked so tirelessly for. Today, you would prove yourself.

"You look beautiful, noona!" Siwoo cheered, his excitement contagious.

You smiled down at your little brother, ruffling his hair. "Thank you, Siwoo-yah. I'll make you proud."

As you stepped outside, the morning sun casting a golden hue over the palace grounds, you felt a surge of determination. You wouldn't have time to think about a certain annoying man who had been invading your thoughts more than you cared to admit. You wouldn't let the memory of Choi San torment you more than Namgil and his friends ever could.

With each step towards the examination hall, you reminded yourself of your goals. You were Scholar Moon, the first female scholar in Joseon. You were about to make history.

As you entered the courtyard, the confident bounce in your step reflected the culmination of years of hard work and determination. You were oblivious to the devious grins Namgil and a few other scholars exchanged as their gazes followed your figure.

"There she is," Namgil sneered, nodding toward the bridge above the large pond that everyone would later cross to reach the examination hall. A wicked idea formed in his mind. "Remind me, boys. It would be impossible for someone with drenched clothes to participate in the final examination, is that correct?"

They snickered, immediately understanding his implication. "Yes, I think that is right."

You moved through the crowd, nodding to a few familiar faces, your mind already focused on the examination ahead. You had no idea that behind you, Namgil and his cronies were plotting to ruin everything you had worked all your life for.

As the time approached for the scholars to cross the bridge and enter the hall, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenge ahead. This was your moment, and nothing would stand in your way.

Or so you thought.

As you stepped onto the bridge, Namgil and his cronies moved into position. With a quick, coordinated push, you were sent plummeting into the pond below. The cold water enveloped you, and panic set in immediately. You flailed, trying to keep your head above water, but it was futile. "H-help! Please!"

Laughter erupted from above. Namgil and his friends stood at the edge of the bridge, their mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

"Oops! Looks like Scholar Moon won't be making history today," Namgil taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

"I... c-can't swim..."

Everyone froze, the courtyard falling silent as your bully's laughter ceased. The realisation hit them like a ton of bricks: the pond was much deeper than they had anticipated, and you couldn't swim. Your desperate cries for help echoed in the sudden stillness, turning their malicious prank into a potential tragedy.

Panic spread among the scholars as they realised what they had done. What began as sabotage could now be seen as attempted murder, and their futures hung in the balance. Namgil's face drained of colour as he watched you struggle, knowing full well the consequences of their actions.

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for them, San happened to be dropping by to observe the examination. His heart plummeted at the sight before him. Without a second thought, he pushed through the panicked crowd of useless men and plunged into the pond, desperate to save you.

His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up from the depths. He swam with determined strokes, bringing you to the safety of the pond's edge. As he hoisted you onto solid ground, he checked for signs of life, his own breath coming in ragged gasps from the effort and fear.

You coughed and sputtered, expelling water from your lungs as you gasped for air. San's relieved expression melted into one of fierce protectiveness and anger. He turned to face the group of terrified scholars, his eyes blazing with fury.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

Namgil and his friends could only stammer incoherent excuses, their earlier bravado replaced by sheer terror. The royal secretary's intervention had saved you, but it had also sealed their fate.

A few examiners rushed out just in time to witness the chaos, their expressions darkening at the sight of the guilty, terrified faces of Namgil and his cronies. Realising the gravity of their actions, the bullies pleaded for mercy as they were escorted away to face the consequences.

The royal secretary turned toward you, gently brushing aside the damp strands of hair that clung to your face, his touch tender. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his concern evident in his expression.

Your lips quivered at the tenderness in his voice and the worry etched on his face. He was the first and only man to care so deeply for you, and you couldn't fathom how you had repeatedly pushed him away. But now, tired of denying your feelings, you couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes. With a broken sob, you shook your head. "No… I'm not," you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

He hesitated for a moment, startled by your sudden embrace, before returning it, enveloping you in his arms. "What's wrong? Tell me," he murmured, his voice laced with concern.

You sobbed harder, weakly hitting him. "It's you… y-you're so annoying, you know that? I hate it so much… hate that I love you."

He pulled back, wide-eyed, holding your shoulders at arm's length as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes. "Wh-what did you say…? This isn't a dream, is it?"

Through your tears, you chuckled at his reaction. "I finally muster the courage to confess to you, and that's your response?"

His smile broke through, the one you adored so much, the one where his eyes disappeared into slits, bringing warmth and comfort no matter how hard things got. Pulling you back into his arms, he stroked the back of your head. "I love you too..."

"How's your first day as a Scholar-Official, Moon?" inquired the royal secretary as you grinned at him. "It's going well, Royal Secretary Choi. Thank you for asking."

After he assisted you in petitioning His Majesty for another chance at your final examination, arguing that you were merely a victim of foul play, you were granted the opportunity. As anticipated, you passed with flying colours, ranking at the top of the batch. Finally, you held the prestigious title of scholar-official.

However, that wasn't the only change in your life. Choi San openly courted you, much to the king's approval, solidifying your status as a formidable power couple.

Leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead, he smiled, "I'll see you after work."

You blushed and gently pushed him away. "Not here, please. But yes, I'll see you later."

As you left the palace after your day's work, you spotted a familiar face. Smiling, you greeted her, but your steps faltered when she bowed respectfully.

"Hi there. I remember you," you said, trying to recall where you had met her before.

She grinned knowingly. "Yes, it's good to see you again, Scholar-Official Moon. I suppose you believe my words about the royal secretary now, don't you? After all, you and he are the talk of the palace."

Your cheeks flushed, recalling that she had been the court lady to disclose San's identity during your initial encounter. You nodded awkwardly, trying to recover from your embarrassment.

She chuckled softly. "Well then, don't let me keep you. Royal Secretary Choi is waiting for you by the entrance."

Your heart soared at the sight of San standing by the entrance, just as the court lady had claimed. He was waiting for you, and the realisation filled you with an indescribable warmth. This wasn't just any man; this was your man. Yours alone. The sight of him, tall, handsome, kind, and caring, reaffirmed your feelings.

Without a second thought, you ran over, calling out, "Sannie!" He turned towards you, his face lighting up with that beam that never failed to make your heart race. His arms opened wide, and you leapt into them, feeling a rush of joy at being in his embrace.

"I missed you, honey," he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

You pressed your lips against his, relishing the moment as his response came swiftly, his kiss soft and reassuring. Pulling back slightly, a smile played on your lips, your heart dancing with joy. "I missed you too, my big baby," you teased.

"Come on, remember you wanted to learn more about my past?" you said, chuckling at the pout on his face as you pulled away.

He nodded eagerly, and you took his hand, leading him towards a place you hadn't visited in a long time.

"So, this was the root of your hatred for men…" he murmured, his gaze fixed on your father's grave as you stood beside him. You had just finished recounting everything that had transpired, from the beginning of your existence to the hardships you endured to reach where you are today.

"Yes, but you showed me that not all men are the same," you replied softly, your voice tinged with gratitude.

He gently squeezed your hands, turning to face you with a serious expression. "And I won't stop showing you. I promise I'll be different from your father and every other man you've encountered. I'll protect you and your family as if they were my own. I'll strive to be the best husband to you and father to our future child. You'll never have to suffer alone again. I'm here for you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You chuckled softly through your tears, nodding in response. "That's amusing… I don't recall agreeing to be your wife just yet. What are you talking about, Choi San?"

He let out a playful whine, "Hey! You—wait... you said 'yet' though, so that means... you will eventually, right?" he asked hopefully.

Teasingly, you stuck your tongue out at him before turning and running away. But deep down, you knew that no matter how far you went, he would always be there to catch you.

Of course, you idiot.

Holy crap, I was gone for like 2 weeks and I return to 1.85k+ followers?! ASDFGHJKL thank you all so much😭

Anyway, I hope this was decent, y'all... I swear, I didn't plan for this part to be so freaking long HAHA but I just felt like it would take quite a bit for her hatred to turn into love hehe I hope the ending didn't feel rushed or anything :3

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! ❤️

Tag list (1/9):

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

@lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim |

@scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa |

@ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 |

@naps-over-degree @brown88 @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to this heart #love to hate you #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #historical au #joseon era #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez fic

324 notes · View notes

acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 days

Text

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX

Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird Taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate.

He hadn’t been to bed.

In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.

So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.

“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.

“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him.

And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—

It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.

But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.

As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren.

“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”

Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”

Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.

Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”

Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.

He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”

He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.

But this was different.

He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her.

He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”

“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”

“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”

Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”

Silence.

The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face.

“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again.

And once more, silence.

Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”

The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”

Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”

“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”

The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying.

Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”

“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.”

The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed.

“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”

“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”

“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”

Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words.

Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her.

“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”

“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”

“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in.

Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now.

He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet.

“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”

“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.”

At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed.

But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?

