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rxgirlie · 1 day

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The Verdict- Chapter Eight

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of suicide, basically summarizing the trial from the movie, allusions to abortion, foul language, sexual content.

A/N: y’all wanted the drama, you’re getting the drama. this chapter was weird for me to write, ngl. thanks to @melancholicmelanin for beta’ing for me last minute. as always, I love your comments and all the anons- they seriously make this worth it. I didn’t intend on taking this fic in this direction at all, but here we go. (And, as always, thanks to @luxlisbons for being on the receiving end of my neuroses)

In the quiet of Vincent’s room, Leah remained in bed for an entire day, shifting only when discomfort set in or when Vincent appeared at the doorway to check on her. At one point, she stirred as the mattress dipped, catching a glimpse of Vincent holding a plate of orange slices and a cup of water. A pang of guilt washed over her, realizing the burden her melancholy was placing on him, invading his space and life. She wondered if he was growing tired of her current state.

"Eat something," Vincent urged, nudging the plate towards her. Reluctantly, she sat up and popped an orange slice into her mouth.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, displaying numerous missed calls from her father and her therapist, but he decided against mentioning it.

"What happened in New York?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing important," she replied, swallowing the orange and taking a sip of water. "I think my friend's kid got me sick."

"Right," he nodded, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes despite his understanding nod.

He observed in silence as she finished the last orange slice and drained the remaining water.

"We go to trial on Monday," he informed her, to which she nodded.

"I'll be better by then," Leah assured him. "I promise."

Throughout the rest of the week, Leah avoided Vincent, mastering the art of vomiting quietly or simply moving food around on her plate to create the illusion that she had eaten. Frequently dozing off on the couch, she felt anxious around him, harboring a fear that he might possess the same keen perception or foresight that his eccentric mother had displayed. The fear lingered in Leah's mind that Vincent could touch her and instantly know the truth, as if he possessed some uncanny ability to see through her facade with a mere contact.

"You're cold," he observed as he entered the living room where she was engrossed in reading Sandra's case files.

"No, it's actually quite warm in here," she replied as he shook his head.

"No, you're cold, distant," he insisted.

"I've been sick, and the exhausting flight and difficult mediation have left me drained," Leah explained, hoping to deflect his suspicions.

Unconvinced, Vincent pressed on, "Why haven't you been sleeping in bed with me?"

Rather than making up an excuse, She sighed and confronted the underlying issue, "What are we, Vincent? Are we friends, a fling? Where is this relationship headed?"

Vincent looked puzzled, "Where is all this coming from?"

"You once said we have all the time in the world, but do we really?" She questioned.

"That was when you told me I made you whole," He countered.

"Context matters," She pointed out.

"What's the context of this argument, then?" He challenged.

Leah, stubborn as the day is long, shook her head.

“What happened in New York that changed you?” He asked softly.

"How long have we known each other, Vincent?" She asked, already aware of the answer.

"I think just over a month," He replied honestly, “Maybe closer to two?”

"Then how can you say I've changed when you barely know me?" She snapped, looking at him intently, her entire body engaged for a fight she hadn't planned on having.

"How do you know this isn't the real me?" She added, sounding frustrated. "You can't presume to understand who I am."

"All I see is your missed calls, lack of appetite…you won’t let me touch you.” He admitted nervously.

"Do you just want to fuck me, Vincent?" She stood up, hands on her hips, challenging him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," He replied, standing his ground.

"Let me work in peace and stop analyzing me," She said firmly, returning to her seat on the couch.

Vincent, feeling sheepish, sat on the chaise opposite her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between them.

______________________________________

"I’m pregnant," Leah spoke quietly into the phone as she poured a cup of tea.

Kate emitted a sound that was a mix of a scream and a gasp on the other end of the call. "I fucking knew it," she said.

"Yeah, well, I don’t know what to do," Leah admitted as she sat at the table with her teacup.

"His mom knows because apparently she’s fucking psychic," Leah continued. "I walked in, and she took one look at me, and she fucking knew."

Kate sighed heavily on the other end. "Does he know?"

"No," Leah said. "I can’t tell him right before the trial and mess with his headspace. I think I've already shaken up his life enough."

"Come home and take care of it," Kate advised. "Quick and simple."

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s not that easy. I can’t leave during the case without raising his suspicion. Besides, I barely let him touch me now. I let him eat me out and fuck me yesterday because he cornered me against the kitchen counter, and he said I tasted different. The whole vibe was off after."

"Well, yeah," Kate agreed. "Your whole-body changes when you’re pregnant."

"Now I think he’s convinced I slept with someone else or have someone at home waiting for me, and I’m just bamboozling him," Leah said with a saddened tone.

"I finally climbed into bed with him last night after sleeping on the couch for close to a week, and he immediately rolled over and scooted close to me. His hand found its way to my belly, and it took everything in me not to blurt it out then and there," Leah admitted.

"What?" Kate asked. "That you’re pregnant?"

"No," Leah laughed sardonically. "That I’m in love with him."

Somehow, that revelation shocked Kate more than the news of the pregnancy.

________________________________________

"Are you going to answer that?" Vincent gestured towards Leah's vibrating phone, but she shook her head. They sat together at the kitchen table, poking at bits of scrambled eggs and fresh strawberries on their plates.

"He wants me to come home and join his firm," Leah stated firmly. "I have no desire to work with him or anyone in his firm."

"Your dad is a lawyer?" Vincent inquired, sipping his tea.

"You really don’t know much about me, do you?" Leah asked seriously. "That’s the only thing I inherited from him," she added with a hint of bitterness. "I come from a long line of deceitful, conniving, bald-faced lying lawyers. All on his side."

"And your therapist," Vincent tapped the back of her phone, "You’re not going to answer their calls either?"

"Why would I?" Leah chuckled. "She's just going to tell me to stop messing around with you and go home. Besides, why are you worried about this?" she asked. "I’ve had a therapist since I was sixteen; I'm not going to throw myself from the balcony or anything. I’m just in a slump.”

"I don’t want you to isolate yourself while you're here," Vincent said, offering her a kind smile.

"Well, ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?" Leah half-joked.

Vincent laughed and nodded in agreement.

"You know this trial is going to be tough, right?" he questioned.

"I know," Leah replied, taking a sip of her tea and nodding at him. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm built for war."

_______________________________________

Leah found the trial fascinating and bizarre, a stark contrast to the sterile courtrooms she was used to back home. The architectural setup, with the judges raised above the room and Sandra seated far away from her own counsel, spoke volumes. The trial itself felt like a free-for-all, and when Vincent walked out in his robes with the frilly collar, Leah had to stifle visible awe and a wave of humor. The awkward moment of listening to Zoë and Sandra’s recorded conversation made Leah's skin crawl. It felt like an invasion of privacy, adding to the overall invasion already present. The recording painted Sandra as a sexual deviant, merely a bisexual woman ready to prey on Zoë. The avocat general, or ‘the bald bastard’ as Leah later dubbed him, tore poor Zoë apart. She held her ground, but he exuded an accusatory nature that even Leah, seated among the gallery, felt.

