#perhaps even more than one person if I’m lucky
Text
the winding path of fate chapter 13 sneak peak
(this is the second half of the first part. I want to rewrite the first half. tbh i'm thinking of posting the first part of chapter 13 since it is relatively long. ngl i feel like i put too many events in a single chapter sometimes. will put up a poll tomorrow when i finish the rewrites.)
With the new day and the cozy safety of your room, the events of last night seemed like they happened a lifetime ago. The fear had mostly subsided, leaving mortification and regret in its wake, especially as everyone was acting so considerate towards you. Looking back, you had no idea what you were thinking, and you realized once again just how lucky you had been.
Your ankle’s swelling had gone down considerably the next day, but it still hurt whenever you put even the slightest bit of pressure on it, so you spent most of the day in bed, reading books, drawing, or staring out the window at the gray sky. Your knee didn’t hurt quite as much either, but you still had to change the dressing regularly. You weren’t without company, though, as Marie sat with you in your room often, bringing you food and helping you put away your newly bought clothes in your closet. She had been horrified when you came home last night, injured. “Oh, Madame, you should have asked someone to get me!” she had lamented. “The streets at night are no place for a young lady to walk by herself!”
Marie wasn’t the only visitor to your room. The Melusines, including those who hadn’t gone shopping with you, also came to see you throughout the day. You supposed that Neuvillette told them about you, for they all brought you cakes and other desserts as get-well presents (you also suspected that they also reported back to Neuvillette about your condition, for when you mentioned to one Melusine how you would like to drink some Fonta, your wish was granted by the next Melusine who visited. However, she also heartily recommended that you drink water from Snezhnaya instead, which held a coolness that was good against swelling, and if you wished, you could ask Marie to fetch a bottle of it for you from Monsieur Neuvillette’s personal stash. She also added that you need not hesitate to ask, as he had more than one bottle. Perhaps all Melusines shared his specific tastes in water, but you didn’t quite believe that was the case).
Rhemia and the other Melusines who had been with you yesterday had been the most distressed upon seeing you bedridden. “I’ll stick to you like glue from now on, Madame! No criminal will escape my sights!” Rhemia had declared, and her sisters nodded vigorously in agreement.
“There really is no need for that,” you tried to decline her offer. Privately, you thought that there wasn’t much a Melusine could do against muggers anyways. “The whole incident only happened because I was careless and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll be much more careful next time, so I doubt it will happen again. Just because I’m Neuvillette’s wife, it doesn’t mean that I deserve special treatment or anything of the sort. And if he put you up to this, then—”
Rhemia blinked at you in confusion. “But this has nothing to do with Monsieur Neuvillette. Not entirely, anyways.”
“It doesn’t?” Now you were confused.
“Nope! I’d do this for all the people important to me! Oh, but I guess you’re more than that, since you’re married to Monsieur Neuvillette! That would make you our mother, I suppose.”
“Um…” There was the m-word again. You considered correcting Rhemia, but she continued on, seemingly not noticing your discomfort.
“You’re always so kind and patient with us, just like Monsieur Neuvillette. You greet us whenever you see us, and you always ask us about our days and listen to our troubles. Oh, and Madame, you’re such a good teacher too! I’ve gotten so much better at drawing humans thanks to your lessons!” Rhemia turned to her friends. “Am I right?”
Her friends nodded enthusiastically. They began recounting all the times you’ve spent with them.
“I’m glad to hear that you all think of me as your friend,” you said after they finished, a little embarrassed but also pleased. You hadn’t expected them to remember so much about you. But you felt a little guilty as well. At first, you decided to become friendly with the Melusines because everyone knew that Neuvillette treasured them greatly and you wanted to be in his good graces so that he wouldn’t have any reason to kick you out. They had always been the ones to come up to you first, especially in the first few weeks after your marriage, and while you didn’t consider yourself to be a particularly friendly and warm person, even you weren’t heartless enough to be cold to such a cheerful race of creatures.
“It’s not just us! I’m sure all the Melusines in the Court of Fontaine feel the same way. You’re just as important to us as Monsieur Neuvillette.”
“Oh…” Looking at their bright, earnest faces, you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes suddenly became misty. Before this marriage, you hadn’t really given much mind to Melusines. They were just the public servants you would occasionally pass by on the street. But now that you were connected to them through Neuvillette, you were belatedly learning just how wonderful they were.
“Thank you,” you said at last, patting each of them on the head. Your hand still stung a little from last night, but you ignored it. “It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Truly. Still, you don’t need to follow me around. If I ever need help, I promise that I will come straight to you. And…I hope that you would all come to the sunflower viewing party we’re holding here next month.”
“Of course, Madame! We wouldn’t miss it for anything!” the Melusines chirped in unison.
By evening, the deluge of visitors had finally ended. You sank into your pillows, feeling exhausted. You weren’t used to having so many people fuss over you. It was unfamiliar territory, one that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate.
Still, as you gazed at the teetering pile of confectionary boxes covered in Melusine stickers on your bedside table and remembered all the get-well wishes you received, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. How did I get so lucky? You wondered. Perhaps even after I leave Neuvillette, we can still be friends…
As you were lost in your thoughts, Marie came into your room again.
“Oh, Madame, I completely forgot to give you this because of everything that happened yesterday. It appears to be from your family.”
Marie handed you an envelope made of thick, creamy paper. You recognized the stationery as the kind used by your father for formal correspondences, and the address written in familiar, flowery cursive on the front was indeed that of your family’s house.
“Ah, that would be from my sister,” you said, tearing the envelope open and taking out the contents. The enveloped contained two cards made of similarly thick paper. They both had an elaborately drawn border of Lumidouce Bells and Rainbow Roses and had an invitation written in the center. This was new.
You are cordially invited
To a celebration
Honoring
Justine’s nineteenth birthday
Semi-formal attire requested (Floral themed outfits are preferred)
P.S. Sister, please tell me if Monsieur Neuvillette has any allergies or requires any accommodations!
“Ugh…” you groaned, putting your palm over your face. “I still haven’t gotten her a present yet!”
That had been the cause of this trouble in the first place, and yet you hadn’t even accomplished your goal in the end.
While we’re on this topic, shouldn’t she have sent the invitations much earlier if she wanted people to RSVP? It’s just like her to do things last minute! And why is she acting like it’s already decided that Neuvillette’s coming?
“Marie, could you please fetch me my pen and paper?” you asked the housekeeper. After you received them, you began to write a reply to tell Justine that while you were coming, Neuvillette definitely wasn’t. But just as you got to that last part, you paused. The idea of the Chief Justice attending a teenage girl’s birthday party all the way out in the countryside was absurd, of course. You tried to picture him sitting at your family’s worn dining table, singing “Happy Birthday” eating the butterscotch cake your housekeeper always made for birthdays, all the while fending off the barrage of questions from your family and friends. I can’t imagine it! It’s just too ridiculous!
It would be better if he didn’t have too much contact with your family, in order to avoid them asking too many questions, and to make the eventual divorce go smoothly.
He rarely even attended the far more glamorous functions of high society, so something like this would be out of the question. His answer would go without asking.
Or would it?
You didn’t really know why you were entertaining the idea. Perhaps being with Neuvillette these past few months had greatly inflated your sense of self-importance—but then again, you thought that the two of you had gotten close enough where asking him wouldn’t be so preposterous. You were friends, and wouldn’t it be ruder to not at least extend an invitation to a friend? Wasn’t the act of asking in itself greatly appreciated?
And…there was a little part of you that would like to show him around your hometown. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and all you could see for miles around were fields of wildflowers and mountains—a common sight in Fontaine—but there were a few spots that you had fond memories of. Since Neuvillette showed you his favorite places, it was only right to repay the favor, even if none of your favorite spots were as exciting as the giant willow tree or Merusea Village.
Recent events, including the latest incident, had taught you the folly of making assumptions, even for seemingly inconsequential things like this. Just because you thought
The worst thing he could say is no, you reasoned to yourself. And it’s not the end of the world if he does. Sure, Justine will be disappointed, but everyone knows how busy and reclusive Neuvillette is, so she’ll understand if he declines.
As if on cue, you heard the front door open downstairs. Neuvillette had returned home. After a brief conversation with Marie, the sound of his heels briskly ascending the stairs and heading in the direction of your room until it stopped in front of your door. There was a soft knock.
“Madame, may I come in?”
“Yes,” you called out, and Neuvillette opened the door and stepped inside your room. He was about to close the door behind him, but then he looked at you. A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he left the door ajar.
Um, why is he just standing there? You stared at him, confused when he didn’t take a seat right away. He simply stared at you, his gaze a mix of worry, uncertainty, and something else. For a second, you wondered if he was that caught off guard by your dishevelled appearance that was a result of staying in bed all day. It took you a minute to realize that he was waiting for you to ask him to sit down. Really, this man… I thought we’re past such formalities.
“You can pull up a chair,” you said, nodding towards the cushioned chairs in the center of the room. He complied, clasping his hands in his lap after settling in his seat and leaning towards you slightly. He stared at you intently, as if afraid that you would disappear before his eyes. You squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing only your rumpled nightgown and that you were lying in bed. You surreptitiously pulled your covers up to your chest.
Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever had a man who isn’t my father in my room, you mused, though you were also aware that this wasn’t really the occasion to think about such things. Well, I guess it technically isn’t the first time, since he carried me back here when I fell asleep in his study that one time. First time that I was conscious, then.
Thankfully, Neuvillette broke the silence and (once again) prevented your thoughts from going in strange directions.
“The robbers will be tried in court shortly,” he said. “It will be a short, simple trial, considering the number of witnesses at the scene. I will not be presiding over it, however.”
“I see,” you nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that.”
Despite that, his brow remained creased with worry. “How are you feeling, Madame? Should I take you to the hospital after all?” he asked.
“No, that really won’t be necessary,” you shook your head vigorously. “It’s only a bad sprain. I’ll probably be able to walk again tomorrow.”
“It is highly unwise to rush your recovery. What will happen if you worsen your injury? The meeting with Furina can be postponed—”
“Don’t postpone it,” you said, leaning over to grab his sleeve and stared into his eyes. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’ll drag myself up the steps of the Palais if I have to.”
Neuvillette looked like he wanted to argue, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. “There’s no need to exert yourself in such a way,” he said at last. “I would be happy to carry you into my office, if you should ask.”
“Carry me into your office, huh?” you leaned back against your pillow with a smile. You sometimes wondered if Neuvillette realized how unintentionally funny he could be. “Wouldn’t that give people the wrong idea?”
“You do have a point. Then, I propose that we arrive at my office early in the morning, before the Palais employees come into work.”
“How about instead of carrying me, I borrow your cane?”
Neuvillette seemed to be pondering your words seriously. “But that would also run into the problem of rousing people’s suspicions. Someone might wonder why my cane is in your possession.”
You turned your head away to smother your laugh.
“It seems that the Melusines have made their visits,” Neuvillette said, looking at the tower of boxes on your bedside table.
“Yes, they were all very sweet. Although, I’m not sure how they expect me to eat all these…” You liked dessert and all, but not to this extent. Perhaps you could bring some of them back home with you to share with your family and friends.
“Clorinde also asked me to pass on her well wishes to you. She was very sorry to hear what happened.”
“I see. Please thank her for me, and tell her not to blame herself for my foolishness.”
“I will do that,” Neuvillette nodded, then was silent for a moment. His solemn gaze as he looked at you made it seem like you were diagnosed with some terminal illness rather than merely spraining your ankle badly and hitting your knee against the ground.
“Neuvillette?” you called out his name in hopes of getting rid of that grave look in his eyes. It made your chest feel heavy.
“Ah, by the way, I consulted with a friend of mine about your injury. She made this drink for you,” Neuvillette brandished a green, ridiculously adorable cup from out of nowhere. It reminded of you of the cups toddlers drank juice out of. “She says that it will help your body recover quicker.”
“A friend of yours?” you repeated, your interest piqued. While Neuvillette would happily talk to you about the Melusines for hours on end and occasionally talk about his (human) acquaintances, you had never heard him call anyone his friend before.
“Yes. She is the head nurse the Fortress of Meropide’s infirmary, and one of the kindest and considerate people I know. I hope the two of you can meet one day.”
“That’s high praise coming from you,” you said, making a mental note of this mysterious friend. “Why don’t we invite her to the sunflower viewing as well?”
“What a wonderful idea. I shall do just that,” he said, then held out the cup to you. “Now, Madame, you should drink this.”
“Alright,” you took a sip of the drink and nearly spat it out. “Bleakness” was the only way to describe the taste. It almost made you want to get out of bed and walk so that the pain could distract you from the torture of your tastebuds. For a heartbeat, you wondered if Neuvillette was trying to poison you. “A-Are you sure this is h-healthy?”