He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then.

“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic.

“So do I,” Azriel agreed.

Gods, he really did.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.

It was all background noise.

Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.

Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.

Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire.

You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…

But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—

Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men.

“Last orders!” you called.

Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.

“Last orders,” you repeated.

“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”

It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.

But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.

“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug.

The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”

Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—

“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”

Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”

“…It’s my cycle.”

A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.

They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission.

This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.

And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown.

Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another.

Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready.

You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known.

And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach.

Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five.

When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread.

You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night.

And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you.

Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear.

You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him.

“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”

You swallowed. “Hello.”

He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”

“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”

Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”

You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak.

You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”

Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world.

And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away.

You didn’t.

Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his.

“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider.

“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”

Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air.

It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into.

He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.

The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”

You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin.

But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now.

“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown.

You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing.

You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face.

But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again.

It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.

“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”

You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”

“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”

You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm.

“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning.

It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land.

But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him.

“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”

You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you.

But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.

But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?

“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.

A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground.

You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing.

You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae.

You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street.

If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.

This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.

You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.

Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.

The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.

But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place.

You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance.

You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give.

But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”

Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?

Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.

“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”

How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams.

“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”

Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”

“Secret and guarded? Why?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.

The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more.

But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.

“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”

Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.

This place was beautiful. It was…life.

And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places.

Just like in the human lands.

Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along.

“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?

There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”

And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.

“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”

Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out.

A fight he ultimately lost.

“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”

A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you.

You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris.

“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse.

“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”

You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness.

A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to.

“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.

Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand.

And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at.

“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue.

“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”

Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.”

A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.

“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.

With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside.

The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel.

“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”

“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”

You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing.

He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers.

And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality.

“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”

“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”

Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you.

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”

Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory.

“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”

“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?

It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up.

The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family.

Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone.

She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.

It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.

“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”

Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”

“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”

Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.

How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.

“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”

At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”

Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”

“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”

Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.

“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat.

Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.

“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”

A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister.

You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing.

As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”

“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”

You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people.

And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time.

They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life.

Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one.

You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.

You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him.

It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes.

“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here.

You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”

A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”

Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.

And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours.

He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.

Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”

“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”

His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”

A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.

He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”

So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—

“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”

Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”

“…just a friend?”

“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”

The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear.

“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice.

You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so.

“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”

A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone.

“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him.

“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”

“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”

“And fear. I feel scared.”

Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.

“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”

His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.

“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”

It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting.

Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him.

This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation.

The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with.

Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer.

And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you.

“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”

Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.

Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs.

And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it.

You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.

“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.

Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.

And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.

This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.

You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.

And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did.

It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants.

You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further.

Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin.

Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.

“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”

You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.

“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”

It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”

“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”

Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch.

Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows.

No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room.

“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx

334 notes · View notes

uzurakis · 1 day

Note

PLS I BEG U, can u do a falling into arguments but this time with nanami?

FALLING INTO ARGUMENTS!?

featuring: nanami kento. yuuta okkotsu. fushiguro toji.

n. yes nonnie, no worries! thank you for requesting ^__^ PART 1 HERE

NANAMI KENTO

the exhaustion from nanami's long day at work seemed to radiate off him, his shoulders slumped and his expression weary.

"you just don't understand," he sighed, his voice heavy with frustration. "i can't keep up with everything all the time."

your heart sank at his words, the sting of hurt creeping into your chest. "i'm trying, nanami..” you said softly with voice trembling slightly. "but i don’t like it when you throw your frustrations on me." nanami's gaze twiched with regret, but his exhaustion seemed to overshadow it. "i know, and i'm sorry," he muttered, his tone lacking conviction. "i didn't mean to take it out on you."

tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "i just wish we could talk it you instead of you bottling it up," you muttered.

nanami reached out to touch your hand, but his touch felt cold and distant. "i'll try," he said, his voice hollow. "but i can't promise anything. i’m sorry. but i’ll try.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

tension buzzed in the air as you and yuuta faced one other in the room. the argument had swiftly escalated due to unacknowledged inconveniences and miscommunications.

"i can't keep doing this, yuuta," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "you always seem to go ahead with whatever you want, regardless of how i feel about it."

yuuta's expression remained impassive, his eyes avoiding yours as he fidgeted with his hands. "i just thought it would be easier this way," he grumbled.

however, easy wasn't what you needed. you needed to be heard, that your thoughts were important. "it's not about making things easier," you said, your tone harder now. "it's about respecting what i feel and not doing things your own way because you feel that’s more acceptable."

he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "i know, and i'm sorry," yuuta said, tinged with regret, "i just... i get caught up in the moment and i don't think."

for a minute, quiet fell between you, the weight of unspoken words filling the space. and as you sat there, it dawned on you that perhaps this cycle of disagreements and apologies was a pattern neither of you could escape.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

"toji, i really need to talk to you about something," you said hesitanly, your heart heavy with the weight of your concerns.

toji glanced at you briefly, a distracted smile flashing across his face. "hm?" he replied, his tone casual, as if he were barely listening.

you swallowed hard, pushing past the knot of frustration building in your throat. "i've been feeling really overwhelmed lately," you confessed, "and i would appreciate if you’re here for me."

toji's response was a nonchalant shrug, his attention already drifting away from you. "ah, it's probably not that big of a deal," he said, dismissing your words, "you'll get over it."

but it was a big deal to you, and toji's lack of concern only served to deepen the sense of isolation you felt. "it's not that simple, fushiguro toji," you said, more frustrated, "i need you to take this seriously."

his expression hardened slightly at your words, his indifference giving way to annoyance. "look, i'm sorry if you're upset," he said, tone defensive, "but i can't drop everything to deal with your problems right now."

the words stung, a painful reminder of how alone you felt in your struggles. "i'm not asking you to drop everything," you replied, "i'm just asking for your support."

but toji's attention had already shifted, and he continued gazing at the room around you. and while you sat there, the weight of your troubles greater than ever, you couldn't help but feel as if you were dealing with them alone.

@uzurakis — rqs are open ^^

206 notes · View notes

nuticecream · 2 days

Text

How windbreaker characters react to you let go of his hand when get on the elevator.

this is inspired by a trend i saw on tiktok , where the girl let go off their hand with the boyfriend and see if they noticed or not or what is their reaction

character include : sakura ,suo ,kaji , umemiya

gn!reader , established relationship , slight ooc (?) , shortly after getting into relationship

Sakura

Recently , there is a very popular challenge on the internet to randomly let go of your boyfriend's hand to tease them.

He usually bravely and smoothly fight but as soon you tease him , he becomes a flustering cat. You know that Sakura blushes whenever he has close contact with someone , so when you go out to the mall , you grab his hand and interlock your fingers with his. This is a must do for a couples on a date. And Sakura's face turned red the moment you guys entered the mall and even his ears are flushed red , and his eyes were wandering around.

While quietly waiting to step on the elevator , you quietly let go of his hand.

Sakura is frightened by your sudden action , he looks at his hand and his first reaction is that you dislike him, so he accept your action. Are you the same as everyone else , do you think he is strange , don't you want him...

You watch him slowly lowing his head , his expression become more and more sad , you hurriedly chased after him.

Damn.

You forget that your silly cat alike boyfriend are still sensitive to rejection related actions. When you ran up three steps or more than five steps out of breath , Sakura was also at the elevator waiting for you. You hurriedly walk up to him , grab his hand and said

'' Sakura , listen to me. I didn't mean to let go of your hand , this is just a trending challenge with boyfriend i saw on internet , I was wrong I won't do it again next time , I didn't mean to hurt you. ''

He was stunned by your words and actions , his ears redden. You saw that Sakura was stunned and didn't react , thinking that he was still sad , so you hurry and kiss him lightly on the face.

''...! HUH?!! WE ARE STILL IN PUBLIC , WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!'' You smile and shake his arm as if you're asking for his forgiveness.

'' Don't do that next time...There are too many people here...'' After saying that , this time he took your hand before you.

Suo

As soon as Suo enter the mall . He felt that you as his lover was planning something , your eyes is erratic.

He couldn't help but look at it , and secretly thought in his heart.

' y/n's expression is so cute '

You have always been used to holding his arm and gently leaning towards him when walking. When entering the elevator , you suddenly took his hand instead of his arm. Suo was surprised , your personality has always been introverted , easy to be shy , holding hands and hugging between couples , he always the first person to move everytime. Looking at his hand that was firmly held , Suo raised his eyebrows , feeling something are gonna happen.

'' Suo , I want tot go upstairs for a walk. ''

In order to complete your plan , you can't help but speak first. In fact , you've no bottom in your heart . Suo usually smiling and you want to try this challenge because you want to see a different side of him.

Actually , you've quite looking forward for his reaction . Is he gonna be surprised or angry...? The thought of seeing a different side of your boyfriend make you unable to hide the smile on your face. Of course Suo caught the attention of your face.