By some stroke of luck, Vincent had arranged for a translator to feed a translation into an earpiece for Leah. This delayed her reactions, but she noticed Vincent checking on her every few minutes. When Vincent spoke without any objection thrown out, Leah was taken aback. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated in America, she thought.

“That’s beside the point,” the translator's voice came in Leah’s ear, half a second after Vincent's words, “and sexist.”

Leah felt her stomach drop in the best way as she looked at him. A reality dawned on her—one she had ignored for long over a week, only showing itself in random bouts of nausea and aversion to her longtime perfume—that she was carrying his child. The realization nearly drove her crazy as she watched him lean against the banister, witnessing the same awkward interview she had seen with Daniel unfold in court. The Présidente du tribunal interrogated Daniel, questioning his change of heart regarding the gaffer tape, and Vincent was quick to mention a psychiatrist's observation of shock as a possible reason for his altered memories.

Sandra watched like a hawk as her son was interrogated, and Leah sensed her strong desire to shield him, to envelop him in grace, even from her spot in the vacant spectator’s section. She was permitted to stay there because she was privy to the case's confidential details—a fact that even surprised her. Vincent swiftly intervened, coming to the boy's defense and engaging in a heated argument with the avocat.

From then on, everything blurred. The splatter analyst presented their testimony, offering a hypothesis that faced multiple challenges. The reenactment of the incident, the whole shebang, unfolded before the entire court.

The switch to English at Sandra's request was a welcomed relief for Leah. The speculation about Samuel's suicide attempt and his argument with the therapist felt all too familiar to her. A woman being blamed and scorned for a man's failings— a tale as old as time. Vincent intervened, arguing that the burden was shared by both Samuel and Sandra. However, Leah couldn't focus on his words. All she could see were his eyes, his emotions, the way he expressed himself, his beautiful and unique features.

After court adjourned, Leah joined Sandra and Vincent in the main lobby. The trio walked out together in silence, each grappling with the intensity of the morning. When Vincent suggested driving Sandra home, Leah declined the offer to join, deciding to walk the short distance to Vincent’s apartment to clear her head, feeling too exhausted and overwhelmed by the emotional dynamics at play. In the ensuing hours, she found herself entwined both emotionally and physically in Vincent's bed sheets, until sleep mercifully claimed her.

_________________________________________

In the quiet hours of the morning, Vincent slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around her, drawing comfort from her warmth. She sighed softly from his embrace as he molded himself around her form.

"What did you guys talk about tonight?" her sleepy voice inquired, though her mind had conjured numerous scenarios before she drifted off.

"We talked," Vincent whispered by her ear, "about life, about you, about everything."

"Mhm," Leah mumbled drowsily, "I wanted to punch that bald prosecutor in the throat."

"We didn't discuss the case," Vincent said, planting a kiss on her shoulder blade.

"You talked about me," Leah rolled over, opening her eyes. "Gossipers."

Vincent smiled, his eyes crinkling. "No gossip. I reserve that for my mother."

"You're not being honest," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "You didn't hear her call me a black cat weeks ago, yet you use the same term now. That's not a coincidence. You're a gossip."

"No," he shook his head. "The night you accused me of being with her, I was trying to understand why I feel the way I do about you. I was hoping she would have some advice to make sense of all this.”

"And?" Leah inquired. "What did you conclude?"

"Witchcraft," Vincent chuckled, making Leah laugh. "We didn't reach a conclusion. I just came back to you, and it all fell into place."

"And then you returned home," Vincent began, his words measured, "and you're closed off.”

"This isn't my home, Vincent," Leah corrected him, observing the sadness in his eyes.

"But it could be," he suggested. "You're here, in my bed, in my thoughts, in my heart."

"It's not that easy," Leah replied. "Let's get some rest, okay?"

Vincent's tired eyes silently agreed as she turned away, shutting her eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

_________________________________________

Seated in the gallery, Leah pressed her palms firmly under her thighs, a wave of sickness washing over her. The sound of Samuel's voice, engaged in a heated argument with Sandra, stirred a deep-seated rage within Leah, aimed at her manipulative and despicable father. The echoes of the fights from her childhood amplified her anger, intensifying it twofold. Glancing at Vincent, his arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, Leah finally understood why he had kept the file from her until now. The conversation, particularly about language and speaking English as a middle ground, painted a picture of confusion and struggles for their potential future children, such as the one Leah secretly carried, under the shadow of their distinctly American mother.

Resentment. Manipulation.

Those were the only words Leah registered.

The realization terrified her, sending shivers down her spine. As she and Vincent locked eyes, she sensed that he comprehended the turmoil swirling in her mind. With a trembling hand, she reached to her right and clasped Daniel's hand, feeling his tremors mirroring her own. From that moment on, Leah tuned out everything else, focusing solely on the boy beside her, a reflection of her own struggles and fears.

_______________________________________

In the days that followed, social media buzzed with chatter about Sandra, while Leah and Vincent lingered in Paris, Sandra and Daniel retreated to their chalet.

As the court session resumed two days later, Daniel's testimony was set to unfold in an empty gallery, and Leah opted to wait outside the chamber, avoiding the potentially twisted details that Samuel Maleski might have implanted in the young boy's mind. While Sandra was far from perfect, Samuel's darker side seemed doubly sinister and oblivious. Sandra, on the other hand, acknowledged her imperfections as a mother, a woman, and a human being—a trait that Leah found admirable.

As the chamber doors finally swung open, Vincent's reassuring smile conveyed all Leah needed to know. They hailed a car and squeezed in, with Sandra phoning to check on Daniel, who graciously approved of her belated dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. In the back seat, Vincent kept a watchful eye on Leah, who observed their surroundings as the car navigated the streets, eventually arriving at the restaurant.

“That’s the first fucking time in our life we win!” Vincent proclaimed amidst laughter at the table, responding to Sandra's inquiry about their celebratory customs. A waitress arrived with more sushi and a round of sake, which Leah politely declined, opting for a simple bowl of rice and water.

When Leah's phone rang, she excused herself and stepped outside, where she found Nour and a few other colleagues enjoying a smoke break.

"Evan proposed," Kate's voice crackled through the earpiece.

"Congratulations... I think?" Leah chuckled.

"I turned him down, as I always do," Kate replied matter-of-factly.

"Maybe next time," Leah teased.