“Of course,” Neuvillette said, looking baffled by your question. “I’ve drank it on numerous occasions, and I’ve always found myself quite refreshed and invigorated afterwards. I asked Sigewinne to make it taste more palatable for you, as I’m aware that her concoctions are not for everyone. She truly hopes it makes you feel better.”
This is palatable? You thought. Did I do something to this Sigewinne person? Whoever she was, she shared the same incomprehensible sense of taste as Neuvillette.
Speaking of Neuvillette, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh Archons, is he expecting me to finish it in front of him? Just as you were trying to come up with an excuse to not drink it, those efforts were dashed by his next words. “Is it not to your liking?” he said quietly. You were vaguely aware that it had started raining outside.
“I…um…” you didn’t know what to say or where to look. You suddenly had the impression that a large puppy was at your bedside, staring at you with sad eyes. Gah, he must be doing this on purpose! Either that, or he must really be fond of that friend of his. “Well, when it comes to medicine, it’s not really a matter of liking it or not liking it, right? A-And since you’ve gone to the trouble of asking your friend to make this for me, it would be rude of me to not drink it, right?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.
“If you do not like it, then you do not need to force yourself—”
“No, no, I mean, I’ve taken plenty of bitter medicine when I was little, and I survived. This will be no different,” you brought the straw up to your mouth and held your breath. Let’s just get this over quickly, you thought, then emptied the cup in one go. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to drink. However, the lumpy texture was still a struggle to swallow. You felt as though you had just eaten concrete.
“That was…certainly something I’ve never drank before,” you managed, flopping back onto your pillows to recover. You opened a box of lemon tarts and shoved one into your mouth to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you wanted to drink some Fonta instead, but decided that it might be a bit uncouth. Of course, some might say that it was unladylike to eat cake in bed in the first place, but you doubted those people ever had the misfortune of having to drink that so-called “healthy drink.” “Please thank your friend for me.”
Neuvillette nodded, watching you as you ate a second, then a third tart. Lemon wasn’t your favorite flavor, but anything would do right now. YYou offered one to him, but he politely declined. His gaze dropped to the papers in your lap. “…Were you writing a letter to someone?” he asked.
“Oh!” you had almost forgotten about that. “My sister Justine sent us invitations to her birthday party. It’s a bit short notice, but it’s in a few days.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you mention it before,” Neuvillette took a pause, as if he had only just taken in the entirety of your words. “Did you say ‘invitations’?”
“Yes,” you nodded. Your hands suddenly felt sweaty. What were you so nervous about? “Since we’re, you know, husband and wife, it’s only natural that invitations would be sent to the both of us. Funny thing is, Justine thinks you’re already coming and has asked me if you require any accommodations, but of course you haven’t given any answer as to whether or not you’ll be attending the party. I-I know that you usually don’t attend public functions, but birthdays parties in our party don’t tend to be very extravagant affairs. It’s usually just a small gathering of close friends and relatives. We can even make everyone sign a contract of confidentiality, if you want. You don’t have to bring any gifts either. I think your presence will be a gift in itself for my sister, haha…”
Oh no, I’m rambling again…why do I keep doing this in front of him? You toyed with the edge of your comforter, suddenly too nervous to look at his expression. Would there be a look of disgust there? Why would there be? Your brain argued back. You haven’t asked anything offensive!
Finally, you dared to sneak a peek. He was staring at your face, as though scrutinizing it for answers to a difficult question.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, thinking that he must be trying to find a way to let you down gently.
“…Do you want me to attend?” he said at last.
You hadn’t expected that question. “What do you mean?” you frowned.
“What I mean is…would it please you—would it make you happy if I attended your sister’s party?”
Ah, so the answer is no, then, you thought. That was expected.
“Well, it’s not my party, so my opinion doesn’t matter,” you said slowly. “Justine would like for you to come, but there is no obligation on your part to say yes. If you like, I can make up some excuse about your absence to tell everyone.”
“But your opinion does matter quite a lot to me,” Neuvillette said. He was oddly insistent about this. “I would like to hear what you think.”
“As I said, it’s not my party. It will not affect me one way or another should you choose to come or not,” Realizing that you might be sounding too harsh, you softened your next words. “It’s okay to say no. I’m sure everyone will understand if you can’t come.”
Neuvillette stared at you for a long while, his eyes unreadable. You could hear the rain pounding against your window, and you turned your head to it. The sky was a dark, leaden gray. It’s been raining pretty frequently these days, hasn’t it? You thought distantly.
“Unfortunately, I have a trial to oversee on that day,” he said. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him clench and unclench his fists. You wondered why he didn’t mention the trial earlier. “I do not think it would be wise for me to attend, in any case. It would be a needless distraction.”
“Alright then. I’ll tell my sister you can’t attend,” you said lightly, then turned your attention to your unfinished letter. You picked up your pen and began to write. Focusing your mind on producing the words helped distract from the tumult of emotions within you—emotions that you didn’t know quite what to make of. Was it relief you felt, or disappointment? Relief for what? Disappointment about what? You couldn’t tell at all.
In any case, it’s over and done with, you told yourself firmly, signing the letter with a flourish. Maybe too big of a flourish. I’ll post this first thing in the morning—that is, if I can walk by then.
You glanced up to see Neuvillette still sitting there. He was drinking from his cup, but he was watching you over the rim. You had long gotten used to him studying you like you were some kind of strange specimen, but it was still awkward, especially in this silence. Your room, which had always felt needlessly spacious to you, suddenly felt very small.
Just as you were debating whether or not to fake a sleepy yawn and ask him to leave, he spoke again.
“You haven’t yet bought a birthday present for your sister, yes?”
“That’s right,” you replied, wondering what he was getting at.
“I won’t have any time tomorrow, but I do have an hour or two to spare after our meeting with Furina. We shall go pick out a present together then.”
You gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I not be? It is customary for married couples to give presents as a pair, is it not?”
“I…suppose so,” you said. Neuvillette was so hard to grasp sometimes. Sometimes, he was clear as a fresh water spring. Other times, like now, you had the sense that you were staring into the sea, unable to see all the way to its bottom.
“Then it is settled,” he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, then leaned forward and cupped your cheek. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to react. “W-Wha…” was all you could manage to stammer out. There was only a millimeter of space between your faces. Your heart sped up a little when his gaze moved to your lips. His thumb moved to the corner of your lip and brushed against it. It took you a moment to realize that he had flicked off a cake crumb.
“I still have some work to finish, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave now,” he informed you, removing his hand from your cheek. Despite that, you could still feel the smooth silk of his glove and the latent strength in his long fingers. “Please rest and get well soon, Madame.”
You could only nod as you gazed up at him. He stared into your eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving your room. It was only when you heard his footsteps recede to the other side of the house that you realized that it was no longer raining.
#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact x reader#my writing#the winding path of fate#is this even slow burn at this point idk#what even is slow burn
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
I saw this and spouted a couple of thousand words.
Summary: You’re the person in control of Jackson’s alcohol production and distribution.
You’ve been trying not to crush on Joel Miller, and having some time away to focus on producing some drinks for the winter dance in 2038 gives you some much needed time apart.
Until you see his beautifully outgrown hair…
Word count: 2.1k
Rating: Mature (just for swearing and drinking)
Tags: Jackson!Joel, Fluff, Angst with a happy ending, Romance, First Kiss
Joel Miller’s hair was going to be the death of you.
As the person with control over the alcohol distribution in Jackson, you were one of the only people allowed in Joel’s small circle of trust. Years ago when he’d joined the community with his sort-of daughter, he sought you out. You, who’d grown up working in your families distillery Before. You who were strong-willed enough to manage the most popular non-essential resource in town, and the arguments that came along with it. Joel, however, was ever the Southern gentleman.
“Excuse me ma’am, sorry to bother ya, but my brother, Tommy…he said you’re the lady I need to come to to barter for more than my assigned ration of whiskey?”
Despite his size, he seemed small in that moment. Nervous. Perhaps even shy?
“Tommy knows better than to call me a lady, ain’t ever been one of those. But he’s right about how I got the hookup. I got a distillery system set up here, raided the Jackson Hole Still Works south of here a few years back for the equipment, but production is still limited. How much you looking for?”
He stood before you, rubbing the back of his neck and pointedly avoiding contact with your eyes. You figured out later that it was lucky on your end he did that, as your usually steely will had a kryptonite in his baby brown eyes.
“Double the ration amount ongoing? I ain’t got nothing physical to trade yet, but I’ll be a full-time patroller soon if ya need somethin’. Or I’m good with my hands”
You smirked and giggled at him then, secretly knowing what he meant (Tommy had been raving on around town about his brothers contracting skills the months he’d been gone in preparation for his return), but you loved messing with guys. And watching his sun-kissed cheeks redden slightly as he realised what he’d said sent a small thrill of power down your spine.
“I…I meant buildin’. Woodwork and shit, can figure my way around a pipe too if need be. I just…” he trailed off.
That was the moment you think it all started, this stupid schoolgirl crush on a 50 odd year old man. Seeing him try not to be vulnerable with a stranger, in a strange town, in a shit world. So you take pity on him.
“Glass bottles. People are suppose to return them, but accidents happen and we have less and less all the time. They’re also heavy so patrollers don’t like to carry them back, but thats usually the currency I have with the others. Lets say average one bottle a patrol, and I get you on retainer for repairs or building work I need, and you got a deal” you stated confidently, stepping closer and held a hand out to seal the deal. Little would you know, this moment would become your undoing.
For years, you two circled around each other, waltzing around the energy you emitted. He’d come to the small distillery you ran out of an old restaurant every week, with a few precious glass bottles, and had a small stilted conversation as you updated your logs with the exchange. You learned he had a dry sense of humour like yours, that you could make the corners of his lips turn upward with a bit of town gossip, and that he’d set up a woodworking room in his house when Ellie move out to the garage. The last one came along with the first of many gifts he started giving you. Tiny little creatures he’d began whittling after the endless downtime of town living had started grating on him. On the house he’d say every time you offered a bottle of beer in exchange, giving you lip on not understanding the concept of a gift.
For years, you danced. You knew Joel didn’t feel anything like that towards you, he’d been very clear about that. A couple of years back, Tommy set him up on a date with the lady who ran the greenhouse - Esther you think? She wasn’t one for drinking so you had no clue about her really - and Joel spent a good portion of your weekly chat groaning on about the upcoming thing. You bantered back like always, but tiny pinpricks hit your heart at how adamant he was about not needing a partner like that. And honestly, it’s not something you’d ever wanted either, especially after losing Talia sometime before Joel even joined Jackson. You thought you’d had your one love, and the pain of losing another had you bat off any attention with your wit and sass, sticking to harmless flirting. But Joel had somehow nudged his way in. You resolved to start building the walls back up.
It had been easier recently. With the winter being so harsh, socialising as a town had reduced, and the council were worried about morale. Ergo - The Winter Dance.
Social events were regular in Jackson, but the council were determined to go all out with this one, wanting to coax as many residents out and having fun as possible. So for the first time, they wanted a full open bar. Usually there was a limit to keep the town from running totally dry, but some sweet talking from Maria and a promise of another raid of Jackson Hole Still Works had you agreeing to overproduce for a month before the dance to create enough supply. This meaning you and a few trusted ‘employees’ were basically living at your makeshift distillery, no time for any sort-of flirting with a certain bearded Texan.
What this also meant was that after a whole month of not laying eyes on the man, you were not prepared for the fact that he’d somehow decided to grow his hair out a bit for the winter. So when you enter the Church where the dance is being held, and you see the man leaning against the makeshift bar, you’re not prepared at all, and with the exhaustion reducing your self control, the walls came tumbling down.
Thankfully, he didn’t spot you as you entered or you knew your face would have given you away, so focussed on something in the crowd. Your eyes followed what he was looking at, and a small smile upturned the corners of your lips. Out on the dance floor was your old lover's sister Dina (who you also thought of as a sister), with her arms around Joel's now grown kid, Ellie. You hadn’t spoken much to Dina recently, after her turning 18 and joining the full-time patrol team keeping her busy, but after her on-off with Jesse the past few years, you were just glad she seemed to be moving on.
You were so focussed on the young girls, you hadn’t realised you had company.
“So you are alive. Still not used to trustin’ people, so I’m mighty glad to see ya hear tonight to prove ‘em right”
Fuck. That stupid goddamn Texan drawl. You had enough self-restraint to not look over to him, knowing that either his baby brown eyes or the new hair growth so perfect for running your hands through would be your undoing.
“Well, the Council thought it would be good for the town if everyone could get white girl wasted, so who am I to deny that request?”
You heard him snort gently next to you. The next few seconds passed in agonising silence (for you at least) before the man consuming your soul made a sound.
“So does she partake in her own goods?”
You whip your head round to look at him, confusion masked on your face, forgetting about the incandescent curls you were about to see.
He’s attuned to your facial expressions by now.
“I mean, can I get you a drink?” he mumbles, gesturing weakly to the bar in the corner where all your hard work for the past month resides.