When you're about to go up the escalator , you were about to let go of his hand . But you found out that hand holding that was controlled by you at the beginning was suddenly clenched tightly by your boyfriend.

Now he's the one controlling the challengge.

Kaji

you have always found his actions cute , even if he rarely shows it in front of you.

The last time you saw the other side was when you went to his school to look for him , and you're teased by his friends.

" Are you the Captain's girlfriend?"

Then you saw your usually clan boyfriend suddenly yelling,

" DON'T BE NOSY , YOU GUYS! ITS GOING TO SCARE HER"

Then he pulls you away as if nothing had happened , as if he wasn't the one he was angry at just now. You find out afterwards that he thinks his friends are too close to you. But the time you're impressed , you become interested in exploring more side from kaji.

This challenge is the best opportunity.

You deliberately let go of Kaji's hand when you got on the elevator , and he also noticed your movement at the first time , and when he was about to hold you backhand , he was brought up by the elevator moving under his feet. Then there is an unexpected scene , Kaji quickly walks down the elevator in the opposite direction , regardless of the danger.

By the time you come to your senses , he's already back with you.

Kaji frowned , and couldn't help but raised his voice abit

" y/n , do you know that if you suddenly let go of my hand. You will fall!"

Then he takes your hand by himself , interlocking his fingers with yours , and even puts your hand in his jacket's pocket and the palm of his hand firmly imprisons you. You laughed at his childish behavior , and he didn't ask you let go of your hand at the first time but was afraid that you would fall.

Sure enough , my boyfriend is also cute in some ways.

Umemiya

You've always thought that umemiya is very cute , but he is obviously also a scary person as a leader of a gang . But he is always very gentle and polite , growing vegetables, and he is also focused on protecting everyone in this town.

Gentle and strong , is the reason why you like him at the first place.

Everytime he squints at you and smile widely , his droopy eyes make him more like a well behaved puppy. You think to yourself.

On this day , you happened to go out to the mall with Umemiya, and he was happy to go shopping with you . You thought about the challenge , it's been going viral on internet lately. And you look at your boyfriend next to you , and want to try it on him . When Umemiya just stepped into the elevator, you suddenly pulled out your hand and smug at his reaction.

"Huh?"

Umemiya was puzzled by your sudden action , he looked at his palm and then you who were gradually distancing yourself from him . Looking at you with a smile on your face , umemiya knew that you're going to do something . And it just so happened the victim of this challenge was himself. You watch umemiya reach the top of the elevator little by little. And then turn around and take the downward elevator until he's back to you again.

Umemiya hold your hand firmly when he's return to you. And his warm palm will be tightly holding yours . You heard him say...

" y/n , I am back. You have to hold on tight this time"

#hayato suou #hayato suou x reader #suo x reader #suou hayato x reader #wind breaker #suo fluff #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker headcanons #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya #haruka sakura x reader #sakura #ren kaji #kaji ren

143 notes · View notes

f1bordeaux · 2 days

Text

The String That Binds Us. (Chapter 1) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood bestfriend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings : none Pairings : Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader Word Count : 1923 Poetry style | Story style A/n: here, my lovelies, is chapter one. Not proofread srry lolsies. Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

one; y/n.

There was something about it, something in the early morning rays reflecting off the cherry-red paint that just wiped away all exhaustion previously held in your bones. You were wide awake as you stared at the cars being rolled off the truck and into the garage. It was only five am but the sun had already crept over the horizon well enough to illuminate the sight in front of you. Golds and reds, blacks and yellows all mixed into a work of art nobody else could recreate. This is what you were here for. This is what you were living for.

“Gorgeous, innit’?”

You turned to your left, face to face with two others donning the same uniform as you. The woman who had spoken seemed a bit older than you, but now way had she yet reached her thirties. A man was accompanying her, although his eyes rested not on you, but on the tyres now being rolled out of the truck. He seemed close to her age, his deep-tanned skin a high contrast to hers.

You smiled at her before looking down at your lanyard. It was still so hard to process being here, on a Thursday morning in Bahrain, waiting for the weekend that was about to ensue. You were one of them now. You were an insider, a person that got to see everything on a deeper level. People dreamed of getting here, people worked their whole lives in hopes of getting here and yet here you were, 23 years old and face-to-face with Carlos Sainz’s car. It looked so much better in-person.

“It really is.” You sighed, looking back up. The truck was empty now, they were beginning to close the back door. “I still can't believe I’m here.”

The blonde lady leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your badge. “Y/n y/ln? You're new, huh?”

You turned to meet her eyes, a large smile on your face. “Yes, I just graduated University.”

“What an amazing first job to have then.” She smiled back. The man beside her now looked at you as he adjusted the ballcap on his head. “I'm Bridgette, but everyone in the garage just calls me Bridge.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You extended out a hand which she gratefully accepted.

“This is Lorenzo.” Bridgette nodded to the man who offered a toothless smile and his hand. “Enough standing around, we’ve got work to do. Walk with us.”

So you did. The garage wasn’t too far away, just around the corner, but Bridgette loved to talk; that you quickly found out. “Where are you from?” Was her first question.

��Bristol.”

“I hear it’s nice. They’ve got that beautiful river running through it, no?” She asked, looking straight ahead. You just nodded, unsure if she saw your response, but when she kept going you assumed she had. “I’m from Perth. Nothin’ quite like Australia, I must say.” “Isn’t Lando from Bristol?” Lorenzo added. His accent was thick as he spoke.

You nodded again, this time opting to expand on the question. “He is, yeah. We actually grew up together.”

Bridgette turned her head to look at you. “No way! Why didn’t your mate get you a job over at Mclaren?”

A blush coated your cheeks. You didn’t know where it came from, maybe embarrassment, maybe fear, hell, maybe even sadness. Lando wouldn’t have put in a good word for you, not today. Perhaps seven years ago when the two of you were teenagers and on a completely different page, but not now.

“We don't talk like we used to. He was gone a lot but he moved away for good when he was seventeen. He never really looked back, either.” You sighed. An odd sense of pity hung over the three of you. In an attempt to lighten the mood you clapped your hands together and smiled at the two engineers next to you. “But he got me into cars and engineering! So, I owe him a thanks for that.”

Bridgette nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line. “There ya’ go.”

The next few moments were rushed. The three of you entered the garage where people worked on putting everything into place. You were introduced to management and owners, mechanics and bosses. Tyres were being placed on racks, tarps were being placed over backup cars, tool boxes were being passed around. It was thrilling, even if you were just standing on the sidelines watching as it all happened. Soon, however, someone called your name. You were sure it was Bridgette or Lorenzo, but it was someone else. Alessandro, Charles' chief mechanic, was heading straight for you, clipboard in hand.

“Have you been assigned a team yet?”

“No, sir.”

He smiled. “Call me Alessandro. No need for formalities. But anyways,” He looked down at the clipboard then back up at you. “Our front jack guy broke his wrist and I need someone to replace him. Care to run some drills?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. “I would be honored.”

“Awesome.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Let's go get you a suit and helmet, then.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t get the spot.” Bridgette sipped her coffee. “You absolutely crushed it.”

You blushed, rolling your finger around the rim of your cup. The Ferrari motorhome was gorgeous with its meeting rooms and rooftop balcony, with its relaxation spots and cafe. It really put into perspective where you were and who you were working for.

“Thank you,” You said quietly.

The day had gone by rather quickly. The sun was already setting over the desert and exhaustion clung to your body just as tightly as the uniform you wore. You’d spent hours running drills, practicing the most simple yet vital job-jacking the car up. You did it over and over again, improving with every run. After that you were tasked with doing inventory. Sure, it was a small task, one that didn’t require you to get hands on with the car, but it was still important. You wandered the garage counting tyres, drills, wrenches, going through tool bags and drawers. It helped you get situated in the space, to learn the layout and whereabouts of everything. Once you had finished that, you were offered to help wash Charles’ back up car. You gladly obliged, happy to be finally touching the car at least. You washed the tyres, the halo, the rear wing and a bit of the body before standing back to revel in the beauty of the car. It seemed to shine, even in the dim garage lighting. You felt so fulfilled, so privileged, so at home.

“Alessandro likes to give everyone a shot, he doesn’t discriminate.” Bridgette continued. “Today might have been your lucky break.”

“I’d be happy even being a back-up jack, honestly. Just wearing the fire suit and helmet makes me feel all,” you paused looking for the right word to describe it. “Giddy.”

“Well,” Lorenzo began, setting his phone face down on the table. “He needs to pick tonight so we can have that person participate in tomorrow's practice. You should know if you got it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Guess I’ll be tossing and turning all night, then.” You joked.