However, as she glanced back through the window, her stomach churned at the scene unfolding inside—Vincent's hand lightly tracing Sandra's cheekbone, drawing her close into his embrace, where he ran his fingers through her hair. Sandra reciprocated, tenderly touching his face as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Leah abruptly ended the call with Kate and stood frozen, her gaze fixed through the glass. Catching Vincent's eye, he swiftly rose from his seat, Leah’s strides purposeful and swift as she made her way down the uneven sidewalk, tapping away on her phone to order an Uber. With the car mere moments away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually, Vincent caught up to her just as she was about to step into the waiting car.

"Leah—," he began, but she cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Don't. You can fucking have her," she retorted sharply.

Slamming the car door shut, she drove off without a backward glance.

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

#vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi x original female character #maitre vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi #the verdict

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the-marshals-wife · 2 days

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Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

#orm marius x reader #orm x reader #ocean master x reader #orm imagine #aquaman and the lost kindgom #patrick wilson #aquaman imagine #orm fanfic #aquaman fanfic #my writing #strangers like me from tarzan is 100% orm-coded and i couldn't resist using it for the title #aquaman

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sophiamcdougall · 4 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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luna0713hunter · 2 months

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"Um,Ryo,wh-whats this exactly?"

When Sukuna places an odd looking mug of dark red liquid in front of you,you feel yourself sweating slightly.

Sukuna merely groans, "right,i forgot."

And then drops three marshmallows in your mug,just the way you like it. You dont know to be touched by how he remembers the way you like your hot chocolate,or be scared of what the suspicious red liquid is made of.

"no i-" you smile awkwardly, "thank you,but that wasn't what i meant."

"you want more?"

"no!" You sniff the mug slightly and frown, "what is this,Ryo?"

Sukuna sips his own drink without much care in the world,and takes a sit across yours.

"blood,what else?"

When he sees the color drain from your face, suddenly,he starts cackling like a maniac.

"oh shit- you should see the look on your face!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS IN THIS DRINK RYO!?"

He doesnt stop his cackling,only wiping tears away from his eyes as he looks at you with mirth.

"taste it, you'll figure it out."

You give him a face, "heck no!"

"babe,its not blood-"

"how the fucking can i trust you!!!"

Sukuna just laughs and drinks his streaming, whatever,and shrugs.

"then you'll never know."

When you watch the small marshmallows starting to melt in your own drink,you give it one more sniff before taking the smallest sip you could.

And when the sweet taste of chocolate burst on your tongue,you let out a surprised sound and glare at Sukuna.

"Red velvet chocolate? seriously?"

"what?you expected it to really be blood? seriously?what am i,a demon or something?"

You snort and drink your hot chocolate happily.

"nah, you're a curse. The king of them actually."

"yeah yeah,funny."

And when you watch the snow fall from outside your window,you smile and turn toward your boyfriend with an innocent grin.

"so,can i have another mug?"

And when Sukuna places your second mug in front of you with four marshmallows on top this time,you cant help but to think that its the best hot chocolate you've ever drank in your entire life.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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earthtooz · 8 months

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x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous.

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.”

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!”

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”

“No one. Now get lost.”

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

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

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

“What guy?”

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.

“So why aren’t you apologising?”

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

#i didn't edit this btw don't judge #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic #genshin fic

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ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

more best friend james with no boundaries headcanons please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 like sirius and remus definitely side eye the two of you but they don’t ever make it noticeable 🫢 they’re just waiting for the two of you to finally get together 😵‍💫 like james definitely rests his hands in between your thighs when he’s cold and remus is always muttering to sirius how that is definitely not best friend behaviour

Sirius and Remus stop in tandem, beat up shoes stomping to a halt in the middle of the floor. It would be comical if their gazes weren't so scrutinizing and judgmental towards you where you're curled up in James's bed.

"Are we interrupting something?" Remus raises a brow at you where you lay pressed to James's chest, his hands wrapped around your waist and tucked into the space between your thighs. He'd been griping about the chill of the air against his hands after realizing they wouldn't stay tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, so when he'd pried your thighs apart to slip his hands between them, you'd let him get his fill of your body heat.

"Jus' the most boring book I've ever read," James drawls, popping his head lazily off of the pillow to stare at his friends, "Don't even know why she reads this shit, anyways."

"I read it because I like it," You hum, used to James's disdain of your more 'boring' (read: not dangerous, reckless, or foolish) hobbies, "But I'm more curious as to why you read it over my shoulder, James, if it's so boring and awful."

"Not much choice," He reasons, but you both know he could shut his eyes if he wanted to be free from your novel, and you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of pressing his hands painfully together as a reprimand.

James makes a sort of stunted groan as his knuckles scrape painfully together, but when you release your grip, he doesn't pull away. He merely settles his head back against the pillow, eyes sneakily roving over the page you're reading.

"Remus, a word." Sirius grabs the man by his right scarred hand, tugging him towards the closet. They disappear inside together, and when the door shuts behind them, and Sirius manages to swat the sleeve of his leather jacket out of his face, he stares at Remus with wide, urgent eyes.

"Did you see that?" Sirius gawps, as if maybe Remus hadn't noticed James's hands resting inches from your core, "That is not normal friend behavior?"

"I bet two galleons they kiss within the month," Remus wagers with a smirk on his face, and the expression is contagious where it transfers to Sirius right away.

"Within the week," Sirius solidifies his stance, holding a hand out for Remus to shake, "You've got a deal, Moony."

The moment the closet door shuts behind Remus and Sirius, you crane your neck to look backwards at James.

"They're not even trying to hide it anymore," You breathe, keeping your voice low so that the two boys can't hear you, "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Kissing, probably," James snorts, "Pulling someone into a closet by the hand is not normal friend behavior."

"When are they just gonna give it up?" You scoff, twisting back around to resume reading, "They're so obvious."

"Dunno, love." James hums, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your shoulder where your tank top has slid off of the skin there. He readjusts his hands between your thighs, nestling them imperceptibly closer to your heated core, "Some people are just oblivious."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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hyunsvngs · 6 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film.

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

6K notes · View notes

marvelsswansong · 5 months

Text

melting snow

summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)

☆ word count: 4.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

one: subtle praise

At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.

"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.

But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.

"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.

"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.

So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.

Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.

"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.

"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."

He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.

"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."

Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."

It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.

A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.

"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.

"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."

He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.

"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.

"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.

The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.

------------------------------

two: soft touches

Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.

After all, what is love if not vulnerability?

And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?

So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.

He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.

He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.

He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."

Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.

Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.

It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.

"I owe you, Coriolanus."

Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.

Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.

Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.

"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.

"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.

Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.

"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.

"O-okay."

The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

-------------------------------

three: nicknames

Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.

Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -

He almost never calls you by your name.

Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.

"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"

Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.

Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.

"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.

"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."

"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.

"Come on you silly man."

He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.

Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.

"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."

"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"

When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.