If you had to stand there any longer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist grabbing those goddamn curls, so without warning, your legs took off, striding you fast and efficiently towards your goal - some fucking liquid courage.
Jeff - one of the bartenders who drew the short straw to work the dance - knew you well enough to have a double whiskey neat, ready for you to slam back the moment you were close enough.
“So you ain’t a nurse your drink kind of gal, good to know”
The fucking Texan drawl had followed you. Of course, he had longer (and so sexy and thick) legs that’d easily keep up with your small stature.
You shoved your glass back toward Jeff, before taking a deep breath and steeling your resolve as you looked back to Joel. Fuck he looks so fucking hot. You can do this, it’s just one night.
“I’ve just spent the past month pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into all this. Think I deserve to drink it however I please thank you!”
Phew. Not awful. Not as witty as you might usually be, but given the fucking hair situation, you were doing your goddamn best,
The heat emanating off him as he scooched closer to you wasn’t helping though.
“Well, I’m grateful for your effort ma’am, this is a mighty fine batch you made”
You couldn’t help but smile at that. With resources slimmer as the years go by, the quality of the alcohol you distilled varied. Joel was always an honest judge, something you’d grown to respect over the years. You knew his words were true, and fuck if it didn’t worsen your resolve.
But he wasn’t interested in you like that - in anyone. So you used the remainder of your self-control to change the subject.
“Didn’t peg you to be a community event attendee Miller, thought this was all a bunch of communist bullshit last I heard?”
He snorted a bit louder this time, somehow still ridiculously attractive.
“I was threatened from multiple angles. Ellie and Tommy together could arguably be more formidable than FEDRA when it comes to forcing me to do shit I don’t wanna do”
Inwardly, you sighed. It was nice that Joel had people who cared about him like this of course, but it just reminded you of what you didn’t have. Dina checked in occasionally, feeling a bit responsible for the woman her sister loved, and although you were friendly with most of Jackson given your role, no one cared enough about your wellbeing to force you to do something you didn’t want to do but would be good for you. Totally your fault of course, you didn’t let many people close enough for that. Still…it ached.
“Woah, hey there girlie, you with me? You started drinkin’ before you got here maybe?”
Fuck. SHIT. You got stuck in your head, and now your stupid hot crush was having to guide you gently out of the church as you slowly came back to your senses.
It was only once you’d turned a corner and were alone with him that you returned fully to your body - realising his large, calloused hand was gently gripping your upper arm.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry Joel, that hasn’t happened in a really long time. I think I’m just tired, with all the extra work and all-”
He quickly interrupted you by turning to face you head on.
“Girlie, you don’t gotta apologise, it’s kinda nice to see you be a bit human for once”
And as you looked up at his face, you saw the softest and kindest expression you’d ever seen on the survivors face, some of his previously slicked back curls popping out in the cold, forming a slightly wild halo to frame him. He was the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen, and you physically couldn’t stop yourself from stepping into his space, and reaching up a hand to gently run through his curls.
Those baby brown eyes widened slightly in shock, but otherwise he didn’t move for what felt like eternity as your fingers were buried and surrounded by his brown and grey locks, pushing through them reverently.
Slowly, one of his hands found your waist and gently tugged you forward as his other hand found your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek. You were totally aware of your body, every feeling, but you no longer had control. And as his head tilted down to meet yours, his lips grazing on yours, you never wanted control of your body again if it meant depriving you of this feeling. You could feel him moving out of pure instinct like yourself, and despite it just being a kiss, you realised deep in your gut, that this was the start of something physically and spiritually breathtaking
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
DON'T GO SHARIN' YOUR DEVOTION !
synopsis. the night before fleeing from his kingdom, the prince begs for you to follow him to a new life.
pairing. mcd!prince!garroth ro'meave x gn!reader
content. fluff/angst. use of “my love”. mentions of arranged marriage. garroth is a charmer,,
word count. 1.1k
a/n. no way, sunnified's first post?!
cerulean blue eyes stared into yours, unwavering in his decision as garroth attempted to look into your heart, mind, and soul; he wanted to know your feelings on the matter, hear your thoughts before you could voice them. there was no way to describe how he was truly feeling, his emotions a whirlwind of the worst things imaginable and his thoughts nothing but murky waters. perhaps, it was un-princely of him to show up to a maiden’s house in the middle of the night, but garroth didn’t really consider himself to be a prince anymore.
by morning, he would be declared dead, anyway.
“you cannot be serious.” your confused voice broke the heavy silence, a humble crease in your brows as you presented nothing but your true feelings. garroth had always liked that about you — even in a tough situation, you had a good head sitting atop your shoulders. the rolling pin you had been using as a weapon only moments before laid on the ground, and a dry laugh escaped you, “garroth, tell me you’re not serious.”
he winced, more-so than when you had nearly taken his vision with your baking equipment, ducking his head slightly as he kept himself hidden from the view of outside. nobody could know he was here, and patrolling guards seemed to be lurking all over the streets as of late. he offered a nervous chuckle in reply, having shaken all his anger out on the journey to your family’s withering business, “i am.”
it still felt weird, years down the line, to see the first prince of o’khasis standing in the middle of your unremarkable bakery, staring at you with those honest eyes of his and being so charming even when he didn’t mean to be. after an unlikely friendship had formed in the middle of a festival one evening, garroth had been insistent on seeking you out more and more often. the bakery had become a sanctuary of sorts for him, acting as a place of mercy during the hectic lifestyle he seemed to lead. the building itself was nothing special, the walls were crumbling, the floorboards creaked, and dust lined the windowsills, but it housed his favourite person. you.
“i’m leaving.” his voice was smooth, determined as he stood in the middle of the room. he looked out of place, handsome features contrasting greatly to the beige clothing he was wearing — in fact, you thought he could almost pass as someone less than royal blood status, if it were not for the fullness of his cheeks and the way his hair shined under candle light. garroth continued with a grimace, “tonight. before anybody notices the mess i left behind.”
“garroth—“ you begin to protest. as a peasant in the bustling city of o’khasis, you had no idea of the self-serving nature that the royal family seemed to follow. it was the chance of fate that you had even been acquainted with the prince in the first place, and lady irene knows you have never been the lucky type, especially when you began to develop feelings for the chivalrous yet shy next-in-line. out of everyone in the world, you just had to fall for the one person you knew you could never have. in a world such as this one, a love story simply could not exist between a prince and a baker. yet despite the obvious class difference, prince garroth seemed intent on seeing you as much as possible. the friendship was kept under wraps, even from your parent and his most trusted allies.
it was not a secret you were willing to share with anyone, and he seemed exactly the same way.
tears welled up, not that you wanted them to but it was futile to attempt to stop them, “don’t go.” a shaky breath, followed by a hiccup, “garroth, you can’t just leave. what about the future of o’khasis? the future of your people? what about me?” despite the peculiarity of it all — the unfortunate blossomed infatuation, the sneaking around, even the occasional difference in view when arguing — there was nobody in all of the ru’aun region more perfect to be your other half. you would be a fool to allow him to go so easily.
“my love, all i think about is you.” he responded ever so softly, taking a singular step forward and closing the gap that had previously been open, “day and night, hour after hour.” he whispered, his hand clasping yours in a gentle hold. a sad smile pulled at his lips, “but there can be no us if i do not go.” oh, that’s right. with the sudden intrusion, and initial shock, you had almost forgotten what had led your secret lover here the first place. the treaty — an arranged marriage between the oldest son of the lord of o’khasis to the daughter of the lord of scaleswind. garroth was to be wed to another, should he not flee tonight.
tears fell down your cheeks. even in his time of desperation, when his life was being decided for him, garroth was still thinking about you. he had always been such a devoted and caring lover, a man willing to put your needs over his own. truthfully, you weren’t sure if you deserved this man. was this really your last moment with him until the foreseeable future?
as if reading your mind, garroth wiped a stray tear. your eyes met his, and you were suddenly reminded of every little moment together over the past few years, “come with me.” he whispered.
you reeled back for a moment, “what?”
he didn’t hesitate.
“this life is not worth living if i do not have you by my side. all of this, it will have been for nought should we be separated.” his words were sincere, accompanied by the squeezing of your hands as thought to clear away any doubts, “you are the one i want to wed in this life, and in every other. i would be foolish to not ask you to follow me to a new life.”
for the first time since he broke into your little bakery, his usual smile was present, making everything else seem dull in comparison. it was a reminder of why you had fallen in love with such an impulsive man in the first place, of how nothing else seemed to matter when he was present. he was comfort, safety, and everything in between.
“okay.” your whisper was small and sweet, but it reached his ears nonetheless, “i’d follow you to the ends of the earth, if you asked.”
he chuckled, carefree and joyous, “good thing i asked, then.”
#𖤓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃.#mcd garroth#garroth ro'meave#minecraft diaries garroth#garroth x reader#garroth ro’meave x reader#aphmau#aphverse#minecraft diaries#minecraft diaries x reader#mcyt#mystreet#mystreet x reader#ro’meave
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
one day someone as obsessed with crowmoth as I am will rise. and then it’ll be OVER.
#perhaps even more than one person if I’m lucky#just need to keep drawing them and start posting my writing for them#and then One Day#mir talks
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
April Shower | jww x f!reader
Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k
Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight
Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention
Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits
Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track
AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖
Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love.
This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary.
His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades.
He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him.
Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level.
There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years.
It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life.
Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off.
With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi.
He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell.
He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight.
Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward.
He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets.
Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love.
“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors.
He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk.
He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines.
He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows.
He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge.
The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to.
Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible.
Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture.
He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button.
The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination.
Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken.
Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.”
Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis.
“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft.
He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight.
“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took.
You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand.
The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes.
He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store.
“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt.
“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it.
He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know.
He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you.
Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more.
Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of.
He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three.
All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps.
He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down.
“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm.
“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses.
You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat.
Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible.
He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too.
Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”
“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?
“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat.
You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”
“Ohhhh.”
Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes.
“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.
He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip.
The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”
“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti.
He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea.
“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself.
“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”
“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.
“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made.
Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself.
He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell.
You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love.
Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.”
He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago.
He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body.
He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”
“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out.
“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.
He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave.
But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves.
You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it.
Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals.
So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know.
He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is.
Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis.
Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store.
He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back.
He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him.
“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt.
“Oh!”
He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder.
“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone.
“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.”
He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere.
“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.”
“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you.
“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back.
You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?”
“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once.
A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?”
He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words.
“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy.
You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them?
But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face.
He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can.
He’ll be busy tonight, after all.
Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven.
He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out.
He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you.
An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to.
A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in.
This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.
The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential.
It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know.
His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing.
“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart.
You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him.
“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why.
Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string.
He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you.
Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times.
He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline.
“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you.
“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”
“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding.
He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like.
You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point.
It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once.
It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him.
You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him.
He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern.
He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze.
By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it.
Still, he can’t help but try, one last time.
“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”
You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”
He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes.
He doesn’t get far before you call out his name.
“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile.
He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away.
That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop.
“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now.
“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed.
“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”
“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.
“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”
Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug.
His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating.
It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own.
He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”
“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you.
He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”
“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks.
“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment.
When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”
Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer.
“Of course I do.”
Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet.
“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently.
“Maybe he missed you?”
You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”
“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?”
You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead.
He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours.
Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness.
The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”
He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness.
He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you.
He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you.
Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press.
The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”
“Black is great, thank you.”
He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him.
You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength.
“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?”
Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.
“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation.
“What are you like in bed?”
Oh.
Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed.
Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-
He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.
“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question.
“Is there anything specific that you like?”
This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them.
They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you.
“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.
“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”
You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug.
You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him.
You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left.
“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy.
“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed.
He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.
“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips.
“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”
I like everything you do.
You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you.
The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head.
That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch.
“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him.
“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell.
“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.
If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it.
He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once.
That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock.
So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit.
He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve.
This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him.
He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt.
He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen.
“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?”
You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it.
“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!”
“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart.
“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”
You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face.
“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks.
He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth.
You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him.
He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too.
It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece.
You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again.
He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them.
You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt.
His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes.
You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”
He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush.
He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.”
His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up.
He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down.
He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud.
“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated.
Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic.
Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”
“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles.
His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life.
“Will you fuck me now?”
His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure.
“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it.
“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant.
He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you.
“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face.
Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.
“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”
He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too.
It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him.
“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows.
He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed.
“Lay down for me.”
Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest.
But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other.
Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least.
He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it.
You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand.
He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs.
It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”
You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?”
He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?”
“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”
It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to.
“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’.
He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up.
The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you.
You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty.
He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation.
He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs.
You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain.
You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours.
Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too.
He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts.
You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin.
He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to.
He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin.
Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely.
He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you.
He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you.
He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you.
He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead.
He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go.
“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall.
But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination.
He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind.
Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better.
You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected.
“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him.
He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.
Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.
“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?”
He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.”
You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion.
“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back.
“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean.
“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile.
He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it.
It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself.
He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him.
His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same.
That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill.
When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him.
He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame.
You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.
Like mother, like son.
Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love.
This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited.
He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you.
You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova.
He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet.
AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖
“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"
“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"
“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"
My Masterlist
#kaili 🪢#svthub#k vanity#wonwoo fic#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo smut#wonwoo x you#wonwoo x y/n#seventeen smut#seventeen fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt smut#svt fanfic#svt x you#svt x y/n#kpop oneshots#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#kpop scenarios
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
hi!! i’m a big wuss and cry at least twice a week. could i possibly request a ghost x reader where reader is new to the task force and everyone but ghost has warmed up to them and really enjoys their bubbly presence? ghost says something kinda mean, reader cries, and then goes quiet for a few days/a week. everyone notices the change in their personality and gets confused until ghost makes it right <3
Thanks for this request!!🙃🩷 same same tho.
We All Have Our Demons
Simon Riley x Reader
Warnings: mentions of crying, swearing, angst w happy ending
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were recently just introduced to the 141 as the newest member. Your sniper skills were top tier, and Price had jumped at the opportunity to make you a part of his team.
The boys on the team had instantly taken a liking to you. You were a welcome addition to the team, and your presence alone helped shift the mood of the team tremendously.
Everyone on the team had been incredibly welcoming to you, all except Ghost. He'd been standoffish since you'd arrived, only giving you a nod when you'd introduced yourself. You had originally just chalked it up to him being weary if he could trust you. Which you more than understood, so while you kept your distance, you still made it a point to be nice to him.
He was always very curt and professional, never letting you hold a conversation with him, but that did not stop you from trying.
You'd always offer to help with various tasks, picked up coffee for him just the way he liked, and on multiple occasions had tried striking up conversations with him, to no avail.
One night, you'd decided you were going to try and talk with him. You weren't used to someone being so standoffish toward you, and wanted to know what you could've done wrong.
Making your way into the weapons rooms, you popped your head in to address your superior.
"Lieutenant?" You approached him with a wide smile.
He regarded you with clear disinterest and mumbled out a "What is it, Sargeant."
"I just wanted to check in with you, sir. I was wondering if perhaps.. I'd done something wrong?" Your hands started to grow sweaty, and you nervously rubbed them on your thighs.
He turned back to his weapon. "Wrong?"
"You just.. seem to not like me, and I'm not sure what I could've done to offend you."
"Like you? It's not my job to like you, and this isn't the place for annoying shit such as friendships. If that's what you're looking for, perhaps you should've looked to do any other field than this one, Y/N." Ghost sputtered, his eyes narrowing at you as he slammed his gun down in frustration.
Your mouth parted slightly, shock washing over you at his words. You knew he was a tough shell to crack, but you'd never thought he'd be so outwardly mean.
"Of course, sir. Sorry to bother you." You muttered meekly, turning to walk to the door. You blinked away tears, and aggressively wiped them from your eyes, not wanting anyone to see you cry.
~
For the next few days, you'd been rather quiet and kept to yourself. The boys would constantly come up and ask you to join them at the pub or for spar sessions, but you'd always politely decline.
Ghosts words had sunk deep, creating a wound you weren't sure how to heal. Were you really that annoying? Did everyone on base feel that way about you? The words ate and ate at you, and you'd ultimately decided to keep to yourself so as not to bother anyone around you. Perhaps Ghost was right. You weren't here to make friends.
The boys grew concerned, your normally bubbly attitude was gone, and they were lucky if they could even get a few words out of you.
"Anybody know what's going on with Y/N? They have been unusually quiet lately, and I'm worried about them." Soap had asked, sitting down to eat with Gaz and Ghost.
"I've tried talking to them a few times but can barely hold a conversation. You didn't hear it from me, but it was rumored that they left the weapons room crying Friday night." Gaz spoke, a sad smile forming on his lips.
Ghosts ears perked up at this information. You were with him in the weapons room Friday night. You left crying? Why would you have left- Oh. A wave of guilt came washing over him as he realized what had you so upset.
He truly didn't mean to make you upset. He was so used to keeping himself protected. He was afraid to let anyone else in. Then you came in with your bubbly attitude, and regardless of how much he tried to push you away, you still showed interest in him. He was so scared to open himself up to you, this ray of sunshine, and get himself hurt. He couldn't take more hurt in his life.
Shaking his head of his thoughts, he went to go and find you.
~
You were sitting in the courtyard watching the night sky. Your mind was racing with negative thoughts that you couldn't seem to push away. Deciding to turn in early for the night, you moved to stand when you heard a voice call your name. You turned around and were met face to face with Ghost.
"Oh, Lieutenant. Didn't know you were out here. Don't mind me, I was just leaving." You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and made for the entrance.
"Wait." Ghosts voice halted your movements. "I uh, I wanted to talk."
You turned to him, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, and nodded your head slowly.
Ghost looked to the ground for a moment before speaking. "I'm.. not exactly a guy known for extending warm welcomes."
You swallowed thickly, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.
"It's alright, sir. I understand." You said softly.
Ghost lifted his eyes from the grass to meet your warm ones. He felt his heart palpitate from the way you were looking at him. You'd looked so innocent to him.
"No. It's not. I don't give my trust out easily, not to anyone. But that's no excuse to treat you as I did." You could tell Simon was doing his best to apologize, in his own way.
"We all have our demons, sir. I can't fault you for protecting yourself and the team. But I assure you I have nothing but good intentions." You assured him, not breaking eye contact.
"I know." He nodded, his eyes shifting back to the ground beneath him. There was something about the way you looked at him. It made him feel things he'd never felt before. You were such a warm person, and he didn't know how to take you.
"Well, if that's all, I'll leave you to your night, Ghost." You turned to make your way out again, stopping when you heard him speak once more.
"Simon."
"Sorry?"
"My name, it's Simon." He lifted his eyes to yours, and held your gaze.
Your eyes lit up from the small bit of information he'd given you. It wasn't much, but it was a sign he was willing to try opening up to you.
"It's nice to meet you, Simon." You giggled, a vibrant smile covering your face.
He nodded, thankful his mask was covering the light pink tint that was forming on his cheeks.
"Theres... there's a coffee shop up the road. Usually, go to it every now and then. Good coffee there." He fumbled out, heart stammering in his chest. "Be my treat. It's the least I can do for being an arse."
"I would love that, Simon." You were practically beaming. You couldn't stop saying his name, and he sure wasn't complaining. He quite liked the way it sounded coming from your lips.
He held out his arm to you, and you gladly linked your arm in his. "Shall we?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Wasn't too proud of this one, tbh I rewrote it quite a few times.
Was kind of thinking of making this a 2 parter?
#cod imagine#simon riley imagine#mw2 imagine#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#mw2 x reader#simon riley angst#ghost imagine#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 .ೃ࿐
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: being in a secret relationship with lando norris has been a journey in itself. but nothing comes harder than the moments where you both struggle to keep your hands off one another.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before your tap it lol), cumming inside, voyeurism, fingering, slight handjob, boyfriend established but secret, cute cringe couple humour, obvious pining, poor knowledge of pr specialist things, mentions of mental health and stress, mclaren in itself needs a warning, mention of fave menace w*ll b*xton (simply ew), allusion of future marriage
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x mclaren’s pr specialist!fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+
𝐀/𝐍: this is based of taylor swift’s ‘dress’! okay, so i’m giving you lovelies this one and some others while i study for my last exam 😔 i actually have some requests which are exciting and nerve wrecking but i'm gonna try my level best to do them after my exam. although i’m also supposed be on a plane not too soon after. anyways, thank you so much for your support and patience ♡︎
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆
As a PR specialist, things were constantly changing. For example, for a certain amount of time you were assigned to Fernando Alonso when he was under McLaren. Quite honestly, it was a nightmare.
There was nothing wrong with Fernando. For the time you had spent with him, he was rather sweet. But the media had painted him out as some sort of tyrant of McLaren, claiming that the F1 team belonged to him as opposed to being owned by Zak Brown. Then again, you supposed the Spaniard’s lack of care for listening didn’t help either.
When learning that Fernando was leaving, you could only hope that whoever you were assigned to next was less work than him.
In came Lando Norris, a young driver with ambition and humour, and lucky for you, little work.
Somehow he just knew the right things to say. And if he didn’t, he was always asking you beforehand.
Between the both of you there was only a two year age gap so of course it was easy to befriend each other. You were always talking about something to the other.
His passion for DJing, his childhood or your love for travelling and the gossip of certain celebrities. How you were absolutely certain JLo and Ben Affleck was a PR couple because who on earth had a nude portrait of themselves above their bed?
It wasn’t until almost a year ago where you realised you liked him more than just a friend. There was just something about the way you two communicated that left in trailed sighs, awkward laughs desperate to talk more and grins that got your hearts pacing.
Or perhaps it was the way you had poured your hearts out to one another. As happy as Lando looked, he was one under a lot of pressure which affected is mental health. You were there for all of this ups and downs. You were his number on speed dial for everything.
And when things got a little too much for you, Lando did his best to not only be there for you but to cheer you up. Stupid jokes, random flowers and, teddy bears.
How were you not supposed to like him?
Surprisingly, Lando had been the one to confess his feelings to you. Well, only after one of the engineers from Mercedes was openly trying to court you at an F1 dinner.
Lando had gotten so jealous that he had pulled you aside that evening and begged you to not think of anyone else but him. That you were only supposed to smile like that at him… with him.
At first, you were thrilled and kind of shocked that Lando felt the same way. But that happiness and smile he liked so much quickly faded when you thought about your job.
‘F1’s Lando Norris is dating his PR specialist’…
Yeah… the implications of that sounded terrible. You could imagine it already. What was Lando hiding to date his publicist? Is Lando that good of a person?
And while you and all the people knew the truth, those types of rumours would’ve undermined your job in the first place and honestly, you were sure that McLaren wouldn’t exactly be jumping with excitement that you two were dating.
So you mentioned this to Lando with the suggestion of being secret about your relationship for now.
You could literally see some of the shine in his eyes fade. He was gutted but he understood what you meant. He’d rather be with you secretly than not at all and without his best friend.
our secret moments in a crowded room
they've got no idea about me and you
there is an indentation in the shape of you
made your mark on me, a golden tattoo
Your relationship with him had been a roller coaster. Neither of you had been in a secret relationship and neither of you could deny how fun it was.
Take right now for example. Today was the McLaren’s car launch for the 2023 F1 season. The room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people: journalists, publicists, engineers, marketers, social media managers, the new driver next to Lando, Oscar.
Yet with all those people, Lando and you found it impossible to not find each other. You were constantly meeting each others eyes, especially when you were nearby for his interviews.
There was a thrill, you must admit, about no one knowing about the two of you.
A rush of adrenaline at the thought that no one knew nor expected you to be in Lando’s bedroom this very morning before the launch.
“Remember to be sort of vague about the car and, well, everything. I mean obviously but I don’t think Will’s going down without a fight,” you reminded your boyfriend with an annoyed sigh.
Will Buxton was not only a F1 journalist but a man who got under everyone’s skin. You couldn’t fathom why people liked him in the first place.
Lando, who was leaning on his elbow on his bed, gave a hum of response. He only had half of his mind present as he watched you get ready. “Surely, this can’t be fair,’ He asked.
You raised a brow at him through the mirror. “What?” You queried before putting on a necklace. Sorry, attempting to. You weren’t exactly sure why the clasps of necklaces were made so poorly.
Lando got up from the bed and walked up behind you. He grabbed the necklace from your hands with an amused expression before bringing it to your neck. With one hand, he pushed your hair to the side and joined the clasp to the metal ring. He rested his fingers on the back of your neck, slowly rubbing the area as he met your gaze in the mirror.
“I mean, you get to wear this,” Lando started. His hands ran over the satin silk material of your black dress. It was fairly casual, landing mid-thigh. Perfect enough for you to blend into the crowd. Although, it didn’t matter for Lando. He could always pick you from the crowd. Especially, if you were wearing this. “And I wear this? It doesn’t seem fair,” he whispered into your ear.
You let out a small laugh, eyeing his new uniform for the season. You turned to face him, rubbing your hands over his chest and pretending to dust it. “I think you look quite good, love.”
Lando narrowed his eyes. You felt his hand travel up your neck and to your lips. “When did you even buy this? It wasn’t even in your closet?”
Your heart started to pace when you caught that knowing glint in his eyes. His mended brows seemed to ease when you didn’t respond. Sometimes you didn’t need to open your mouth to say anything. Instead, you let your eyes talk.
A small grin came to his face. He turned you to face the mirror. His hands came alive, roaming your thigh and waist. “Just for me, huh?” Lando smiled.