A small laugh cluttered the table. It was getting late, the track becoming more and more empty with each passing moment. The motorhome was silent, save for the three of you lingering around. “We should go grab the last shuttle to the hotel,” Bridgette stood, taking one last swig from her cup before tossing it into a bin. “Are the two of you coming?”

Lorenzo stood up, as did you. “I left my bag in the lockers. I can wait for the next one if you both would like to go.”

“It’s ok,” he said. “We can wait for you at the front gate.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be quick.”

You jogged through the paddock, grateful that the heat had subsided. Lights poured out of each garage, illuminating pit lane in a way the sun hadn't. The sun, harsh and bright, brought a form of intimidation onto the pavement. The lights however, soft and orange, seemed to bring peace. It was a gentle reminder that at the end of the day, everything would be alright.

You dodged into the Ferrari garage, running to the back lockers to retrieve your backpack. Although your head was almost completely submerged in the metal box, you could hear faint-chatter? You leaned back, wondering if Bridgette and Lorenzo had come to find you. No, it didn’t sound like them. The voice sounded much more familiar. It was like listening to one of your favorite songs after a long while.

Lando paused at the entrance of the garage. His phone was pressed into his ear. He stared at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. Did he know it was you? Could he see you? Did he even remember what you looked like?

You swung your bag over your shoulders and closed the locker. As you approached, Lando lifted his brows, erasing the confused look on his face. He surely could see you now.

“Hey, I gotta call you back.” He sighed. “Yeah, everything is good. See you tomorrow.”

A few feet separated you and him. You debated on starting conversation, on asking how he’s been. But you decide just to nod and walk past him. That is your plan until he stops you.

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips together in a flat smile. “Hey, Lando.”

He looked you up and down. You were uncertain if he found your Ferrari uniform insulting or fitting. What if you were wearing papaya? What if you were sporting orange instead of red? Would he be looking at you in the same way?

“So you really did make it, huh?” Lando crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as you avoided eye contact.

“I suppose so.”

“Have they assigned you a driver?”

You looked up for the first time since your conversation began. A bit of pride swelled in your chest as you said, matter-of-factly, “Yeah, Charles Leclerc.”

He blinked hard, shocked that you landed not only a job with the most infamous F1 team, but on their star drivers car. Maybe you were better than you let on. Maybe it was more luck. But deep down Lando knew how good you were. He was able to experience it first hand as a kid.

“Wow. Most people remain without a designated driver for their first year. They kinda’ just float around doing all the dirty work. At least, that's how it is at Mclaren.”

“Right.” You gripped your backpack straps like a kid. “Good thing I'm not over there, then.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you fell quiet, only the sound of nearby passing cars and people walking by filled the air. To any bypasser this surely looked sketchy. Lando Norris, Mclarens golden boy, and a new engineer for an opposing team, just staring at one another. How odd.

You broke the silence first saying, “Well I’ve gotta’ go. I have some friends waiting for me to catch the shuttle.”

Lando just nodded, staring at the ground as you walked by. As you passed Carlos’ garage, he called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

You could barely hear it with the way he spoke so quietly. But you stopped, turning your head and offering a real, genuine smile. “Yeah,” You breathed out.

He smiled back. “Good luck.”

92 notes · View notes

damiansgoodgirll · 19 hours

Note

could you please maybe write an Damian Priest X Fem Reader Story where both became parents to an beautiful baby boy, and the first night at home with the baby reader witnessed that Damian is taking care of the Little One by holding him in his arms standing by the window and telling his son the story how reader and him met and that he was blown away from her the first time he saw her and reader comes to him and wrapped her arms around him and tells him that those feelings were mutual at that time and Damian thanks her for not only making him the happiest guy on earth but also an Dad.

this request was so cute 🤧 + i decided to make it what i always wanted part 3 because it fits perfectly with the storyline

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

this could be read as a stand alone but if you want to read the other two parts, here we go:

what i always wanted, part 2

‼️mention of pregnancy and child birth (i never had a baby and pregnancies scare me, don’t judge lol - so i don’t know how accurate this could be)

what i always wanted pt. 3

“i think my waters just broke” you said standing there in the middle of the kitchen, frozen on your spot.

“what?” rhea looked at your with terror in her eyes, especially when she saw the water down at your feet.

“my waters just broke rhea…” you said, trying not to panic. this wasn’t supposed to happen now. you were only at the eight month, you weren’t ready.

“what-what do we do?” she tried not to panic too.

this wasn’t how you imagined it. you imagined being already at the hospital, being taken care of by the doctor and nurses, and, most importantly, being there with damian and not rhea. she was your best friend but seeing the way she was panicking gave you more anxiety that what you already had.

damian was training and, even if he refused to let you, you had almost to kick him out of the house. he wanted to stay by your side in case “something happened” but, the baby was supposed to come in three weeks, not now, so you imagined that being with rhea wasn’t a big deal. he reluctantly accepted and left you under rhea’s supervision but he was checking on you every ten minutes, making sure you were okay.

“i don’t know rhea, maybe drive me to the hospital?” you didn’t mean to sound so rude but you couldn’t explain the pain you were experiencing so, in that moment, being kind and caring was the last of your worries.

“oh yeah yeah, let’s go, let me grab a towel for you..” she got up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to get you a couple of towels and then she helped you into her car.

she was probably panicking more than you did.

“should i call damian?” she asked, knowing the answer but, she wasn’t gonna lie, you were scaring her, and not because you were about to give birth but because you were mean.

“please do…” you whispered. you were focusing on your breath, in and out, despite the huge pain you were feeling and the fear of everything not going how it was supposed to be.

“he’s not answering…”

“try again! please rhea…i don’t know if i can’t do this without him…” maybe the hormones, maybe you getting more and more agitated, but you started to cry and rhea couldn’t do nothing to help. not even her comforting words - that usually worked - were working this time.

in the meantime she got you safe and sound at the hospital.

finally you were taken care of. brought to your room, changed into the hospital vest and now doctors and nurses where helping you getting ready to deliver your baby.

rhea was by your side for all the time damian was missing. when she called him for the tenth time he finally answered and he almost had a heart attack when she told him that you were in labor. he changed and with finn he drove - like crazy - towards the hospital.

he didn’t want to miss the birth of his baby but his first thought was you. how scared you must have been being there, laying in an hospital bed and not knowing what’s going on.

when he made it, he ran through the hospital corridors, looking for your room and when he finally saw you, his heart broke. it was clear to him that you were in extreme pain, rhea holding your hand was all the support she gave you as you didn’t want nobody to talk.

“hey love…” he slowly sat next to you, opposite to rhea.

“it’s not how it was supposed to go damian…” you softly cried.

“i know mi amor, i know…but we’re here together…i’ll be with you the whole time okay? rhea is here too and finn is waiting outside, he probably just called dominik so he will be here soon too. you have a big loving family here for you, you are not alone” his words seemed to calm you down a little.

in reality he was more afraid than you were. he knew becoming parents was going to be a big change and, no matter how excited he was, deep down he had a fear of failing.

“it’s not how i imagined it tho…i wanted it to be a perfect and this is a complete chaos” you said making him chuckle.

“well, our little baby wants to come sooner than we thought…are you excited love?”

“i’m terrified right now! plus what if my vagina is gonna break? what do i do?” he sensed you were terrified, and no matter what he said, he couldn’t calm you down.

“i promise you your vagina is not gonna break mi amor”

“how do you know?”

“hey hey love…let’s breathe together…in and out, follow me…” he showed you and you did like he said.

“i’m scared…plus it fucking hurts…”

“everything will be okay…i’ll be with you the whole time hermosa” he gently kissed your cheek.

he wished his arms was made out of titanium because the way you were squeezing his hand when you were giving birth, it was as painful as it was probably for you.

but no matter how broken his hand was - it wasn’t broken, he just liked to be a drama queen - he comforted you and praised you the whole time.

“one last big push y/n…you’re almost there” he softly whispered in your ear before the both of you heard a little cry.

“oh my…” you said, tears streaming down your face.

“congratulation mom and dad, it’s a baby boy” your doctor happily said as she quickly cleaned up your new born and gently laid him in your arms.

“hi baby…” you softly looked at your baby who was still crying but quickly calmed down when he realised where he was. your eyes met up with damian’s. he was crying too, probably more than you were as he was expecting the happiest moment of his life.

“he’s so…” he couldn’t describe it with simple words but somehow you understood.