"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.

"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."

That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.

"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.

"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.

My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.

Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.

As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.

You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.

Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.

And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.

But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.

It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.

"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.

"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.

"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."

Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.

His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.

-----------------------

four: lavish gifts and deep marks

Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.

Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.

"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.

His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.

"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.

You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.

"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."

Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...

He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.

So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.

You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.

You scrunch your face at the odd question.

"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"

Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.

"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."

And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.

Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.

"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.

"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."

You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.

After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.

---------------------------------------

five: killing for you

Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).

At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.

No mercy, no hesitation.

After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.

The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.

He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.

Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.

The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.

The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.

The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.

And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.

"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.

"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.

"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."

Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.

Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.

"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.

"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"

And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.

It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.

"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.

"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.

"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"

He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.

But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.

"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."

No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.

"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.

"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"

"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"

"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"

The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.

"Corio? Love?"

The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.

Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.

"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.

You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.

"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"

"Hm?"

It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.

"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"

He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.

"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.

"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.

Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.

"I suppose."

The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.

"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.

The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.

"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"

He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.

a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.

please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!

ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #thg x reader #the hunger games #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k

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roseglazedlens · 7 months

Text

⦑ 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER synopsis: Nanami is pent up after work, so you give him the best fifteen minutes of his day as a reward. content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, suit kink, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, degradation kink, semi-public exhibitionism, creampie, manhandling, cumdump, rough, daddy kink, pet name (princess) a/n: first jjk fic. blond in blue dress shirt supremacy... that is all. « 758 words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

Nanami Kento is the kind of man who fucks hard. Especially after a long day of work and his stress is pent up in his system, Nanami will use your body like the cumdump you are. He claims your body has magical healing powers that can make any headache or muscle cramp disappear.

As he enters your shared home, you, the doting girlfriend as always, greets him: “How was work, honey?” But today, Nanami is not in the mood for conversation. The moment you are close enough to be held by him, he turns you around and without a hesitation says:

“Bend over.” The low drawl and commanding tone in Nanami’s voice triggers a surge of heat towards your belly. He knows you love his directness, and he’s not afraid to make you come in your underwear right now, knowing that he can make you come over and over again until you beg to stop. Looking down, you see how his dick tents over his expensive dress pants, and the mere image of him thinking about you during work or driving home gets you excited.

And that's exactly where you are now. Nanami unbuttons his white suit jacket, tailored so firmly it hugs his trapezius muscles and arms that it needs to be removed for easier movement, easier movement to fuck you senseless without hindrance. His cuffs roll up to his elbows, exposing his forearms that tenses as he unbuckles his belt swiftly with one hand. Then Nanami shuffles his pants down, just enough to take his massive fucking cock out and taunt you with his size. You shift your pants and underwear down yourself, because you know Nanami doesn't like waiting.

Your hole is already dripping wet, expected, the insides of your cunt still remembering how Nanami was fucking your insides into the bed this morning. He can only spare fifteen minutes with you before he leaves for work, and Nanami makes sure you always cum on time. You know your boyfriend is a horndog but he always has the decency, or patience (unlike you) to eat your home cooked dinner first before trying to get you into the bedroom. But today? He can’t wait—and so can’t you.

Nanami doesn’t waste a single second not inside of you. He slams himself right in, and your cunt instantly wraps and tightens around you, remembering the shape of him, just how he likes it. His grip on your love handles is firm, unrelenting. Each thrust of him forces a choked breath out of you, whimpered mumbles of his name to go faster and faster until your pussy catches the high you’ve been so desperate to release.

“K-Kento, what if someone hears us? Or worse… sees us?” You feel a whisk of wind through your calves, and look back to find the door not closed fully.

“Good. Let’s show them how much of a filthy slut you are for taking my cock.” Nanami loosens his tie, and your pussy clenches at the sight of it.

“Fuck, if I didn’t have to go to work, I would be fucking your pussy like my toy from morning to night. Windows wide open. Let them see the slutty look on your face when my cock is inside of you."

“Please, daddy.” You're begging now, your orgasm is threatening for release but you're not quite there yet.

“Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” Nanami doesn’t stop, fully intending to keep going until he reaches his own high, and you reaching yours.

“Please daddy... I want all of you...”

“So my load this morning isn’t good enough? You want seconds? Aren't you a greedy little girl?”

He pulls on your hair hard, and the moans that came out of you is indistinguishable from pleasure or pain. An electrifying sensation rushes underneath you, and this time, you give in to the feeling and come on his dick without restraint.

“I’m coming too, princess.” Only when you finishes cumming, he then permits himself to come too. Trails of white strings shoot inside of you, filling every crevice of your insides with his sticky goodness as he lets out a low grunt of pleasure.

When he’s done, Nanami pulls up his pants, and he’s wordless again. He looks at his watch, and it's been exactly fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of sex each time, just as planned, no more and no less. Even with sex, Nanami never goes overtime.

“Can't wait for my fifteen minutes tomorrow, Kento.”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. idk who likes jjk in my taglist but i think u guys know tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk season 2 #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk nanami #nanami

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empresskylo · 1 year

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can you do something with the cod men when you're mad at them? like how they would react to that?

includes: simon, könig, johnny, price, & alejandro. afab!reader; referred to in feminine terminology. nsfw content! a/n: i got a little carried away with ghost's so his is quite a bit longer than the others. my bad.

Ghost

♡ he doesn’t like when you’re mad at him, but he also doesn’t let it bother him too much. he’s glad you care enough to actually get mad at him. it’s a weird way of him knowing you care deeply about him. but it only infuriates you more when you’re cursing him out and he’s just standing there smiling at you.

♡ ghost likes to think that sex is the answer to everything with you. and i mean…. i wouldn’t complain.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