“Lando,” you warned weakly. You had a feeling where this was going. Honestly, you weren’t opposed to it. But the both of you needed to clock in soon. “It’s supposed to come off after the launch.”
Lando pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and meeting your gaze. “Oh, it supposed to come off too? Jesus, I don’t think I can’t wait that long.”
Lando could feel the perfume he has come to love so much infiltrate his nose. God, this dress and now the perfume. How on earth was he going to get out of here?
“Fuck,” He murmured out. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder. He needed to get himself together. But the thing about your skin was that it was so inviting… so warm.
You felt his his arms wrap around your waist as you added some finishing touches to your look. Lando pouted at you through the mirror.
“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed, squishing his cheeks with your free hand.
“I don’t think I can leave this room. I can’t,” Lando groaned, starting a line of kisses on your neck.
“Lando…” You whimpered out pathetically, feeling your neck stretch out even more willingly. You could feel him close in on the one area near your ear.
“Fuck, Lando. Not there,” You swore but with no effort to stop him.
Lando’s greed seem to increase upon your exclaim. He furthered his attack on the spot, sucking enough of your intoxicating skin, not only to get his full but leave a fresh purple mark.
Now he was satisfied enough to leave the room.
You watched his lips leave your skin, almost leaving you to pour for a second before that dark spot on your skin caught your eyes.
You gasped. “You didn’t,” you said in disbelief, whacking your boyfriend.
Lando’s blues twinkled at you as he planted a cheeky kiss to your cheek. “I did.”
Now you were in a room of all these people. It was exhilarating for Lando to know that he had given you a tattoo of some sorts. To attend those interviews and know that behind your carefully placed hair, he had given you something no one else would ever… yeah, he was aching to leave.
It wasn’t any less for you. Even last night you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were walking around with the fact that you knew what was underneath the damn racing gear. The scratches and indentations of your hands on his skin caused by the will to bring Lando even closer to you.
all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation
my hands are shaking from holding back from you… ha, ah, ah
all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
my hands are shaking from all this… ah, ha, ha, ha
Lando was looking at you probably more than one should look at their PR specialist to the point he was sure you could feel his eyes on you.
But he couldn't help. Every little thing you did in that dress had caught his attention.
Your pinky-red painted lips covering the champagne glass you held. Those lips he wanted for himself. On him. Everywhere. Now.
The occasional brush of your hands that sent shudders he had to surpress.
The lights of the venue practically spotlighting you so everyone could see how beautiful you looked. So Lando could see exactly how nicely the dress clung to everyone of those damning curves.
The polite smiles you offered every single person you met. A gesture that sent his heart racing.
The forced polite laughter and chuckles you gave to the people that flirted with you. A gesture that made him both proud and frustrated. Proud in that you were clearly faking it because he knew what your real smile and laugh was. Hell, he had the pleasure of making it everyday. And that people clearly found you as beautiful as he did. Frustrated because people were clearly into you and he could do nothing but watch in silence.
Lando couldn't blame them either. If he was them, he too would've stopped to impress. But he didn't need to. Not when you were his entirely and he yours.
The more he looked at you the more his hands shook and his patience wore thin. His hands ached for this day to end, for him to take you to his room, and remove that goddamn dress.
He could imagine what his former teammates Carlos and Daniel say. Something along the lines of "stop staring at her like you want to eat her".
Which, in all honestly, wasn't true.
Lando didn't want to eat you. He wanted to devour you. Slowly and gently. He wanted to appreciate you... all of you. So much that only his name was falling from those beautiful lips of yours.
say my name and everything just stops
i don't want you like a best friend
only bought this dress so you could take it off
take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah
carve your name into my bedpost
'cause i don't want you like a best friend
only bought this dress so you could take it off
take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah
Lando couldn't imagine the poor luck he had. The event was finally over and he was home. Without you.
You had become slightly tied with some last minute discussions with the reporters and journalists, even your dear favourite Will.
Which meant for the past hour, Lando had nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that consisted only of you, that dress, and what he was going to do with you.
What was he supposed to do?
Unbothered to put on a new change of clothes, Lando was in bed only in his boxers which had a very obvious bulge.
Lando let out a sigh, his hand brushing over his clothed cock. "Fuck," he muttered out through a clenched jaw. If it was any other day, he would've lost all self-control and jerked off to his thoughts of you. But you were going to be home soon and he desperately wanted to feel you.
"Lando? Honey, I'm home!" Your voice echoed through his house, teasing him.
Lando whipped his head up, feeling all his thoughts and emotions briefly stop as he darted towards the entrance.
You were taking of your heels when you saw Lando stand in all his glory almost naked. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Oh my... I thought we discussed you not walking around the house naked, Lando."
Lando said nothing. Instead, he took a step towards, eyes searching your face and arms encircling your body closer to him.
The hairs on your body stood straight while goosebumps started to sprawl across your skin. Lando's thumb brushed across your bottom lip. "You were later than expected," He said in a tone that almost neared a whine.
You let out a sigh, kissing the tip of his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."
Lando grinned. "It's okay," He quipped before scooping you up in his arms.
You let out a yelp before smiling as Lando ventured to your bedroom. You could soon feel the soft sheets of your bed touch your skin while Lando hovered over you.
"You have to tell me what the deal with this dress is, love," Lando whispered. His finger slid under the strap of your dress before trailing all the way down to your bare breast.
You opened your mouth to answer but not even a hint of a sound came out as Lando's finger circled your nipple gently. You met his eager blue eyes, waiting for answer.
"I only bought this dress so you can take it off. Simple as that."
Lando let out a low exhale, feeling his cock harden even further. God, were you even real?
"Yeah?" He hummed, pushing the straps of your dress down your arms. He pushed his face down lower, wrapping his lips around your nipple as he continued to pull your dress down your body.
Your back arched on the bed, pushing yourself into his mouth even further. Without a word, you lifted your hips up and Lando had fully taken the dress off.
His other hand reached your other nipple, paying it an equal amount of attention. He rolled the pebbled mound between his thumb and index finger, giving it a slight squeeze.
You let out a small whimper. Your hand navigating through his short curls. You could feel your core tighten and your pussy become slick with your arousal.
Lando unlatched his lips from your breasts, using both hands to gently thumb your nipples. "Tell me want you want, love. I want to hear it from these pretty lips."
God... you couldn't even decide. "I don't know. I want your lips. Your fingers. Fuck, I want it all."
Lando couldn't help but grin as a he felt a surge of energy rush through. "I can do it all," He chuckled before bringing his lips to yours. His tongue darted between your lips and into your mouth. His hands trailed up and down your waist while a muffled moan came out of his mouth.
You kissed him back with the same intensity of fervor, bringing your hands around his neck, willing him closer to you.
Lando could tell by the slight squirm of your legs, you were getting impatient down there. Slowly, he trailed down your waist and reached your panties. His own lips quirked at the damp material. Pressing his fingers into your core, he could feel a shudder overcome you.
Lando continued his assault on your lips as he rubbed you through your panties.
You removed your lips in a gasp for air. "Don't tease, Lando," You moaned out, clenching your thighs so it trapped his hand to your pussy.
Lando chuckled. He used his free hand to brush over your swollen lips. God, he wanted those lips around his cock. Maybe tomorrow morning. Or maybe in the shower tonight. Right now, he wanted to focus on you. "Say please. A good girl should always use her manners, no?"
This good girl thing had always infuriated you. It felt childish. But then it paled in comparison to the tingling and blossoming sensation of Lando's fingers rubbing your clit.
But of course, if you were going to be a good girl, you were always going for extra credit.
"Please, Lando. Fuck. I need your fingers. Please. I love the way they fill me up. The way they feel in me. Please."
Lando wanted to grin. But all he could do was groan in response. How could he not reward his dear overachiever?
His fingers pulled down your panties, snatching down the damp material past your legs. A guttural sound of pure sin fell from his mouth as he saw your pussy. It glistened in front of him, almost as if it was flooded. Sliding his fingers down those soaked folds, he watched you writhe under him and whimper.
Lando kept his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers into you slowly. He could feel your core envelope him and welcome him graciously. He watched your back arch once he began thrusting into a pace, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.
"Shit," you moaned, reaching for your breasts to both add even more pleasure and bring some sort of sanity. "Faster, baby. Please."
Lando sped up the pace of his fingers, bringing his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes flickered to your pussy. He licked his lips. You were swollen and engorged. Your puffy lips continuously took him in and it was almost paining his cock that he wasn't inside you yet.
A new intense wave of euphoria settled over you. Your body convulsed with a buzz that provided the almost silent moans from your mouth. "Fuck.... I... I'm gonna come," You moaned out, head falling back as your mind became clouded with pleasure.
Lando's cock throbbed from not being touched. He could do it no longer.
The whine you released when Lando took his fingers out of you almost made him want to put them back in. But instead, with a speed he had never even found in his car, he took off his boxers and hovered over your body.
"I know. I know," Lando murmured, pressing his lips into yours to silence your begging plea.
You placed your own fingers in your mouth, drenching them in your saliva. Removing them, your hand travelled down his waist, brushing past his v-line before circling your hand around his cock. You could feel Lando moan into the kiss, briefly stilling at your touch.
Slowly you rubbed him up and down, dangerously thumbing the slit of his cock. You watched as your saliva lubed him, giving him a unique shine. Your shine.
"Jesus fucking christ," Lando moaned out. He was sure if you kept up like this, he was going to cum in your hands rather than inside you.
"Fuck, as much I love your hands and touch. I need to be in you, baby," Lando sighed, removing your hand from his cock and slowly pressing into your body to slide his cock up and down your pussy.
You moaned at his words, feeling his lips wrap around your nipple once again.
"Stop teasing," You panted. The buzz created by the tip of his cock rubbing your clit was almost paining and torturous.
Lando didn't even mean to tease. But even just feeling your pussy felt like a different type of high. He groaned, pushing the tip of his cock into your swollen lips. A rush of warmth surged through him as he laid in you for a brief moment.
Your pussy was a safe haven. A cocoon made for his cock. This high... this pleasure... he could feel it with no one than you.
You sobbed in ecstasy. Lando was almost bring cruel. You raised your hips, fucking yourself onto your cock.
Lando had to keep himself above you, almost collapsing at your action. He let out a small laugh at your impatience before he started to move in you.
As he thrusted into you, you could feel his cock glide through your folds, reaching those familiar areas of arousal. You clenched your walls around him teasingly, silently urging him to speed.
"Fucking hell," Lando hissed out, speeding up the movement of your hips.
Sweat and arousal doused the both of you as the room was full of your pants and the obscene sound of your skin slapping.
"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," Lando said once you clenched around him once again. This clenching action always drove him overboard. It pulled him in even further into you and pressured his cock to pulse inside of you.
"It's okay. Cum with me," You moaned, bringing him into a sloppy kiss.
Your muffled moans became impossibly higher as Lando rutted into you at a merciless speed. The wave of pleasure and euphoria that had sprawled across the both of you was inexplicable. A transient unearthly state of mind. A paradox of what was holy and unholy.
Your hands had found their way to Lando's back. Your fingernails dug lightly into the smooth skin of his back. You dragged them down as your hips bucked higher in the chase of the climax.
"Fuck! Lando!" You cursed.
Lando could feel his cock twitch and throb inside you. The nails. His name. Your lips. It was any second now. "Fuck. Say my name, Y/N!"
'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless. 'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless.
"Lando!" You moaned, "I love you so much, Lando! Fuck!"
Your loud groans disturbed the quiet peace of the air as Lando and you felt the wave of euphoria hit you hard, his hips stilled within you. His body shook, warming your walls and folds with an influx of white.
Lando let out a soft moan, chin falling into your shoulder while both your sweaty bodies pressed together. You could still feel Lando's cock within you, giving every last dribble of cum to you.
"I love you, I love you, I love you.," Lando's hoarse voiced mantra made it's way into your ear. He planted a lazy kiss onto your shoulder before turning his body to face the ceiling. "Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N."
You turned on the side of your body, leaning on your hand. Your eyes were weighed with exhaustion but nevertheless you smiled at him. "I guess I should buy more dresses often," You joked.
You could feel Lando's body rumble with a gentle chuckle. His hand reached to move your sweat-ridden hair behind your ears. His blue eyes trailed over your face, in awe of how he had gotten this lucky in his life. The woman he loved so much was right next to him and he hoped forever.
Lando smiled at you, bringing your fingers to kiss them. He briefly thought backed to the small box he had managed to hide away in his closet. Three podiums. He was going to get three podiums and make sure that ring adorned your finger.
"Love, I'll buy all the dresses you want. And I'll take them off for you too."