“i know” you simply said.

a couple of minutes later you were finally getting cleaned up and while damian was giving your son his first bath with the help of a nurse, you decided to close your eyes for a few minutes, feeling relaxed and happy. when damian came back, he put his son to sleep in the little crib near your bed while he smiled at how peaceful you were while sleeping .

once you woke up, you found yourself in a room full of people and filled with happiness and joy. your best friends, damian’s family and your family too. every single person you loved was there to support and help you and you couldn’t be more grateful.

two days at the hospital and you were finally ready to come back home. you hated hospital food, hospital showers and hospital beds, they were the most uncomfortable places for sleeping. so you couldn’t deny how happy you were when you finally laid down on your bed.

the little nursery room you both decorated was perfect for your little boy.

damian has been by your side for everything, even the smallest things. he cooked for you and he helped you showered once you came back home. he knew how tired you were and he didn’t want to put you in any stress. he was there when you were breastfeeding your son, admiring the little guy in your arms.

he couldn’t keep his eyes off of his son and neither could you.

he was perfect.

“i’m so tired” you said yawning, once your son had fallen asleep.

“you should rest a little, i’ll wake you up when dinner is ready okay?” he smiled looking at you and you definitely agreed with him.

you slept for a couple of hours before waking up when you heard a little scream coming from the nursery. you immediately went on your feet and rushed to your son’s bedroom.

“it’s okay baby” you heard damian talking softly “it’s okay…you’re waking up mom with your little screams” he gently laughed, your heart melting at the sight of such sweet scene “you know, i messed up really badly with mommy, there’s a time where i almost lost her…we had this stupid fight - oh right - bad fight, no bad words in front of you little guy, and when she left i felt completely lost and alone…and if i could turn back time i would have never let her go..”

you tried to hold back tears hearing damian’s conversation with your son but you were still very emotional so you let a few tears fall.

“the craziest part is that your mom doesn’t even like wrestling…” he laughed again “but she gave up her career for me…she started working with me, following me everywhere i went and if it wasn’t for her best friend taking her to a wrestling show many years ago, i would have never met her…i know you’re too little to understand this but y/n is the best mom you could have ever ask for…she’s been waiting for you for a while and now that you’re here, we’re going to be the best family for you, i promise you little boy…” damian started to get emotional and before he could have the chance to cry, you stepped in.

“just for your information, i still don’t like wrestling” you said smiling.

“but you love me…” damian smirked.

“i do…”

“i’m so glad you didn’t give up on me love…i love you so much” he smiled at you while gently rocking your son.

“i love you more” you wrapped your arm around his chest and gently laid your head over his shoulder, admiring the little creature you just created.

73 notes · View notes

likedovesinthewindd · 6 hours

Text

rendezvous; part five of sore loser ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 2

summary: when patrick asks to see you when he's back in town, you (spitefully) agree | content/warning: not a lot of art in this one :/, suggestive content | tags: @midwestprincesss

In Stanford next week.

Can we meet?

You stared at the text messages, one hand hovering over the keypad in hesitance as the other continued brushing your teeth. You met your own gaze in the little mirror by your sink, deep in thought as you stared at your disheveled state. You freed your other hand, the toothbrush now dangling from the side of your mouth before typing out a reply.

I'd like that :) LMK when and where.

You sighed, turning your phone off and placing it on the sink's counter before continuing to brush your teeth.

Patrick had wasted no time messaging you since that night you accepted his request, and it hadn't taken much (any) convincing to get your number, the influx of messages quickly migrating to texts.

It had been a few weeks since you walked out on Art, and since then, you have gone back to ignoring and avoiding him at all costs. He didn't make it easy though, insisting on calling out your name whenever he caught a glimpse of you on campus and even going as far as once chasing you down until you had to hide away in the women's bathroom.

You had cooled down considerably since that afternoon. You'd go as far as to say that you weren't even really mad at him anymore, just not completely ready to face him yet.

So what if you and Patrick wouldn't be compatible? You'd prefer to figure that out on your own. It wouldn't hurt to try, either– it wasn't like you were looking for your soul mate.

Which was why the two of you were now sitting in a warmly lit diner just outside of town, way too close to each other in the corner booth for it to be just friendly as he watched you stir at the cup of tea infront of you.

"Does Art know you're in town?" you asked, clinking the spoon against the edge of the porcelain cup a few times. "Art's the reason I'm in town," he smiled, laughing at your faux shock. You placed your hand on your heart dramatically with an intake of breath.

"And I here I thought you came just for me," you laughed. "Well, you definitely sweetened the deal," he added, and you rolled your eyes, your wide smile deceiving you.

He watched the way your lips stretched in a grin behind your raised cup before you brought it to your mouth, your glossed lips leaving a sticky shiny residue behind. He watched as your perfectly manicured hands held the cup with caution, pretty French tips blending beautifully into the milky porcelain in your hand.

He watched as those same hands placed the cup down gently, one hand rising to your face as you wiped off some of the lipgloss that had smeared over your bottom lip. He followed that hand's movement until his eyes met yours, pretty smile still stuck on your face as you raised your eyebrows wordlessly.

"But, uh," he cleared his throat (and mind) before speaking up again. "I'm actually playing. That's why I'm in town." Your eyebrows raised further in interest at his words, a surprised hum leaving your mouth. "I've never watched you play," you said more to yourself. "No, please don't come," he said, "you'll throw me off my game. I won't be able to focus."

You laughed at that. "Are you calling me bad luck?" you asked with a smile. "I'm calling you distracting," he corrected you. You hummed, your eyes trailing down to your hands and catching sight of the time on your wristwatch.

"It's getting late," you stated with a sigh, looking around to find the diner almost empty. He looked down at his own watch, pursing his lips with a dissatisfied hum of agreement. "Yes, it is," he sighed before looking at you. "I don't want the night to end yet," he added.

"You never do," you laughed as you played with one of the rings on your fingers. "When are you playing?" you asked after a short pause. "Saturday," he answered.

"Are you gonna come watch?" he added shortly after. You scoffed. "Thought you didn't want me there?" you said, crossing your arms. "I changed my mind."

✰ ⊹ ˚.

You couldn't remember how things had led to Patrick being here, standing behind you as his mouth left soft kisses on your neck, as you struggled to get your door open. You thanked your lucky stars that your roommate was visiting her parents, making a mental note to buy her something extra special for her birthday this year.

The both of you sigh in relief when the door finally opens and you drag him inside by his hand, away from any possible prying eyes.

You were barely behind closed doors before his mouth was on yours again, hands softly rubbing your sides before gripping your hips as your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand slipping to the back of his head. The kiss was messy, his lips only leaving yours in favor of moving on to your neck, teeth nipping at the skin there before relieving the sting with his tongue.

Patrick's body ran like a furnace, and it felt like every part of you was being lit on fire by his touch. His hands moved down to grip two handfuls of your ass, crinkling the fabric of your dress and groaning against your neck when your one hand at his nape gripped the hair there in response.

"You smell so good," Patrick said, nose rubbing up against your neck like a cat before his mouth found the sweet spot behind your ear. You shuddered in his grasp, a shaky sigh leaving your lips.

Before you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling, though, you pulled away from Patrick completely, grinning at the pained look on his face. You wordlessly made your way to your bed, moving up to the headboard (and giving Patrick a pretty view of your butt, the dress flowing seamlessly with each movement) before you turned around, your back against the wood and a megawatt smile on your face.

Patrick reacted fast, quickly moving up the bed until he was basically on top of you, the old bedsprings protesting against his weight. You weren't complaining, though, pulling him closer once more, needing to feel his weight on top of you. The kiss was searing hot, laced with passion, and had you melting into the mattress, but before you could slip into that blissful headspace, there was an urgent knock on your door.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

#challengers #challengers x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #likedovesinthewindd

77 notes · View notes

harunayuuka2060 · 2 days

Text

Twst Unveil Event: The goddess of love's blessing Part 2

Yuurin: *in this dress and hairstyle*

The Savanaclaw students: ...

Leona, Ruggie, and Jack: ...

Savanaclaw student A: L-Little sis? You're gorgeous and all, but are you going to class looking like the goddess you are?

Yuurin: To be honest, senpai, I don't want to.

Savanaclaw student B: Then why not change to something else? We've got cooler outfit for ya—

Yuurin: The nymphs dressed me.

The Savanaclaw students: ...

Savanaclaw student C: Shit. We can't do anything about that.

Leona: ...

Leona: Looks like we have no choice.

Leona: Ruggie, Jack, and I will accompany you.

Ruggie: Nope. Jack and I will accompany Yuurin.

Ruggie: You stay here.

Leona: Why?

Ruggie: You're going to beat up every student who looks at her.

Leona: Oh yeah? And what's the problem with that?

Yuurin: Leona-senpai, I'll be fine. After all, not everyone knows I'm actually a girl.

Leona: ...

Leona: Yuurin, people are already hitting on you even though they believe you're a boy.

The Savanaclaw students: *nods in agreement*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I've got the strength of Hercules.

The Savanaclaw students: ...

Leona: ...

Leona: Promise me that you'll punch them hard in the face if anyone tries to be funny.

Yuurin: Yes, Leona-senpai.

Riddle: Y-Yuurin?

Yuurin: Good morning, Riddle-senpai.