♡ you were sitting down on simon’s bed, annoyed and pouting. you had rehearsed what you were going to say to him over and over in your head as you waited, pissed. the anger inside you skyrocketed the second ghost appeared at his door. he sauntered over to you, clearly seeing the ire spreading over your features. “what’s wrong, pet?” he asked you, his hand reaching out and skimming your chin softly. he tilted your head up with one bent finger so you were looking at him. “you mad at me?” you could hear the playfulness in his tone. god, his voice was so attractive when he spoke lowly like that. you momentarily forgot the entire reason you were sitting here waiting for him. “I think that’s quite obvious.” you scoffed, shaking your head out of his grip. “mmm. want to get it out of your system then, yeah?” he asked. you knew he didn’t mean letting you curse him out while he sat there and took the beating. he meant fucking you. you clenched your fists as ghost stroked his fingers through your hair, twirling the end of a strand absentmindedly. “simon,” you began, ready to chew him out. before you could finish your sentence, simon was hunched over, his hands on his knees, level with you, placing a kiss on your jaw, his hand somehow grabbing your rising wrist without looking as you reached up to push him away. then he kissed your neck, and back up to your jaw. he saw the goosebumps rise on your flesh. he hovered his lips above yours. you could feel them ever so slightly as you spoke. His hand still clutching your wrist in his. “we can’t just fuck every time we’re mad at each other,” your voice was much less confident now compared to mere moments ago. ghosts eyes darted between your own, kissing just below your lips then hovering above them again. “sure we can." you gulped as simon pushed you back on his bed. you gave such little resistance that you wanted to scold yourself for being so weak. You saw ghost smile, knowing you were succumbing to him, barely able to even put up a fight. It was so fucking easy for him. You wanted this as much as he did. his hands teased the hem of your shirt as he finally connected your lips together. his tongue entered your mouth as his hands moved south, slowly unbuttoning your pants. you groaned into the kiss, ghost’s fingers teasing your slit over your underwear. He pulled away and yanked your jeans the rest of the way off. he left kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping at your clothed core. he hooked his fingers along the hem of your panties and pulled them down painfully slow. he settled himself back between your legs, his hands sliding up to your waist and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed making you gasp. “m’sorry, pet,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust. you whimpered as he attached his lips to you, and began sucking and licking. your hands gripped the bed sheets as you felt one of his fingers slide inside of you, his mouth working your clit simultaneously. “m’sorry,” he mumbled against you. you could barely hear him as you let him pump his fingers inside you, his mouth making obscene noises as he devoured you. right before you were about to come, he paused. you whined as a now shirtless simon hovered above you. He pried the shirt from your body and leaned his head down to place kisses on your neck as he mumbled apologizes. “m’sorry. m’sorry. m’sorry. ” he whispered against your skin. he kissed your nipple then sucked it into his mouth. you groaned when he released it with a pop. “do you forgive me, pet?” his hands came up to knead your breasts. you tried to clear your head as you spoke but it was hard when simon was sending waves of pleasure through you, making you arch your back into him. “you don’t even know why i’m mad,” you said breathlessly. you cried when ghost pulled away from you, a fist on either side of your head holding himself up. he looked you up and down before he spoke. “do you forgive me?” he asked again, ignoring your previous comment. god, why did he have to be so difficult sometimes?

you sighed, most of your anger washed away the second he started kissing you anyways. “yes. i forgive you.” he smiled, “that’s my sweet girl,” he cooed before entering you without warning. you gasped, your hands immediately reaching up to hold on to him, nails digging into his back. “that’s right, pet. show me how angry you are.” he began to ram into you, your nails scratching and clawing at him, drawing blood, your head lulling in pleasure. ghost kissed your collarbone, then up your neck, then your lips. He groaned at the pleasure mixed with the pain from your claw-like fingers on his back. “Jesus. fuck—simon,” you mewled. his hips rocked against yours at a steady pace. “tell me why you were mad at me.” you noted how he used the past tense and mentally rolled your eyes. “what?! now?” he didn’t slow his movements, giving you a serious look. he always wanted you to soften and forgive him before he even found out what it was you were pissed off about. He had a backwards way of looking at things. you told him through moans and gasps why you were mad. it sounded silly now that he was balls deep inside you. he didn’t stop rutting against you the entire time you talked. he laughed as you struggled to get the words out in coherent sentences, losing your place multiple times as he ground his hips rather harshly. “m’sorry,” he said again, but for an actual reason this time. he placed a soft kiss on your lips. “forgive me?” he asked, his eyes looking between your own, his hands pulling your hips up so he could hit you deeper. you basically screamed “yes! yes, i forgive you.” simon groaned loudly, your walls fluttering around him, both of you orgasming in sync. he spilled inside you, his seed overflowing as he continued to pump lazily into you, every move making him growl before collapsing on top of your body. he rolled over so you lay on top of him now, his hand stroking your hair as he held you, a large, self-satisfied smile on his face as he looked down at you.

König

♡ he hates when you’re mad at him. he can read it so easily on your features. it hurts to know he somehow hurt you. “what did i do?” he’d ask the moment he saw your brows furrowed and nose scrunched.

♡ he makes up for it by apologizing and promising to do better. promising to fix whatever it is you��re upset with him about.

♡ and he likes to drown you in sweet gestures. he’ll give you your favorite flowers, make you dinner, swoop in to lift something heavy that you were trying to life on your own, offer to carry you if you look even the slightest bit tired. and that’s not to say he doesn’t do that kind of stuff already, but he goes overboard when he knows you’re mad. he does it to the point that you finally break, usually laughing.

♡ “i got that,” könig mumbles as he takes the heavy box out of your hands and sets it on the table. you scowl at him but say nothing. he watched you as you tried to grab another box from up high. he beats you to it, “got it,” he says. you turn to stare at him. “i can do this myself,” you mumble like a child. “i know,” he says softly. you roll your eyes. later that day, he’s already stolen the dirty dishes from your hands and washed them, tied your shoe you when you started to reach down, grabbed a mug from a high cabinet and handed it to you. you were slowly breaking. when you began pulling off your hoodie, hot from all the running around, you felt two large hands slide over yours, stealing the hem from you and pulling it off. you couldn’t contain your giggle. “jesus, könig.” he smiled at you once the material was shed and began folding it in his arms. he nudged you and you rolled your eyes playfully, letting him wrap his arm around you and kiss the top of your head.

Price

♡ doesn’t like when you’re mad but also never thinks he’s wrong. however, my guy is smart enough to never admit that. he’s happy to admit to any fault, it’s almost infuriating how much of the blame he’s willing to accept. you even tried tricking him once: pretending to be mad at something you knew he didn’t do. he apologize immediately, pulling you into him and kissing the top of your head. you didn’t have the heart to tell him this was all a trap.

♡ he thinks it’s funny when you’re mad. even though he’ll take the brunt of your anger, he can’t help but chuckle. “what’s so funny?!” you asked in the midst of ripping him a new one. “just like the way your face gets all scrunched up when you’re mad,” he said before booping the top of your nose. “can we focus here, please?!” “right, sorry, love. back to it then,” he said waving his hand in the air, encouraging you to continue your scolding.

♡ it makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. you always fold. he just accepts his wrongs to easily when it comes to you. “i’m still mad,” you mumble after letting your anger go as price took your words to heart, saying he was sorry, and promising to not hold back secrets from you.“yeah?” he asked a bit cheekily. he sauntered over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around you so your back was pressed to his front. he leaned down and kissed your cheek before talking softly. “and what could i do that would make you less mad?” his hands slid across your abdomen and down to your waistband. your instinctively fell back into his touch making him chuckle in his chest. “let me take care of you then, love.”

Soap

♡ johnny hates when you’re mad at him, especially if he knows its something he did really wrong. He gets so stressed out when he knows he did something to piss you off. And of course, the guys–knowing how much it bothers him–like to tease him about it.