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
#f1 x reader#mickyschumacher#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris#formula 1
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
“In light of everything that’s happened in the past three months alone, here’s some incredibly valid reasons to be pissed off at Taylor Swift, or simply not like her — as someone who loved her, and loved her music. First and foremost, Taylor Swift is personally burning a hole through the ozone with the amount of CO2 she uses. That’s not even the main point of this video; but this is a graph from 2022 of how much CO2 she produced of her 170 private jet flights, versus the average person. She has spent 70 grand on jet fuel alone. Taylor Swift, alone has used 170 tons of CO2 in the past 3 months. The average person only burns like, 16 tons. That’s not even the main part of this video. The main point of the video is the fact that she has not spoken up about Palestine. And the reason that is so fundamentally frustrating is that Taylor Swift has influence. Quote Brittany Broski, when she also didn’t speak up about Palestine — “if you have a platform, and you have people listening, you have to use it.” It’s criminal to not use it, and Taylor Swift uses it. This is from September 2023. Record-breaking registration numbers from one Instagram post. Literally stating, saying “I’ve been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my US shows recently. I’ve heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are. Make sure you’re ready to use them in our elections this year!” They had a 72(%) increase in 18-year-old registrations. When it comes to Palestine, she’s completely silent. And now that it’s somewhat more socially acceptable to attend Pro-Palestine events, she’s been quietly going with Selena Gomez, but I for one, think that your Instagram is perhaps the best asset you have. If not, money. And I’m sure in a couple months, we’ll learn about how Taylor Swift was quietly setting up foundations for pro-Palestine, and that she was always for the cause and she’s always supported them, but all it takes is one fucking Instagram post. Especially when Israel Palestine is fundamentally a war of narratives. It’s whose story do you believe, despite the mounting evidence that proves that Israel has continuously been doing ethnic cleansing and genocide. They are still maintaining this narrative that they are not doing that. And all Taylor Swift has to do is say “hey, 22 thousand deaths in 3 months? The most in any modern war? This doesn’t seem right.” I don’t even want her to be that leftist or radical, but literally just to ask the question to her largely American audience, when US has bypassed Congress twice to sell millions in arms aid to Israel. Just for her to be like “Should that many kids be dying, perhaps?” The bar is on the floor, but she still refuses to do it. And the reason why Taylor Swift in particular, not because of the influence that she has and not because of the platform that she has, but why her in particular, is because the IDF continues to use her songs. I know it was a public trend, but the fact that so many occupation forces felt comfortable and confident to make like, dance edits to Taylor Swift’s music. I think it’s so important how an artist’s music is used because when the republicans wanted to use Eminem’s 8 mile track, he was like “absolutely fucking not, I do not give you consent to do that, and I do not associate with your politics. Don’t do that.” I feel like she should know that her music is being used as the anthem of the occupation forces as they go and bomb civilians. Her, and other artists like her, like Beyonce, who showed her film in Israel, and they’re all like dancing and singing, and saying “you’re not going to break my soul”, whilst they continue to bomb the shit out of civilians have said nothing. And I hope, as I’ve demonstrated in the video, for the people who are going to be like “What’s Taylor swift going to do? She’s not a politician.” Be serious. Be serious. She has a fucking chokehold on at least a billion people. She could’ve said and done way more than what she’s done, and also the CO2 levels." (from: this tiktok*)
* i tried to transcribe the tiktok since tiktok wasn't showing the captions for me but if i misheard anything please let me know!
#post: music#m: taylor swift#( i'm pretty sure i misheard a word or two but i listened like three times and tried to get this as accurate as i could )#( also her going to a pro-palestine event with selena gomez after selena's ... stuff ... to support a mutual friend ... was interesting ...#ts critical#taylor swift critical#ts criticism#anti taylor swift#(??????)
976 notes
·
View notes
Text
you are just too good : ̗̀➛
SUGURU GETO x f!reader
contents. smut, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dacryphilia, size kink (?) i guess, pervy!geto, dubcon, geto insults the reader a lil bit
wc. 4.5k
summary. after avoiding geto for so long to try and suppress your love for him, he uses your feelings to his advantage.
For the past few weeks, you had been avoiding your emotions by ghosting the man that you had feelings for. Even if you really didn’t want to admit it, you had the biggest crush on one of your classmates, Suguru— A friend you had made through a mutual friend, Gojo. And despite knowing him for perhaps just over a year, your feelings had been as strong as ever. You weren’t sure how long you liked him for, but you knew that it must have been long enough.
However, recently, you had started to notice the way he spoke to other girls- the way he flirted with other women. It was then that you realised that you really were just the average person, while he was Suguru Geto- Strongest sorcerer and even more popular with the ladies than Satoru Gojo himself.
It made you sick seeing him float around girls that weren’t you, so you had made the conscious decision to pull yourself away now before you could get hurt even further.
Consequently, Geto seemed to take notice of how you had been avoiding him, and it pissed him off more than you realised. He had asked both Gojo and Shoko about your whereabouts, questioning why you never seemed to hang around them anymore, though it seemed that Shoko was just as lost in the dark as he was. It wasn’t until that Satoru had finally let slip accidentally that you must’ve been avoiding him because of your feelings towards him— Something that you had confided in him on the basis of deep trust. Gojo admittedly felt a little guilty for betraying his vow not to tell anyone like that, but Suguru could be unfortunately persuasive with his words.
Geto eventually made his way to your dormitory to find you since he was never able to catch you around the school; he finally got sick of all of the missed calls and took matters into his own hands— Letting himself into your room using a small curse to pick open the lock so he could invite himself in without you even needing to open the door. It was bad enough that he had even broken into your dorm, but the fact that he could so shamelessly use his cursed technique like that to break in at night.
What if you had been changing?
Or showering?
Or even asleep?
He supposed he was lucky to see you standing in your room doing none of those things, your eyes instead widening with surprise when your stare locked onto the man stood by the entrance of your bedroom. His eyes were dark with irritation, and it perfectly matched the way the rest of him was presented- Hair dishevelled as the stress reached those dark strands, wondering how long it had been since he had seen your face.
“Satoru already told me about what you’ve been hiding.” He stated darkly, slowly making his way into the room. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you’re in love with me?”
There weren’t any words that escaped your lips, which only seemed to frustrate the dark-haired man more, and in your nervousness, he had backed you into your bed, pinning himself on top of you as he stared into your eyes with a cold expression.
“If you had feelings for me, you wouldn’t be ghosting me like this.” He reiterated sternly.
You couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat when he had pinned you down so strongly. Your face had immediately flushed and it became difficult to properly look him in the eye.
“Th-That’s not it!” You stammered out in a strained manner.
“Oh really? Then tell me what it is then.” He scoffed, pressing himself closer to you. “Because you’ve been running from me like I’m some kind of monster when all I’ve ever done is care about you.”
His gaze was intense, and it was making you uncomfortable. You felt a burning sensation in your cheeks as he looked down at you, despite doing your best to ignore it.
“I-I wasn’t—” You gulped. “I wasn’t trying to ghost you!”
But that was a lie. It had been obvious. You knew as well as Geto did that it was clear that you had been avoiding him after all that time. The fact that you were lying just made it worse.
“Really?” He said with a mean glare, his dark tones echoing against your ears. “Then why were you hiding from me?” He asked slowly, placing one hand behind your neck and leaning in to whisper his next reply close to your ear. “Why would you run from a friend? Someone who cares about you?”
He could feel your heartbeat racing, the scent of your perfume filling his lungs as he spoke. He didn’t even seem interested in how he was pressing himself against you so harshly, clamping you down like you had even been eager to get away.
"You weren't trying to ghost me, but you did." Suguru stated down at you, but not like how he usually would; It was filled with more annoyance than his usual teasing, the kind of glare you only saw when he fought curses. "You've been ignoring my texts and not answering most of the calls, so don't lie to me and say you weren't doing it. …Besides, all this running away means is that you just really wanted me to chase you."
“Why are you—“ Your voice grew meek when you realised that his face was leaning closer, getting way too comfortable in the current position. You felt like you couldn’t sputter out the words if you tried.
The expression of displeasure grew wider on his complexion; He looked somewhat angry at himself more than he was at you for some reason, and you did your best to look away from him so you wouldn’t feel his breath on your face.
"It's okay," He said, looking down at you in a way that made you feel more flustered, his voice husky and threatening. "Just admit that you have feelings for me, and we can forget all about how you were avoiding me."
Instead of pulling back, he only leaned closer to you. You felt his words touch your skin, as if his breath itself was tickling you, and his hand pressed harder against you, bringing you closer to him until there was no space between your bodies. His hand moved from beneath to you slink up to your wrists, clamping them down into place so that both of his palms were clasped tightly against your arms.
“Do you realise you only hurt yourself when you do things like this?” Geto’s brows furrowed with annoyance as his hands dug deeper into the bedsheets. “Trying to avoid me because you’re scared— What were you thinking?”
“That’s not fair—!” You yelled out, your heart beating dangerously fast now. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I was just putting space between us!”
“Is that not the definition of avoiding?”
“You’re one to talk, Geto! You’re full of shit talking about how you ‘care’ about me. We only became friends because of Satoru! Don’t act like I had any kind of important role in your life!” You spat back, to which he only responded with an eyebrow raise.
“Oh? We’re going back to last-name basis now?” He uttered in an unimpressed tone. “How very immature of you, (Y/n). You shouldn’t talk that way about the man you love.”
Your cheeks burned with both frustration and blush- it was like all of the blood had rushed to your face and you couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or if it was because he had never been this close to you before. He was trying to provoke you, that’s for certain. There wasn’t really much else to it.
“You asshole! Arrogant, little—“ You felt your hands ball into fists against the covers. “You’re just trying to get me to confess my feelings to absolve you of any blame!”
“And so what if I am?” His expression went cold. “Am I wrong in thinking you do feel that way about me?”
“Why does that matter anyway? Satoru’s already told me about how popular you are with the girls! Stupid of me to think I had any sort of chance— Or that there was any sort of possibility that you’d be mature about this!” You blinked back your tears of frustration as you went to lift your arms, but his hands quickly moved to push your wrists back down against the bed even more securely.
“You say you don’t have a chance, yet you’re under me right now, aren’t you?”
“You just want to prove that you’re stronger than me; acting like you can get your way just by showing you can pin me down.” You let out a scoff.
“But for what other reasons could I girl have for getting pinned down by me?” He said lowly, his legs slowly pressing even harder against yours as he leaned closer towards the mattress. “You don’t want me?”
“Idiot!” Beads of sweat began to accumulate on the sides of your face as your breathing sped up. “This is just you sleeping around again. —I don’t want to just be one of the girls you use and throw to the side once you’re done! Don’t you think I have any self respect?” The rage burned in your throat.
His expression didn’t change much; his face was as stern as ever. His grip around your arms tightened as the small bit of light in his eyes began to fade. He looked as if he was furious that you would even imply such a statement, and it made you cringe as he held you in place with his strength. The words felt like a dagger to his heart; to think that you thought he was the type of person to just sleep around with any girl he picked up. The concept of him even wanting that type of lifestyle made his stomach churn with disgust.
"Is that what this whole thing was about?" His tone was biting, that kind of manner he put on when he was ready to get physical to the curses that overstepped a boundary. "You think I'm a pig? Just some guy who sleeps around with every girl he comes across? Putting my behaviour on par with Satoru’s— You really don’t understand, do you?” Geto let out in a backhanded way towards his best friend as he continued his moment of irritation. When his expression had darkened, a warning voice went off in your head, telling you that getting mad at him now would most likely just end with a bad outcome. "…Who's to say I would do that to you? You're different, we both know that. I do love you.” Geto uttered.
Your face, despite what it was hearing, refused to change. You tried to maintain that exasperated look in your eyes; you wanted to make it clear that you were still pissed off. But hearing him say that string of words to you made your heart flutter, and your brows furrowed as you refused to believe what you had been told. It seemed like he was trying to convince you now.
“If you loved me— Then why wouldn’t you just be with me? Instead you need to shamelessly flirt with other women right in front of me, completely disregarding my own feelings!” You snapped back, the hurt resurfacing as you recalled it all. “It’s no wonder why I was ghosting you. Why would I want to witness the person I loved try to get with other people?”
"Maybe if you weren't playing hard to get I could've shown you how much I love you, how much you mean to me." He hissed, glaring at you. There was an edge to his voice, and he was getting colder. His complexion grew frustrated, and you could see his jaw clench. "But I guess you’re right. I must be such a shameless flirt." He retorted sarcastically. "You know how I love to make you jealous, it's my specialty. But clearly you're too stupid to understand that… Maybe I do it to hurt you, because you never bothered to pay any attention to me until you saw me with other girls."
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Even if I tried to flirt with you, you’d shut me down. I would never get the same kind of response as the women you slept around with, so don’t try to convince me otherwise.” Your teeth gritted against each other, your voice much lower now. “If not me, then why everyone else? Is there something different about me that you can’t just accept?”
Suguru looked down at you with an intense stare, his face completely unwelcoming as he chose his next words wisely. His hands shifted up a little so his thumbs would brush against the palms of your hands as he leaned closer, his lips mere centimetres away from your ear.