Riddle: ...

Riddle: *clears throat* What are you doing here?

Yuurin: The headmaster hasn't allowed me to attend any class today.

Riddle: Is it because you're not wearing a uniform?

Yuurin: Yes.

Riddle: Hm. Yuurin, you're not the type to violate dress code. So I assume there must be a reason why you're wearing a dress today.

Yuurin: *nods*

Riddle: I see. Anyway, I'm glad you decided to visit Heartslabyul.

Yuurin: It's one of places I know where no one will bother me.

Riddle: Then... How come you didn't return to Savanaclaw?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: My godmothers are preventing me from going back to my dorm.

Riddle: Godmothers?

Yuurin: Yes. They are nymphs.

Yuurin: They're urging me to go to other places instead.

Riddle: ...

Azul: So Yuurin can't go back to Savanaclaw dorm because of his current state?

Leona: Yes. And not only that, he can't be accompanied by anyone from Savanaclaw. That includes me.

Vil: Oh dear. You must be really annoyed by that, Leona.

Leona: How would you feel if Epel is not in your sight, huh?!

Vil: ...

Idia: Okay, mom, dad. Let's not fight here.

Leona and Vil: Shut up!

Idia: ...

Azul: Anyway, Leona, are you here to ask us to accept Yuurin into our dorms just in case?

Leona: Yes. Although Yuurin has his own money, I'll be the one paying for his accomodations.

Vil: I don't need your money. Yuurin can stay in Pomefiore anytime.

Idia: Same thing in Ignihyde.

Azul: I'm running a business so I'll be accepting a payment. Thank you.

Riddle: Where are you planning to go now?

Yuurin: To Pomefiore. Vil-senpai has a room for me there.

Riddle: *sad frowns* I'm sorry. I wish I could offer you a room, but Heartslabyul already has too many students.

Yuurin: Don't worry about it, senpai. I have enjoyed chatting with you.

Riddle: *chuckles* Please come again whenever you have a free time.

'He's cute.'

'But he's short. Cross him out.'

Yuurin and Riddle: !!!

Riddle: Wh-What was that?!

#twisted wonderland #twst yuurin #twst riddle #twst leona #twst ruggie #twst jack #twst savanaclaw #twst azul #twst vil #twst idia #google image #twst unveil: the goddess of love's blessing

434 notes · View notes

paranoiastudio · 14 hours

Text

pairing: Art Donaldson х f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, cheat?

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

- Would you fuck me, Art? - You ask point-blank, causing Art to choke on his drink. - If it weren't for Patrick, would you have fucked me?

This conversation should not have happened. You didn’t want to go to this party, but you forced yourself to come. You didn’t want to discuss your relationship with anyone, but Art knew about your last fight with Patrick and approached you himself.

And now, after three bottles of beer and a sincere conversation, you find yourself asking a similar question and understand that stopping now is not an option.

You looked at Art so intently, so alluringly, that he simply could not lie to you. And he decided not to lie, finally admitting how much he was attracted to his friend’s girl.

- I would fuck you right now if you asked. - Art whispers this on your lips.

The air around you becomes heavier every second, you feel the familiar heat in your lower abdomen and lick your lips, only attracting the attention of the man’s gaze to you.

- Would you fuck me?

- Yes. - You answer, perhaps, too quickly.

- If it weren't for Patrick, that's right?

- No. I... I would fuck you now, right here... If you asked me.

Your words seem to have broken Art Donaldson. He looks at you silently, thinking about what he heard. He should leave right now: you're his friend's girlfriend, you're a little drunk and upset, you can make mistakes.

But you still look at him, just five minutes ago you said that you were tired of Patrick and wanted to change something. Does this mean you're leaving Patrick?

- Ask me, Art... - Everything except you loses the sound. How can he refuse you? Art has wanted you, you was so close and yet so far away.

Art is a strong man, with a well-trained will, but even he is now ready to break. All he wants now is to be close to you and he doesn't care about the consequences.

- Let's go. - You accept his hand without objection and follow the guy, noting how soft his skin is. Patrick's hands were heavy and hard, Art's were not like that. Having pushed away this comparison, you turn to the crowd, no one seems to care that you are going up to the second floor.

- Whose room is this? - You lean your back on the door, Art leans towards you, otherwise your whisper would not be able to be heard.

- Guest room. Did you lock it?

You pull the handle twice, wanting to check for sure. After making sure that you won’t be disturbed, I quickly take off my shoes, embarrassed to wear shoes in someone else’s house, and sit down next to Art.

- Are you sure? - Art wanted to know for sure, he had to make sure that you really wanted this.

- More than. And you?

- And I. Can I kiss you? - You push back a strand of hair from your forehead and nod, submitting to the tennis player’s touch. Art kisses your neck, his open mouth exploring your hot skin and his hand squeezing your bare knee, not going any further.

- Don't be afraid, I don't bite painfully. - You giggle, seeing only tenderness and affection in Art’s eyes, not a hint of mockery or playfulness, as was often the case with Patrick.

- I’ll be ready to endure even if you take a bite out of me. - Art strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You reach for the next kiss and lightly bite the man’s lip, trying to force him to open his mouth. Art's tongue is very warm and tastes like a mixture of cider and something bitter. He glides weightlessly, pulling you into a long and affectionate kiss and you move easily, feeling his tenderness embrace you.

- I’ve always wanted you... - Art rests his forehead on your shoulder and runs his nose along your skin. - Patrick just... Damn.

- Hey... - You lift Art’s face by the chin. - He's not here, you know? Patrick is an asshole and we both know it. Looks like I picked the wrong guy...

You push Art onto the bed and sit on top of him. The mention of your arrogant and stubborn boyfriend (ex-boyfriend) made you angry and added courage.

- We don't talk about Patrick anymore, okay? - Art nods, watching you in fascination. - Fine. Now touch me.

You begin to pull off Art’s shirt, your hips rise and the man immediately puts his hands on your legs, stroking the skin and rising higher and higher.

- I don’t think we’ll need that. - You unbutton the tennis player’s light trousers and pull them down along with your underwear just enough to free half-erect cock.

- I... Please. - Art whines underneath you, which can’t help but make you grin, you haven’t even touched him yet. - Please, I want it so much...

You take the penis in your hand and make a few slow movements. The soft skin pleasantly rubs against your hand, with your other hand you would grab Art’s balls, he almost jumps on the bed and shamelessly moves his hips towards you.

- My poor baby... - You coo over the already hard member and lubricate the droplets from the red tip with excitement. - No one has touched you for a long time, right?

Art looks at you pleadingly, he is ready to ask, beg you, but you yourself are already on the verge and won’t be able to tease him for long. Especially when Art gets his finger under the hem of your underwear...

- Oh shit! - You stop all actions, and, lifting up your dress, you move your underwear and push yourself onto Ard Donaldson’s dick.

- God! - He opens his eyes wide and squeezes your hips so hard that you are sure that the dress was torn.

- You're so big... - You didn't lie, Art's dick isn't as long as Patrick's, but his girth stretches you out much better. - So good, Art.

A man bites his lip when he hears his name from your lips, it is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. You both breathe heavily, getting used to the feeling of complete intimacy, you suddenly realize that you are not using a condom (if you believe Patrick’s stories, Art has never been with anyone at all).

You wiggle your hips, smiling predatorily at another hoarse moan, you always liked men who were not shy about the fact that they were receiving pleasure, and Art, with his heightened sensitivity, was just like that.

You lower your hot palms onto his chest, play with the short blond hairs and lean on him, starting to lift your hips.

Art huffs and whines beneath you, his strong hands gripping the blanket until his skin turns white. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, trying not to close his eyes from the pleasure that you and your beautiful velvet pussy give him, which hugs him so tightly that you want to howl.

- I feel you so deeply... - You push back the unruly hair from your face and smile, it was always nice to be filled, especially with Art. With him you feel a certain exclusivity; he seemed to be in inhuman bliss.

- Please, I... Damn! - Art sharply raises his hips and you hear a loud slap with which your bodies met.

- Touch me. - Art immediately slides his hand between your bodies and rubs your clitoris with his thumb. You spread your legs wider so he can see exactly how he slides in and out of you. - It’s so nice, Art.

His name sounds like a song from your lips and Art moves his hands to your waist, helping you move faster. He feels his own dick twitching and tries not to cum at the moment when you squeeze him especially tightly.

- I'm going to cum. - Your voice trembles and you moan, throwing your head back. - Do not stop...

Art continues to move inside you, cumming profusely and swallowing all his sounds, wanting to listen to your delicious sighs longer. You feel a mixture of your secretions flowing out of you, you feel how Art becomes softer inside you. You feel like you did everything right.

- I think we need to call Patrick. - You're breaking the "We don't talk about Patrick anymore" rule. - I'll take my things.