♡ “uh oh,” gaz snickers. “She looks fucking pissed,” price remarks, crossing his arms, enjoying the panic that is rising on soap’s face. “Good luck, amigo,” alejando pats soap on the back as you approach.

♡ he’s such a soft himbo, i imagine it’s hard to stay mad at him anyways.

♡ soap runs his hand through his hair as he gazes down at you. “Shit, baby. I didn’t think that’d piss you off so much.” you scowl up at him. “I’m sorry, lass.” he dips his head to try and kiss you but you turn your head to the side. Pain fills johnny’s eyes as he sighs. He scratches the back of his neck, hating that you won’t even look at him. He falls to his knees, grabbing your attention. He grabs your hands, “i really am sorry, love,” he pleads. You look at him with slight panic on your face. “Johnny!” you hiss. “People are looking! Get up! Please!” you plead, trying to pull at his hands to get him to stand. “No. I deserve this. I have to pay for my sins,” you can hear the teasing tone in his voice. You roll your eyes, subduing a smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you say laughing, still yanking at his hands. Soap takes that as his moment to stand up and bury his head in your neck before you have the chance to switch back to angry mode. He pulls you into him, kissing your neck and up towards your lips making you giggle with a hand on his chest.

Alejandro

♡ kinda likes it when you’re mad at him??? He likes arguing with you, its fun getting you all riled up. He thinks its hot when you know what you’re talking about and you’re telling him whats what. And he loves the heat that sparks between the two of you were you’re both fuming and yelling at one another.

♡ “You got to be fucking kidding me, Alejandro.” “¿ahora que?” what now? he whined. He spun to face you, raising his brows and crossing his arms as if he had better things to do than put up with this right now. You were fuming with rage as he looked at you so expectantly. If your skin could turn the shade of a cherry tomato, it would have by now. You cussed Alejandro out, your hands raising and moving in the air as you yelled. Alejandro cursed back at you in Spanish, looking down at you with fire in his eyes. Finally, you both took a breath, your faces inches apart from one another having moved into each other’s space the more you argued, both of you having scowls plastered across your faces. You could practically feel the steam pooling out of your ears. “You have never been hotter to me than you are right now, mi amor,” he rasped out, his breath fanning across your lips. “God, you’re so infuriating!” He leaned into you, his hand snaking up and fisting your hair, pulling your head back so you had to look up at him. He gave you a devilish grin, “te encanta, bebe” you love it, baby. You let out a frustrated puff of air before your hands went up and grabbed the lapels of his shirt aggressively, yanking him down with all your strength to crash your lips together. He pushed you back so you slammed up against the wall, biting your bottom lip, drawing blood. You moaned, he grunted. You tore at his shirt and he slid his hand up to rest on your neck, putting just enough pressure to make you wet between your thighs. By the time this was all over, you would both be littered with bruises and scratch marks.

10K notes · View notes

itadorey · 8 months

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 & 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

pairing: neuvillette x gn!reader summary: the melusines are on a mission, you just don't know what their end goal is. (hint: it's to get you and neuvillette together). furina may or may not be involved. genre: fluff notes: pls ignore the fact that melusines live in the water when it gets to the rain. i just thought it'd be a cute scene and i forgot that they would be fine in the water. we can pretend they just don't want to get their uniform wet. i'm also not sure if the cafe serves tea bc i know they sell coffee beans oops. wc: ~3.6k

A huff escapes you as you approach the doors to the Palais Mermonia, late for work and stumbling slightly as you reached for the handle.

"Please wait! Can you open the door for me?"

You pause when you hear Liath calling after you, and you turn to see the Melusine hurrying towards you. She's carrying two boxes in her hands, making it impossible for you to see her face until she comes to a stop next to you.

"Liath!" you gasp, holding open the door with your foot as you reach for one of the boxes. "Let me help you with that."

"Thank you! They are pretty heavy," she chimes, proceeding to stack the other box on top of the one you're currently holding. You're taken aback by her actions, giving her a confused look as she looks up at you and smiles. "I hope you don't mind dropping those off to Monsieur Neuvillette. I have some other duties to fulfill!"

Your eyes soften at her words, and you nod in agreement before shifting the boxes, making sure you have a good grip on them. The lid on the top box is askew, giving you a glimpse of some court documents sitting inside. You quickly fix the lid, glancing over at Liath to see her standing by the door, hands behind her back as she hums to herself. Your brows furrow when you notice that she doesn't make a move to leave, and you can't help but feel confused about her abnormal behavior.

"You should go before it gets too late in the afternoon to complete your other duties," you say softly, earning a confused look from Liath.

"What other duties?" she asks, a hand coming up to her cheek as she gets lost in thought. She gasps softly before meeting your gaze, her hand dropping to her side as she took a step back. "Oh! Yes, you're right. Thank you for bringing those to Monsieur Neuvillette. Bye!"

You watch Liath skip away, following her usual path around the Palais Mermonia. There's still a confused look on your face, and you merely shake your head before nudging the door open even further with your foot. You're still thinking about Liath's weird behavior when Sedene greets you.

"Good morning, Sedene," you greet in return, giving the Melusine a soft smile. "Is Neuvillette back yet?"

"Yes! He's been waiting for you!"

A stressed look appears on your face, and Sedene's eyes widen slightly as you glance towards Neuvillette's office.

"He has?" you ask, earning a nod from the Melusine in return. "Oh. I guess he really wants these court records huh? I hope he isn't too upset that I'm late."

"No, no," Sedene says, shaking her head back in forth to emphasize her words. She gives you a soft smile. "He's waiting for you, not the court records."

"Me?"

Sedene nods, and you can only hum in response before giving her a small nod and walking away. You pause as you reach the doors to Neuvillette's office, shifting the boxes so that they rest on your hip before raising a hand to knock.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette," you say as you slip into his office and shut the door behind you. Your head is slightly bowed down, the respectful gesture preventing you from seeing the way Neuvillette frowns at your words.

"Good morning," he says, setting his plume down before looking up at you. "I've told you multiple times already, there's no need to be so formal. 'Neuvillette' is perfectly fine."

"Pardon me, sir—" you pause when you notice the look on his face. "Pardon me, Neuvillette. I suppose I'm just not used to addressing my higher up that casually just yet."

"Higher up," Neuvillette scoffs, dipping the plume into a pot of ink before writing something down. "That's incorrect. We are equals, are we not?"

"The job description quite literally said 'assistant to the Iudex'," you tease, causing Neuvillette to pause. There's a small smile on your face when he looks at you, and he finds himself clearing his throat before responding.

"We both know you're more than a simple assistant, don't we? I got lucky considering you're ridiculously overqualified."