"Maybe there is something different about you that I can't accept." He muttered in a low tone, his words travelling smoothly into your earlobe. His breath was so hot against that area that it was almost irritating how close he was, but at the same time you couldn’t help but expose more of your neck to him as he whispered in your ear. “You are just… Too good.”
Your eyes widened as the words hit your brain, and he lifted his lips away from your ear to turn your face back towards him. With his hands still against your skin, he gave you a cold-blooded cast.
“You’re too perfect to be tainted by what I have to offer. You’re so much nicer than the friends I usually have— So much more innocent than the sorcerers that surround me.” One of his hands loosened around your wrist to bring up to your chin instead, forcing you to keep looking at his frowning face. “You want to have yourself be ruined by being with me? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Your lips quivered as you tried to find the words, but before you could, he just continued speaking.
"I guess you do understand then. I tell myself don't need to spend all my time and energy on someone who doesn't want me the way I want them, but it’s difficult to get you off my mind." Suguru’s voice had a hint of whine to it, but it still maintained most of its husky components, sounding as though his pride was severely hurt.
"You are right there, there is something different about you. You're a pain in the ass, always going to be a headache for me." He gritted. “Do you want to know what that makes you right now?”
“I—“
"A toy." He growled, his breathing becoming shallow with his eyes narrowing. "Your constant playfulness and games have made me realise that all you're really good for is being a toy for others. You play with my feelings just to get a reaction out of me, and now here we are again… Do you still want to be played with?"
“That’s not what I said—“
"I never tried to break your heart, I only wanted to keep you safe, but it’s like you want me to treat you the way I treat everyone else. It's like you’re just asking to be tossed around." His voice was laced with fury, and it made your heart beat even faster. “You’re so frustratingly pure, and yet… Seeing you like this…” His face leaned closer to yours, his eyes have-lidded as he stared at your lips. “…It makes me want to take that perfection in you and defile it.”
There was something so gritty, so disgusting about Suguru’s words as he said them. You had always known that there was some kind of edge to him, but you had never seen that side of him so close, especially not this close. However, he seemed to mean every word he said, and the way his thumb brushed over your chin as he stared down at your quivering lips only further indicated his seriousness. You were trying not to let his words get to you, but it was proving difficult. You knew Suguru was always full of surprises, but this was something different. His eyes were so deadly and serious it was certainly scary, yet he also had a hint of amusement to it.
"Now, tell me," He said, still stroking your face, his finger brushing your lip, waiting for you to give him an answer, “can you still look me in the eyes and tell me that you still love me after everything I’ve said?” He asked in a much quieter tone than before now.
His thumb traced your jaw, and he looked at you with eager curiosity. It was clear he was giving you a chance to respond, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.
You felt like you were on the verge of tears— was it bad that you were sure that you still did? Were you wrong for having those same feelings that you did before?
"Answer." He demanded and his voice was filled with terrifying anger again.
“I…” You gulped, flinching a little. “I’m okay with it…”
Your reply didn’t seem to phase him, which was apparent from the way his eyebrows scrunched together. It almost looked as if he was going to reprimand you for a second, however he then pulled a soft expression, a small glint in his eyes when he did.
“…It’s a shame you’re having to be broken down this way… Love is ugly and two-faced. It isn’t always going to be about the butterflies in your stomach, but rather what being in love entails.” He muttered and then he leaned down, his lips almost touching yours as he looked into your eyes with the most desperate gaze. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Your attention had been completely focussed on his lips, when it really should have been focussed on his now-free hand as it travelled down your stomach, his fingers hooking against the waistband of your sweatpants.
Your breath hitched when you felt his knuckles press against your hips when his hands dipped into your pants. He hadn’t yet touched you further down than your waistline, but he was getting dangerously close to shifting your underwear out of the way.
“Wait, Suguru, what are you—“ You felt the oxygen escape your lips as you let out a short gasp, your wobbly hands trying to steady yourself on the bed.
“Are you getting scared now?” He glanced up into your eyes.
“No, I just don’t know if—“
“What's different about you is that I want more from you." His tone softened ever so slightly, and he brought his face closer to you. And again, your heart fluttered. "I can just look at you and know that you're the only one I want. Even if there’s a part of me that wants to protect you, there’s another part that will gladly ruin you if you’d let me.”
The other hand that was once pinning your wrists instead slinked down to hold your waist, leaving both of your wrists free— Though you kept them in the same place beside your head.
“Love means letting someone put something inside of you.” He told you, his erected crotch pressing against your thigh. The outline of his bulge was so prominent against the parts of your body that it touched, and you felt yourself wince a little when his lips got closer to your neck. “Will you let me do that, (Y/n)? Will you give yourself to me?”
His fingers suddenly slipped past the band of your underwear, and it made your heart instantly skip a beat. Your eyes widened and your hands snapped down to grab his wrists quickly, sputtering out in an anxious flurry,
“W-Wait—! I haven’t even shaved down there!” You nervously stammered, your face heating up with embarrassment; it’s not like you ever planned for this to happen.
“I don’t care, I’m grown.” He replied dully as his fingers finally slipped between your legs, forcing a quick gasp out of your lips as you felt his skin brushed against yours.
You shielded your moan by clasping a hand over his mouth, gazing at him with opened eyes as he pushed more of his hands into your panties to allow his fingers to squeeze past your gummy walls. His pupils were fixed between your legs in a look of concentration, his thumb working to massage your folds for a steady balance as he slowly penetrated your cunt with his middle and ring finger. He looked amused at how easy it was, chuckling shortly under his breath.
“So you did want me, huh? Feel how wet you are…” He commented slyly. “I was afraid you’d be way too tight, but if you’re this excited, maybe it wouldn’t be that much of a problem…” He grinned.
As his fingers entered deeper into you, you had instinctively tried to clamp your legs together, which was only met with the action of Geto pushing them apart again.
“Please relax, (Y/n). I’m only trying to prepare you for the real thing.” He whispered, leaning closer to you so he could proceed to kiss your neck, peppering wet kisses along your skin as he pumped his fingers into you repeatedly.
You had your eyes squeezed shut, your face not helping but to glow a dark shade of blush as he slowly dug his fingers knuckle-deep into your glistening pussy. The moment itself had been exhilarating, but it became even more of a fluttery mess when his thumb soon landed on your clit to give it a firm massage, rubbing deep circles against that soft spot.
Your mouth had formed the shape of an ‘O’ as soon as he had quickly found your sensitive clit. You had felt good before, but that action felt like it had suddenly sent quick jolts down your spine as your back arched, thighs threatening to shut again as all of the pleasure went to the bottom of your stomach.
“S-Suguru—!” You let out in a gasp, feeling his lips curve into a grin against your neck when you did.
“Do you even touch yourself, (Y/n)? You’re so fuckin’ tight I doubt anything’s even come close to this pussy.” He growled against your ear, licking the outer part of your earlobe so you could hear the wet daps of his tongue.
“I-I do…” You panted breathlessly, your chest heaving.
“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow, the one hand that was on your waist now circling round to press against the bit of skin just above your cunt a pressing it down very gently, letting the butterflies swirl even more violently around in your stomach as you were hit with a new wave of sensations that you welcomed with another strained moan. “Does it feel the same way when I do it?”
You shook your head, whispering softly as your nails dug into the bedsheets.
Removing his fingers from between your legs and placing the slick-coated digits into his mouth, he worked on untying the strings of his own sweatpants so that he could attend to his much-neglected cock.
He had gotten a huge ego-boost as he removed his hardened length from his boxers when he saw how that look of concern stretched into your eyes at how big he was. You hadn’t seen a man’s dick in person before, but surely that was above average, right?
Nevertheless, you took it all in like a good girl, loudly whining his name as he drove his entire length into you. Your legs were parted and he held down your thighs to keep them separated while he worked on leaving a selection of hickeys across the skin of your collarbone and neck. Saliva had remained from where he left those love marks, though you could hardly focus on that wet patches of skin when you felt his tip hit your g-spot at every single forceful thrust.
“Fuck— Fuck! S-Slow down, I can’t—!” You whined, your nails digging against his now-bare back, leaving bright-red scratches against the spine.
He had started off slow at first, not wanting to scare you out of anything, but after a few steady jolts at the hip, he had become a lot faster than he had intended to. He really couldn’t help it, but the feel of your virgin pussy was too much for him to resist, and he fucked into you like you were an object. The way he thrusted was desperate and shameless, and there were moments where he had to remember that he wasn’t masturbating against his sheets or something. His dick had been inside an actual person— And that person was you. He tried to resist speeding up or fucking into you even harder, but that resistance shifted whenever you made another adorable mewl of his name.
“Are you crying?” He asked in a low voice, slowing down to a significantly leisurely pace when he saw tears staining your blushed cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?”
You whimpered softly at the reduction in speed of his hips against yours, and you shook your head swiftly.
“N-No, I just cry sometimes when I feel—“ You gulped, not wanting to finish your sentence.
But Suguru already knew, and it looked like you had just offered him a goldmine of opportunity.
He continued indulging in his pitiful state of lust as soon as you said the words, but it was like it became even more rough the more that you moaned out his name with tears falling down your guilty face.
He backed his lips away from your neck to gaze down at you from above as he drilled into you, and he couldn’t help but smile. This was the sight he had always wanted to see— This was the view of you that flashed into his mind whenever he saw you carry out innocent tasks as he tried to force those perverted thoughts out of his mind.
He could appreciate it all now:
That view of your now-bare chest bouncing up and down as his cock pumped into you more violently. Your hands were desperately grabbing at your tits to squeeze them to focus your attention on something other than the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling down there. Your skin had been littered with hickeys and love bites, and your hair was askew and messy- Some strands had even fallen over your sweat-stained face, only gathering more droplets of salt from the tears that accumulated in the eyes that were squeezed shut.
Sure, Geto was only human, but he was a deranged one— A corrupt one, at that. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt that reflected in his soul as he fucked away your purity with every thrust. He had tried his best to keep you away from the darkness, only to have to pull you in when you got too close. Though he thought that if anyone were to change you, he wanted it to be him.
You were too good.
And fuck, it drove him insane.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#getou suguru smut#suguru geto#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader smut#geto x reader#suguru geto smut#satoru gojo#gojo satoru
831 notes
·
View notes
Text
⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction
🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader
TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences
WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read
WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk
AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!
PLAYLIST.
SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.
or alternatively :
Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?
Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.
How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?
As for yours, it’s fairly simple.
Where did we go wrong?
December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.
Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.
And so, you replaced it.
Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.
Until you met Seungmin.
He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.
But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.
Longing.
He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.
Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.
“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“
“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.
Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.
Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.
If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.
You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.
Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.
It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.
Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.
And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.
“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.
“I’m sorry.”
He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.
“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”
A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.
Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.
He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.
Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.
Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.
Guilty.
“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”
December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.
Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.
Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.
He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.
What you used to be.
Lovers.
Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.
But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.
What a lie.
Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.
Starting with a text.
He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.
Paris.
Paris?
Paris.
It hits him, evidently.
Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.
Months ago, he remembered.
You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.
It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.
Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.
What were the chances?
Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.
Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?
“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.
He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.
He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.
“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”
Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.
‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.
How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.
Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.
Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.
Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.
“.. What am I gonna do?”
“Suck it up, duh.”
“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”
The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.
"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"
“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.
Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?
Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.
Minho sighs.
"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."
For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.
From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.
But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.
What were the chances?
There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.
Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.
Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.
Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.
And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.
Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.
Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.
He looks up.
You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.
And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.
It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.
Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.
Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.
For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.
Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.
Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.
You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.
Perfect opposites, exactly.
Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.
Three little words.
I love you.
You lied.
Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.
Big words he didn’t return.
Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.
And you left.
You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.
Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?
Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.
You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.
Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.
He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.
That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.
But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.
In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.
And it fucking hurt remembering that.
December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.
The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.
Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.
The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.
Him.
“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.
Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.
“Do you remember the tickets?”
Hatred seemed the dominant factor.
“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.
Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?
He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”
It takes you a moment, then, aha.
How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.
”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”
Huh.
“WHAT?!”
You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.
Or so you thought.
You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.
You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.
And so, you dealt with it.
In ways.
Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.
A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.
Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.
And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.
Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.
You were wrong.
Not the first time that’s happened.
“Hi Hyunjin.”
Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.
Never had it felt so terrifying.
“Hey.”
You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.
“Are we…Are we doing this again?”
He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.
“I don’t know. You decide for me.”
Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.
Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.
But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.
“You know I can’t make big decisions.”
That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.
“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.
“Because I want better for us.”
“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.
“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”
There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.
You don’t want to think about that.
“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.
“Anything.”
“If I cry, will you hug me?”
“Do you want that?”
Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.
Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.
He knows the answer.
You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.
Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.
He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.
And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.
What a shame.
Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.
The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.
Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.
One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.
“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.
Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.
Cupid really needs to give up by now.
You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”
Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.
“…Who broke up with who?”
Asshole.
Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.
Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.
Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.