- I will help you. - Art gently traces circles on the skin of your thighs, the fact that you were still connected did not bother either of you. - I have plenty of space at home.

#challenges #art donaldson #mike faist #challenges imagine #challengers smut #art donaldson x fem!reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #imagine #smut

94 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 days

Text

lil joel x reader drabble

sexual tension and some nudity. we all know what's coming next.

Okay but what if you don't really know Jackson!Joel, you just nod at him whenever you pass him by in the street (because that's what you do in Jackson), and you know nothing about him except what everybody knows: he walked all the way there with the girl, he's lethal, he's Tommy's brother, he's fucking dangerous, but when he looks at Ellie he smiles, and when she reads him puns from that book of hers he laughs, and it's the sound of someone who has longed to laugh for many, many years.

So one day he delivers something to your door. I don't really know what, maybe soup or something, and when you accept it, your fingers touch, and you lose your grip for a moment, and you spill it all over his plaid and jeans.

"Shit, oh shit, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking clumsy!"

"Don't worry about it, no harm done."

"Dammit, it's all over your clothes!"

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry!"

And somehow he ended up inside your house, carrying the pot or whatever to the kitchen, where he puts it down, before assessing the damage. He takes off the plaid, and the t-shirt underneath is fine.

"Gimme that, I'll clean it for you."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to," you stress. "It was my fault. Come on, jeans too."

He has already handed you the plaid, but now he's shaking his head.

"Joel, I insist. Go home, get changed, bring me back the jeans."

"I only have this one pair."

"All the more reason for me to clean them!" you point out as you turn your back and go to the sink, turning on the water and putting down the plaid. "Come on now, you think I haven't seen a guy in his undies before?"

You try to make your voice light, but you know you failed. It has been a long time since you last saw a man in his undies, and a man like Joel Miller...

You hear him taking off his boots, then the rustle of his jeans, finally the belt buckle hitting the floor with a low thunk. When you turn around to accept the pants, you stop still.

Except for the t-shirt and socks, he's naked. The hem of the shirt just about covers the little round of his belly, and you can very plainly see the dark hair running down between his legs, where his cock and balls hang snugly against the mass of hair.

You gulp, and realize that you have stared at his crotch for longer than is considered polite. When you meet his gaze, you see that he is teasing you. He's not even holding the jeans in front of his crotch, oh no, his hand is resting comfortably at his side.

"You do realize that I can't go out like this?" he asks you in a low voice that makes the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up. You nod, stupefied.

"And that I'll have to wait here until my pants are dry?"

You nod again. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and hands you the jeans. You accept them, hand trembling slightly, and turn around quickly to shove the jeans into the sink, along with the plaid. You look for the soap, the drain stopper, and splash water on the floor.

"You need any help?"

Joel is suddenly right behind you, startling you as one of his hands come to rest on your waist.

"I'm good," you manage.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just let these soak..."

You turn off the water, and take a deep breath. Okay, here goes.

Slowly, you turn around, your hip grazing his cock that doesn't seem to limp anymore. Joel takes a step closer, trapping you between himself and the sink.

"They gotta soak for a while," you tell him quietly, before clearing your throat. "For quite a while, in fact."

He smirks, and leans in to press his lips against yours.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my fic

57 notes · View notes

mariequitecontrarie · 17 hours

Text

Penelope asking Colin to kiss her was such a power move. I remain in awe.

This is a young woman who has endured mocking in the shadowed corner of a ballroom; who never defends herself to her unkind family; who has taking up writing a gossip column in the voice of an elderly widow/spinster to have a voice in a society that despises her for being different. A young woman who has just once more become the center of unsavory gossip for daring to allow her best friend (it was HIS idea, people!) to help her find a husband.

Penelope thinks her life, the dream of love and marriage that she has held for so long, is over.

And yet at this moment in the garden with a full moon high in the black sky, when Colin has come to see her under cover of darkness and bribed Rae for time alone with her, Penelope holds all the power. For the first time in her life she ASKS the person she trusts most in the world for what she wants; for one experience, one kiss that must last a lifetime because she truly believes it is the first and last time.

Penelope does not beg Colin, she asks. And you can see his indecision in that moment because he WANTS to kiss her, and the arguments he comes back with “you are not going to die tomorrow” and “you would already be dead,” are not enough to keep him from crossing the space between them and kissing her. They could have left it with that first, small, chaste kiss, but Colin doesn’t want that—he presses forward, takes her mouth again, again. Penelope is the inexperienced one, and she does nothing here but follow Colin’s lead. Their foreheads rest together, their breath mingled and heavy between them. She thanks him and pulls away, breaking the spell.

Colin does not want to be thanked for his kiss, and this is the moment when all the power shifts into Penelope’s hands. Colin is wrecked, he is completely undone by the moment, and it doesn’t end there. His nights are either sleepless or filled with dreams of Pen, and he begins to follow her around like a little lost puppy. It’s a complete role reversal of what we see from Pen in S1 and S2 when Colin held all the power and she hung on his every word. But Penelope means what she said; she said the kiss would change nothing, mean nothing, and for her, it doesn’t. It’s status quo because she is accustomed to this unrequited love. She soldiers on. And she continues in her quest for a husband completely free of expectations from Colin, having absolutely no idea of his suffering.

Friends, I cheered in this moment. I celebrate this moment for wallflowers everywhere. If Penelope’s request of a kiss is not the ultimate display of power—asking for what she wants and accepting it like she deserves it—I don’t know what is.

youtube

#penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #Polin #bridgerton spoilers #polin meta #polin bridgerton #Youtube #for the wallflowers

52 notes · View notes

half-oz-eddie · 2 days

Text

One More Night Before I Turn Myself In

18+, Graphic Depictions of violence, mentions of abuse, fetishizing

Steve Harrington has had it up to his ears with Hawkins. He lost Nancy, his parents divorced and all anyone ever cared about was dumping their kids on Steve, with the big house and all the free time—no, fuck that. He needed to be somebody that could enjoy life somehow.

In the middle of the night, he got in his car with every intention of quietly disappearing from Hawkins for good. Not like anyone would miss him anyway—

He screamed when a dark figure slammed down on the hood of his car. He trembled as it made its way to the passenger’s side.

Oh. He sighed in relief. It’s just Hargrove.

Hargrove?!

Steve rolled down the window. “Whaddya want, Hargrove? I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“Not here to fight, Harrington. Where ya headed?” He asked, leaning into the open window.

“Dunno. But I’m getting outta here.”

Billy pulled the door handle. “Open up.”

“Why?”

“C’mon just—“ he struggled with the door handle until Steve unlocked it and allowed him in. “Take me wherever you’re going.”

“What? No—“

“C’mon! Please? I need to get outta here for awhile.”

Since when was Billy the type of guy to say please?

“Ugh, fine.” He groaned. “But I don’t wanna hear any complaints.”

“I’m not gonna say shit.”

Steve took off in the silent night, driving past the Now Leaving Hawkins sign before Billy glanced over at him in the dim moonlight.

“No radio?”

“I thought you weren’t gonna say anything.” Steve snapped.

“Touchy.” Billy tusked. “Just saying. It’s too damn quiet. It’s creepy.”

“Fine.”

Steve turned on the radio, just as a breaking news story was broadcasting.

“—was shot and killed in his home—“

Billy reached over and changed the station, letting Hungry Like The Wolf play.

“You like this song, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…one of my favorites.”

“Cool.” Billy muttered.

They drove in silence for another 10 miles before Billy asked Steve to pull over so he could “take a piss in the woods.”

“Can’t you wait til we reach a gas station?”

“I can’t hold it.” Billy insisted.

“Fine. Go.” Steve pulled over and Billy jumped out.

He went behind the closest tree and Steve turned up the radio slightly, none the wiser to the sounds of Billy discarding something in the woods.

He returned to Steve’s car and the drive continued on.

Eventually Billy had fallen asleep, slowly waking up before sunrise.

“Where are we?” He asked in a groggy voice.

“Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.”

Billy stretched and sat up. “Why here?”

“It’s far from home and I saw an ad for a job here. I’m checking into a motel. What do you plan on doing?”

Billy shrugged. “Whatever you’re doing.”

“Hey, I said I’d drive you. I’m not carrying you along and taking care of you—“

“I didn’t ask you to take care of me. I can take care of myself. I have money for my own fuckin’ room.” Billy said matter-of-factly.

“Whatever, fine.”

They walked into the motel together and Steve requested two separate rooms.

“It’s cheaper if you double up.” The desk agent suggested.

They looked at each other then shrugged, agreeing to split the fees for a double room.

They each received keys to room 206 and stepped inside. Neither of them had any luggage on them so there was no need to settle in.

Billy claimed the bed closest to the bathroom, tossing his jacket on the chair and lying down on the bed. He turned on the TV and found an old movie to watch.