You deliberately refuse to respond, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you fully process Neuvillette's words. Instead, you glance at the boxes still in your hand, approaching his desk and clearing your throat to get his attention before you speak.

"Here are the court records you asked for. Should I just leave them on your desk?"

Neuvillette nods before giving you a confused look, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifts his gaze down to the boxes in your hands.

"Did something happen to Liath?" Neuvillette asks. Your heart warms at the concern on his face.

"No," you reply, shaking your head softly as you set the boxes down on his desk. "She mentioned she had some other duties to take care of."

"Ah, I was not aware she had any other duties," Neuvillette says, looking down at his desk. You pause at his words. "Perhaps I should have a talk with her and see if there's something bothering her?"

"I'm almost certain she's fine," you respond, unable to stop a smile from appearing on your face. Neuvillette is still lost in thought, wondering how to approach the Melusine. "Perhaps just make sure she's getting enough rest?"

Neuvillette looks up at you, nodding once before picking up his plume once again. "You're right. I'm certain she would've come to me directly if there was a problem. I'll make sure to speak with her later."

You nod at his words, bowing slightly before making your way back to his office doors. "If you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."

"You're not working in here today?" Neuvillette asks, sitting up even straighter as he watches you.

"I apologize Neuvillette," you say, smiling sheepishly before tugging the door open. "I'm afraid that Lady Furina requested my help for the day. I'll be back later to make sure everything is ready to go for tomorrow!"

Neuvillette nods, and he feels the paper on his desk rip slightly as he digs his plume into it. He slides the paper aside, grabbing a new one before speaking once more.

"I see. Tell her I said hello. Remember that tomorrow we meet directly at the Opera Epiclese, not here."

"Yes, I understand. Have a good day, sir," you say, giving him a wide grin before scurrying out of his office. You're gone before he can scold you for addressing him formally, the tapping of your shoes fading quickly as you rush off.

He wonders if there's a reason that Furina has suddenly decided to steal you from him. He decides not to think about it too much.

The tapping of your shoes is drowned out by the rain as you approach the Opera Epiclese.

You silently pat yourself on the back for remembering your umbrella, and you quickly sidestep a puddle before you hurry towards the Fountain of Lucine, stopping when you Veleda huddled next one of the trees nearby.

"Veleda!" you yell, gaining the attention of the Melusine. You wave her over, concern all over your face as you angle your umbrella to shield the both of you from the rain. "What happened? Did you forget your umbrella?"

The Melusine nods before shaking her head, trying to get rid of the excess water in her hair.

"Do you want to come inside with me?" you ask softly, holding out your hand. Veleda shakes her head again.

"No, I have to stay out here and finish my rounds!"

You bend down slightly, placing the handle of your umbrella in her hand before straightening up.

"Take mine. I won't really need it inside," you say, earning a smile from Veleda.

"Thank you! I really appreciate it."

You smile back at Veleda, reaching down to brush a strand of wet hair from her face before walking off. You hurry past the fountain, holding your bag tightly against you in hopes of keeping it dry. Aeife opens the door for you with a smile, and you quickly thank her before rushing inside, being met with smiles from Trow and Blathine.

"Oh no! Did you leave your umbrella at home?" Trow asks, tilting her head as she observes you. There's a trail of water behind you, and you cringe when you realize that you must look like a mess.

"No," you reply, shedding your coat and holding it away from you as it drips. "I lent it to Veleda. She was standing outside in the rain and she didn't want to come inside."

Blathine nods at your words, and it's only then that you notice the two umbrellas in her hands. "We had to finish our rounds but we got caught in the rain. That's why I came in to get umbrellas for both of us!"

"Oh, I didn't know that," you say slowly, watching as Blathine skips to the door. She's gone before you can even ask for the extra umbrella, and you can only hope that it's not raining by the time the trial is over.

"I can take that from you," Trow says softly. "You can head on in. Monsieur Neuvillette is waiting for you. Lady Furina will not be joining today."

You nod and hurry into the main room, grabbing your paper, plume, and a small pot of ink from your bag. Neuvillette watches you as you slide into your usual seat, eyebrows furrowing at your lack of coat and umbrella. It's common knowledge that it tends to rain during trials, and he wonders if you've had a bad morning.

The trial passes by quickly, and your page is filled with notes by the time it's over. Neuvillette looks down towards you and nods, silently letting you know that you should wait for him. You give him a small nod in return, quickly packing up your stuff and heading to the exit.

Neuvillette is already waiting for you by the time you reach the front desk, listening to Trow as she speaks softly to him. You approach them with a smile, digging out your notes once again and passing them to Neuvillette.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Trow," you say, smiling at the Melusine and receiving a fond look in return. "Here are the notes from today's trial, Neuvillette."

"Thank you," he says, taking them from you and putting them away. "I always enjoy reading your notes at the end of a long day."

"Now that that the trial is over, you should go get some food," Trow suggest, waving the two of you towards the door. She pauses briefly, returning to the desk to grab your coat. "Here's your coat. I'm sorry, it's still a little damp."

"That's okay, Trow. A little rain won't bother me," you say, smiling gratefully as you slip it on.

"Did you not bring an umbrella today?" Neuvillette asks, watching as you tighten the tie of your coat around your waist.

"I lent it to Veleda," you say, repeating your words from earlier. You smile sheepishly as he fixes you with an unreadable look, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder as Trow nods along. "I didn't want her to get sick. Oh! But I noticed Blathine taking an umbrella out to her. Trow, did they bring my umbrella back in here by chance?"

"No, they haven't been inside since," Trow says, shaking her head.

"We can share," Neuvillette states. His tone leaves no room for arguments and you simply nod, keeping you mouth shut to stop yourself from objecting.

"That's a great idea!" Trow exclaims, clapping her hands at his words. Neuvillette smiles softly at her before offering you his arm. "I'm not too hungry, but I'd like to join you for tea, if that's okay?"

You nod silently, linking your arm with his and gently resting your hand on his upper arm. The two of you say your goodbyes to Trow, receiving an enthusiastic wave in return before you walk out the door. Neuvillette holds his umbrella out, swiftly opening it and making sure it covers the two of you before descending the steps of the Opera Epiclese.

The rain hits the umbrella with soft thuds, and you shake your other arm to try and get rid of the stray droplets that dot your sleeve. Neuvillette notices the action, and he simply brings his arm closer to his side, pulling you in and making sure you're completely shielded.

"M-Maybe we can pick something up and eat back at the Palais Mermonia," you suggest, hoping that he didn't notice your stutter. He smiles down at you, and your mouth goes dry as you try to ignore the way your heart races at the sight. You glance down at your shoes, frowning slightly when you step over a large puddle. "It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop anytime soon."