“It might be cheaper if we split for breakfast too.” Steve presented the idea.

Billy passed Steve a $5. “Get me a six pack.”

“You’ve gotta eat—“

“No. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be out here, or what I’m gonna do next, so I gotta save my money.”

Steve sighed, leaving the motel room without another word.

Billy fell asleep once more, springing up when Steve returned.

“I got your six pack, but I also got you some food.” Steve passed Billy a sandwich.

“…Thanks.” He reluctantly accepted.

They ate in awkward silence. They didn’t exactly like each other, or know what to talk to each other about. Deep down, they were both scared because of how foolish and impulsive they were being, but they didn’t want to discuss it at the moment.

“I’m gonna go and, uh…try to find a job. Want me to drive you anywhere?”

“No, I’ll just hang out here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Once Steve was gone, Billy decided to take a shower and go for a walk to clear his head.

But his head would never be clear after what happened. It still felt like a hazy nightmare. A nightmare that would never end.

He was so in his head, he didn’t realize that he’d been walking around aimlessly for hours.

When he returned to the motel, Steve was already there, this time, with lunch.

“Stopped at a KFC. Want some chicken?”

“Just a little.”

Steve passed Billy some chicken and a biscuit. They enjoyed it with some beers.

“So, uh…where’d you go?” Steve asked. “Sightseeing?”

“Something like that.” Billy answered vaguely.

“I um…I got a job. It’s at a uh…bowling alley nearby.”

“Congratulations, Harrington.”

“Thanks…”

The awkward silence returned. Steve felt like he had to tread carefully with Billy. He still didn’t understand why they were playing survivor in a motel room, or why they both decided to run away the same night—or why he agreed they’d do it together. Was Steve this desperate to not be alone?

Maybe so.

“Hey, do you like—wanna go to a club tonight or something? Get drunk, meet some hot girls, I dunno.” Steve laughed.

Billy glared at him before his expression softened with a snicker. “Whatever, sure.”

“Yeah?”

Billy shrugged. “You’re cooler than I thought, Harrington.”

“Sucks we got off on the wrong foot, right? But it’s not too late to start over.”

Unbeknownst to Steve, it was far too late for that. But just for tonight, Billy wanted to enjoy it.

Steve took Billy to a thrift store and they bought something affordable to wear for their night out, then found a nightclub.

They opened a tab, got some drinks in their systems and mingled with some girls, but oddly enough, felt more comfortable clinging to each other instead.

“You two look kinda cute together.” One of the women they met mentioned.

Steve emphatically shook his head and Billy waved it off. “O-oh we’re not—“

“We’ll pay you a hundred bucks if you let us watch you dance together.” The second woman proposed.

Was this like…some sort of fetish to them? Do they get off on seeing guys dance together?

“I mean, for a hundred bucks…”

Steve snapped his head in Billy’s direction. “What the hell? You serious?”

“What’s the problem? It’s just a dance. You scared?”

“I—no—whatever, c’mon.” He acquiesced, taking another shot before allowing Billy to drag him onto the dance floor.

They glanced over at the women who watched them, expecting a good show.

Billy pulled Steve close by his belt loops. “Just close your eyes and pretend I’m somebody else.”

“I don’t mind dancing with you.” Steve admitted. “It’s not like you’re—ugly—or something.”

Billy smirked and leaned into Steve’s ear. “Hey, Harrington…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you fuckin’ flirting with me?”

Steve pulled back to get a read on Billy’s expression, relieved to see a smile on his face. Maybe he’s just joking.

Steve began to shake his head, before smiling and shrugging.

Maybe Steve’s just joking too, Billy considered.

They let themselves relax and enjoy each other’s company, invading each other’s personal space, swaying and gyrating to the music, half hard cocks obviously felt against each other’s.

There was electricity coursing through them, and they found themselves liking this far too much. It had to be the alcohol, they both believed.

Billy leaned into Steve’s ear again as Steve’s hand made its way onto Billy’s ass.

“I’m horny.” Billy confessed.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Steve asked.

“Do you wanna do something about it?”

“Kinda, yeah. Is that weird?”

“No. You wanna go back to the motel?”

Steve’s cock was throbbing at this point. Of course he wanted to go back to the fucking motel.

Billy pulled Steve in the direction of the women, hand out for the payment.

“We’ll double it if you kiss.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” Billy grabbed Steve, leading him in a sensual tongue kiss. Steve couldn’t resist the urge to grab Billy’s cock while Billy grabbed the back of his neck.

Fuck. He didn’t know what was in the air, or those drinks but Jesus Christ did he want to bring Billy back to the motel and fuck his brains out.

The women paid them their $200 and they took a taxi back to the motel.

They didn’t think, they didn’t discuss, they didn’t reconsider. Clothes were simply flying off at the door before they landed on Steve’s bed, Billy’s hand wrapped around both of their cocks as they kissed.

The night felt like a fever dream but the feeling of their cocks touching and the sensation of their tongues darting against each other’s reminded them both that this was real—for whatever reason it was happening. It was fucking happening.

“Have you ever done this before?” Billy asked, lips still pressed to Steve’s.

“Had sex? Mhm. Of course.”

“With a guy, Harrington.”

“No, but a hole’s a hole, right?”

Billy tusked. “You make me sound like a cheap whore.”

“Not cheap.” Steve corrected. “You’re definitely worth $200.”

They laughed against each other’s lips before their kissing resumed.

Billy continued to jerk their cocks until they were painfully hard. He loosened his fist and spat into his hand, rubbing it all over Steve’s cock.

“Fuck me.” He exhaled. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Steve positioned himself between Billy’s legs and slowly slid his cock inside.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” Steve moaned, thrusting in and out and in and out. Faster, harder, rougher.

Billy had done this before, and didn’t mind that Steve was being so rough, but shit…his cock was massive, and he could feel every inch as he thrusted.

Steve didn’t understand anything except the feeling of his cock drooling inside a man’s tight asshole. And the man happened to be Billy Hargrove, who was as pretty as ever writhing beneath him.

He slowed down his thrusts, savoring their kisses, relishing in how incredible sex felt.

“I’m gonna cum.” Billy moaned out.

“Me too, holy shit. You feel so good.”

“Cum in me, if you like it that much.”

Billy’s invitation was just enough to send a rippling feeling down Steve’s spine as he came inside Billy, emptying himself inside his hole.

Billy soon followed, spilling out all over himself.

They stared into each other’s eyes, still in disbelief that they acted on their sudden attraction to one another.

—

They got cleaned up and slightly sobered up, then sat at the table, eating some chips.

“So…uh…I wasn’t sure—“

“Wanna hear something crazy, Billy?”

“I guess.”

“I think…” Steve chuckled. “Maybe this was meant to be. It just—all of it felt so right, didn’t it? I’m not saying we have to jump right into anything, but—“

“I can’t, Steve.” Billy deflated. “I can’t…we can’t.”

“O-oh I—“ He nervously laughed. “I wasn’t trying to be weird but—“

“It’s not that. Tonight was…great, but…I can’t because…I need to…turn myself in.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Turn yourself in…for what?” He warily asked.

“I got so fucking sick of…him…beating me and treating me like shit so…I went in his room…I got his gun, and while he sat at table reading the paper and waiting for dinner, I raised his gun to his face, and...” Billy pointed a finger gun at Steve “blam.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Y-you…killed your father?!”

“And tossed the gun in the woods when we made that pit stop.”

Billy didn’t seem remorseful at all, but if he was indeed a victim, well, then Steve was willing to defend him.

“Hey, you’re a victim in this.” Steve comforted, holding Billy’s hand across the table. “I’m sure they’ll understand—“

“I shot him right in front of Susan.” Billy replied emotionlessly. “She would never speak up for me.”

“What about Max?”

“She’s just a stupid kid. It doesn’t matter what she says.”

“I don’t want—I don’t want you to go and spend the rest of your life in prison over someone who abused you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t be on the run for the rest of my life.” He frowned.

“Let’s go to sleep and sort it out together tomorrow, yeah?”

Billy noticed how desperate Steve was for him to stay. Why, though? It didn’t make sense. It’s not like they were in love or anything. Sure, he liked the guy and felt this insane connection to him. And maybe Steve felt like Billy was the only familiar piece of Hawkins he had with him.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

Billy couldn’t stay.

But for the night, he humored Steve. They talked, they cuddled in bed, and Billy let Steve fuck him one last time.

But this time, he was gentler, slower, and it felt like, maybe, Steve knew he’d leave in the morning, whether he wanted him to or not.

Which was true.

When Steve woke up the next morning, Billy was long gone. All he left behind was his watch and a note.

“Put some money on my books, pretty boy.”

#this has been in my drafts for like #a year idk #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ivy.doc #caliscoops.doc

45 notes · View notes