The walk to the aquabus station is relatively quick, and the two of you stand huddled close together as you wait for it to arrive. You're greeted by a happy Elphane, who seems excited to see Neuvillette waiting for the aquabus. She greets him with a grin before waving shyly at you, a small umbrella clutched in her hand in an attempt to keep her uniform dry.

The aquabus ride is filled with casual conversation, and Neuvillette takes the time to ask Elphane if there's anything bothering her or any of the other Melusines. He receives nothing but smiles and reassurances in return, and you can feel him relax at her words. The two of you wave goodbye to Elphane as you disembark, making your way towards the Café Lucerne in search of food and a hot drink.

"I can order for the both of us," you say once you're close enough. The two of you stop underneath one of the cafe's umbrellas and you finally step away from Neuvillette. "Is there a certain type of tea you'd like?"

"You can choose for me," Neuvillette replies smoothly, pressing the umbrella handle into one of your hands and a small pouch full of mora into the other. "I trust your judgement. Besides, Menthe has spoken about how good you are at choosing teas she likes. I'm sure you can do the same for me."

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and you silently look around for the Melusine he mentioned, knowing better than to argue about the mora. "Menthe isn't around today, is she? I hope she finally got around to taking a rest."

"I hope so as well," Neuvillette agrees. There's a moment of silence before you spin on the heel of your foot, leaving him behind as you go up to the counter to order. You order your favorite tea, conch madeleines, and two servings of ile flottante, swiftly handing over the right amount of mora before returning to Neuvillette's side. He wastes no time before taking the bag of food from you, using his free hand to gently take back his umbrella before offering you his arm once more. You shyly slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you towards the Palais Mermonia.

"I ended up ordering my favorite kind of tea," you say eventually, breaking the silence. "It's a white tea with notes of peach and ginger."

"That sounds lovely," Neuvillette responds. "It's seems very fitting. A lovely tea for an equally lovely person."

You can't stop the grin that breaks onto your face at his words, and you glance at him bashfully only to find him already looking at you. There's a tiny small on his face as you meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he observes your reaction.

The rain falling around you comes to a stop.

"Oh look! The rain has finally stopped," you remark, looking around you as you approach the Palais Mermona. Neuvillette hums in acknowledgement as he shuts his umbrella, making no move to separate himself from you. "That's good."

"Do you not like the rain?" Neuvillette asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head.

"No, that's not it," you say, lost in thought as you speak. "It just reminds me of something that Lyney's brother told me once."

At Neuvillette's questioning gaze, you continue.

"He said that when it rains, it's because the hydro dragon is crying," you explain, laughing lightly to yourself. "Maybe it's only a children's story, but I don't like the thought of the hydro dragon crying. I think he deserves to be happy."

You turn to see Neuvillette staring at you with an unreadable look, his eyes shining as he hums.

"I think I agree."

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The two of you look up, arms still linked together, to see Furina standing near the front desk. Her hands are on her hips, nose turned up as she taps her foot. You suppress a smile at the sight, instead deciding to greet the Archon.

"Lady Furina," you say, bowing to her before straightening up. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I need you to help me finish what we were doing yesterday," she states, hesitating slightly before sniffling. "Please."

"Yes, of cou—"

"Actually we were just about to have lunch together," Neuvillette says, sending you an apologetic look for his interruption. Furina scoffs, half-heartedly glaring at Neuvillette before crossing her arms.

"Fine!" she concedes, turning her back to the two of you before sending you a glance. "I guess you can come find me when you're done."

She starts to walk away, only to stop when Sedene speaks.

"Lady Furina?"

Furina turns, nodding at the Melusine in acknowledgement.

"If it's not a problem, perhaps I can help you," Sedene continues, smiling softly up at the Archon. "That way we don't cut their lunch date short."

There's silence as Furina sends a sly glance your way, her eyes taking note of the way the two of you are still arm-in-arm. She nods in agreement, walking off complaint.

"You're right. Come find me in a few minutes, Sedene."

The three of you watch Furina stalk away, and you're only snapped out of your daze when Sedene tugs at your coat.

"I can take that for you," she says, and you finally let go of Neuvillette to slide your arms out of the coat. Before you can thank her, she's ushering the two of you towards Neuvillette's office, wishing you a happy meal and shutting the door swiftly as she leaves.

A chuckles leaves your lips as you approach Neuvillette's desk, sliding into the seat across from him as he clears off the table. He unpacks the food carefully, making sure to spread them out before walking over to grab a tea set.

"Forgive me if I'm being too bold," you start, reaching over for the tea you had bought and placing it into the tea pot. You carefully fill up the two teacups, relaxing in your seat after you swipe a conch madeleine off another plate. "But it seems like the Melusines have been acting a bit suspicious lately. I think they might be trying to set us up."

You wait for Neuvillette to wave your words off, but instead you're met with a sharp inhale, a slight hint of pink tinting the tips of his ears. He straightens up in his seat, rearranging the plates on the table as he tries to gather his thoughts.

"Ah, yes," he finally says, clearing his throat before glancing at you. He averts his gaze immediately, choosing to bring his teacup up to his lips instead. He takes a sip before setting it back down, taking his time before finally looking up to meet your eyes. "Forgive me, I believe it's all my fault. You see, I may have let it slip to Sedene that you looked beautiful on a few occasions."

"Oh," you breathe, your eyes widening at Neuvillette's confession. You're frozen in your seat, trying to think of what to say when his eyes widen slightly.

"As I said, please forgive me," he says hurriedly. "I'll ensure this behavior stops immediately and I can discuss your transfer from my office to Lady Furina's if you'd like."

"No!" you say, wincing when you realize your words are louder than you meant them to be. You pause, looking down and clamping your mouth shut. You compose yourself before continuing. "I mean, um, you're quite handsome yourself, you know?"

You look up to meet Neuvillette's gaze, your breath hitching when you see the soft smile on his face. There's an equally soft look in his eyes as he observes you, and he nods to himself before taking another sip of tea.

"In light of this revelation, I would like to ask you if you'd do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner sometime this week," Neuvillette proposes, the smile on his face growing as you nod.

"I'd love to."

The two of you turn when you hear a soft slam, the receding footsteps letting you know that Sedene had returned to eavesdrop. You giggle at the situation, turning back to see Neuvillette staring at the door with a fond look in his eye.

"Something tells me she's going to go tell everyone what just happened," you say, earning a soft chuckle from Neuvillette.

"I get the feeling they've been plotting this for quite some time," Neuvillette admits. "There's been too many coincidences to count."

You hum in agreement, thinking about all the weird behavior the Melusines had been exhibiting lately. Without them, none of this would have happened, and you let out a soft laugh as you realize just how obvious they had been. Your giggle draws Neuvillette's attention back to you, and the two of you share another soft smile as you begin to dig into your food.

"I guess we'll have to thank them then."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

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