“No ginger ale?”
You wrinkle your nose.
“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.
“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.
The ex you were very much over.
Right.
Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.
So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.
You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.
Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.
Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.
Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.
Bullshit.
Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.
Let’s just hope you can land first.
December 23nd – Paris, France.
His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.
It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.
Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.
Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.
Guess you’ll just have to make due.
Lovely.
“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.
Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.
Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.
To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.
Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.
“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.
You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.
“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”
That’s it.
“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”
“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”
He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.
Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.
“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”
Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.
It makes you sick to your stomach.
You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”
Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.
You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.
For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.
Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.
You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.
“Fuck! Get out!”
Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.
Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.
“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”
“GET OUT!” You scream.
“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.
And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.
Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.
Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.
He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.
The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.
“C’mon, just one?”
You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.
It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.
Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.
“Fine, one.”
Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.
“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.
Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.
It hurts.
“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”
“What was that?”
The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.
“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.
Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.
A harsh slam that never happens.
You cautiously open an eye.
“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.
You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.
Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.
“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.
“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.
From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.
Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.
Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.
“Can I at least carry you?”
Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.
Insane. He’s officially gone insane.
So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.
Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.
“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.
You missed his laugh.
And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).
Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.
Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.
His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.
He’ll sleep on the floor.
December 24th – Paris, France.
Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).
This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.
You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.
Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.
Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.
Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.
Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.
He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.
“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”
With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.
Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.
A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.
He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.
What a coincidence.
You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.
Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.
“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.
Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.
This adjustment was his hair.
Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.
“You used to love it when I grew it out.”
He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.
“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”
This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.
Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.
“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”
There’s your breaking point.
He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.
Right. Across. The face.
He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.
“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.
You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.
“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.
“Listen.”
“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.
“Listen.”
You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.
He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.
“I love you.”
You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.
Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.
He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.
You want to hide.
Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.
Cruel.
“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”
He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.
“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”
It’s hypocritical, you know.
Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.
Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.
He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.
His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.
Guess some things never change.
Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.
And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.
Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.
Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.
Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.
“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.
He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.
Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.
“I really don’t want to lose you.”
And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.
Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.
You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.
But in love. So very in love.
For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.
This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.
“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”
Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.
In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.
Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.
Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.
Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.
And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.
Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.
And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.
No, you’re certain of it.
sunboki, may 2022 ©
FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff
#stray kids x reader#straykids x reader#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#straykids x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#hwang hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin angst#hwang hyunjin fluff#skz angst#straykids angst#stray kids angst#straykids fluff#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin angst#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x you
586 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE LOST LOVE
ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: two lovers who went seperate ways years ago… one of the cases we love most!
ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, age gap (reader was in college & toji in his thirties when they met), dad!toji, breakup, implied divorce, insecurities, smut, unprotected sex
bold italic quotes = letter excerpts
PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
“i like to think that meeting each other was like a breath of fresh air. for both of us. wouldn’t you agree?”
wake up. go to work. get home. eat. sleep. repeat.
toji’s life was a vicious cycle, one of a middle age man with no goals in life. it was funny to him how people would actually call that a life.
the only times he truly felt like he was alive was when he was seated on the bleachers watching a good old horse race. or a boat race. or whatever it was that he had bet money on.
no one understood him.
toji knew that life rarely gifted him anything. he was no lucky man. in the many years of betting and gambling, he seldomly won. and the money he had won those few times was enough to cover the ticket and perhaps a nice dinner.
and although knowing he was probably going to leave empty-handed, he did it for the thrill. it made him feel youthful again. like he hadn’t wasted his years on useless things that aged him faster than he had hoped to. like he was still the same old teenager he had been years ago.
it wasn’t until one fated day that he found out that there were other things that could bring him back to his youth, other than doing useless crap that only burned a hole in his pocket.
said thing being you.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
“the way we met wasn’t really romantic. it wasn’t like a scene out of a movie or a novel. looking back, it was quite comedic, even. i’m sure you felt the same way.”
there were a lot of terrible things that came with being a busy person, one of which you were facing right now. standing in front of a ridiculously long line at the grocery store.
you ran out of basic ingredients for cooking, it was a saturday evening, and you really did not want to order takeout again for a third time this week.
standing in front of you was a group of drunken kids — by kids you meant they were around your age, maybe in college like you — but they were different. they seemed carefree. they used their time to have fun and laugh instead of constantly grumping and punishing you with more work than you had.
you wished you could be like them, too. at least sometimes.
what made you get out of your train of thoughts was the sound of an item being placed on the conveyor belt, the rattling sounding too familiar for your liking. another person who hated cooking, so it seemed. and another person who barely had enough change to get a cup of instant noodles.
it was a man — you heard from the occasional sighs and grunts leaving his lips, and the way his cologne wafted over to invade your senses.
why did you suddenly have the urge to turn around and bond with this random stranger? perhaps hit him up with something like ‘heck, youngsters these days, right?’
absolutely not. that would be goofy as hell. and judging by how slowly the like progressed, you were likely going to stand here for at least ten more minutes. you would rather die than make a fool of yourself and then proceed to stand here for even longer afterwards.
oddly enough, the huffing stranger beat you to it. your breath hitched in your throat at the gruff voice sounding.
“s’cuse me, little lady.”
a bulky arm shot forward from behind you, making you step aside to grant him access to the side of the conveyor. you cleared your throat, turning around with an apologetic smile— and damn was he hot.
he looked quite a bit older than you, and he looked quite… distraught. sleepless, deep green eyes, unruly jet black hair that looked like he hadn’t gotten cut in a while, and a stubble gracing his jaw and chin.
you hated romanticizing people who weren’t feeling their best. so, you quickly snapped out of it.
“sorry for hogging the conveyor.” you chuckled, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere as everyone else in the line was quite angry. the man gave you a halfhearted smile, scar on the right side of his mouth stretching. you wondered how he’d gotten that scar.
“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he waved your apology off, slightly motioning at the impatient woman huffing and puffing behind him. “someone’s just very fuckin’ annoying.”
you couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. then, your eyes wandered to the conveyor, staring up to meet his again. “you can get in front of me, sir.” you offered kindly, already moving to make some space in front of you, “don’t have to wait even longer for a single item.”
the surprise in his eyes was a dead giveaway that no one had been polite or nice to him in a long time. before he could make it obvious, he shook his head, uttering, “s’fine. thanks.”
but you insisted, for some reason. it wasn’t until he was standing in front of you, cup of ramen placed in front of your groceries, and the seething woman now standing right behind you, that you were happily smiling.
the man walked off after paying for his noodles when the line finally progressed what felt like years later, not even sparing you a glance. you were barely able to contain your disappointment as you bagged your groceries and shuffled outside of the store, ready to take the train back home with full hands.
just to see the man from the line in the grocery store thumbing at the instant noodle cup’s lid, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
his hands wordlessly approached yours to take your bags of groceries, not even frowning at the heaviness of them, as he let out a puff of cigarette smoke.
“i’ll drop ya off, little lady.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
“our love was fierce. characterized by sleepless nights, stolen breaths and undying passion.”
ragged breaths filled the air of your small bedroom. it was dark, perhaps around nighttime, and the air was thick with sweat, arousals and the sinful smell of sex.
a lazy kiss was exchanged between you two with swollen, trembling lips as you settled down in each other’s arms. your eyes were shut as toji moved a little to light a cigarette.
your fingertips traced over his bare, built chest, post-orgasmic glow making his handsome face look even prettier. you were convinced he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen in your life.
“are you staying for dinner?” you asked, voice hoarse and quiet from how he had formerly railed you into your mattress. toji wasn’t a gentle lover. the word soft was very foreign to him. but you didn’t mind that. you didn’t mind him squeezing your hand too tightly whenever he held it. he didn’t know any better.
he exhaled the cigarette smoke away from you, large palm settling on the tender, bruised flesh on your hips. his thick, rough fingers traced over the softness of your skin that he had grabbed and kneaded mere minutes ago while manhandling you.
“sorry, baby,” he mumbled into your hair as you already knew what was coming, “gotta go. i’ll stay over next time, promise.”
you wanted him to stay, you really did, but with a sigh, you watched as he got dressed and left — not without pulling you into another kiss. missing the way his eyes twisted with a hint of guilt as he shut the door to your apartment behind himself.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
“you weren’t a man of many words. you didn’t like talking too much about yourself. but you’d always listen to whatever i’d say. and whenever i wasn’t up to talk, we’d relish in each other’s silence. it was calming.”
“how many girlfriends have you had before me?”
the silence surrounding the air on your balcony after your question made you reconsider if it was a smart thing to ask.
it wasn’t. since when was it okay to talk about exes? you remembered it as one of the most off-putting conversation topics to ever come up with.
toji’s bare arms were propped up against the metal railing, gaze wandering from the unspectacular sight below him that consisted of old, run down buildings and sketchy streets, to you.
he knew it was too late to tell you the truth. he pressed his scarred lips together in regret, before opening his mouth to respond to your question.
“many.”
he saw the way your nose scrunched up at the ugly word — he wished it had been the truth. much better than hurting you with a fucking lie. made him wonder how you’d react to the truth.
“c’mere.” when you didn’t make a move to approach toji, he pulled you into him, dwarfing your body in his form. “you’re not mad, are you?”
“how could i ever be mad at you?”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
“there was just one thing i wish you had just told me from the beginning. you know, i actually knew the entire time. i was just waiting for you to tell me.”
“dad, the show’s about to start.”
toji was now a couple of years older, about to celebrate his fourth decade of living in a few weeks. he wouldn’t admit that he was getting older. he had just plucked another gray hair from his scalp this morning, but no one had to know that.
sock-clad feet padded from the kitchen to the living room, bowl of salted popcorn in his hand as he placed it in front of his college-aged kid. toji was in awe at how the brat was becoming more of a carbon copy of himself the more years passed.
the only difference being his spiky, wild hair and blue eyes he had gotten from his mother.
“we’re not watching a match today?” toji sounded rather bored as he leaned back on the couch with a can of soda in his hand, legs finding the surface of the living room table as the younger man munched on sweets.
megumi shook his head, eyes focused on the screen that was still playing some shampoo commercial. “have you ever heard of TATMYLB?” the green-eyed man beside him narrowed his eyes at the obnoxiously long abbreviation, .
“kid. i don’t understand your language,” he grunted, “i’m headin’ out if it’s another high school rom com.” said boy only snorted as he pointed at the tv that happened to be playing a trailer of what was going to be playing next.
“reading today… TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE’s 26th letter!” toji kissed his teeth. of course it was going to be some sappy ass show. why was it so popular anyway?
he raised from the couch, scratching his belly lazily under his sweater as he pointed to the door with his thumb. “gonna check the mail,” he uttered, “we haven’t emptied our mailbox in days.”
megumi hummed, too immersed in what today’s live episode was going to be about. just as toji approached the door, curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself listening.
“unfortunately, she won’t be joining us today, but we have received a beautifully written letter by her! what a lucky man to have been loved like this.” the host spoke gleefully as the audience erupted into cheers and applause.
“our writer is a 29 year old lady from tokyo, a journalist for a very popular newspaper, which explains her splendid writing,” the co-host added, “she has met a man she refers to as her LOST LOVE nine whole years ago.”
toji set his keys down on the shoerack and walked back to the living room. megumi took notice of his dad walking back and smirked. “caught your attention, old man?” he only scowled at his son and placed his hands on the back of the couch.
the stage was beautifully built, and one could tell how much budged was spent on it all. it was a hell lot of pink, too much for toji’s liking — then again, any amount of pink was too much for his liking. the hosts were dolled up to the max, host dressed in a baby pink, frilly dress with her hair done up while the co-host was dressed in a pink suit.
“adding on to that… we have not received an answer or a reaction from the recipient.” a glum round of oh’s echoed across the studio, which made toji snort. “which doesn’t have to mean anything, of course! perhaps he’s just terrible at checking his mail.”
megumi stopped mid-chew as he side-eyed his father, who shot him a look. “old man, you don’t think—” megumi might have been young, but he had a very good memory of his father’s past lovers. especially that one woman who had changed him forever. you.
although he had never met you, he could tell it was you who had a huge impact on his father. and he figured that toji never opened up about having had a son.
“don’t be silly, bud,” toji laughed, reaching over to steal a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his son’s lap. he didn’t even like popcorn, why the hell was he eating it? it had to be the most annoying snack in the world with how the shell of the kernels always got stuck in one’s gums or throat.
you must have moved on years ago. it’s been almost a decade, for fuck’s sake. perhaps you were married already. had kids. he hated how the thought made his jaw clench. it was none of his business anymore, after all.
“mistakes. we all make them. so far, we have had a lot of letters speaking about wrongdoings,” the host clapped her hands together, “but how about keeping secrets? crucial ones?”
of course they were going to drag it on. what a bunch of clowns the audience was for eating it up. he totally wasn’t, not with the way he was clutching the couch cushions in anticipation.
he just wanted to know it wasn’t you, so he could move on in peace. because if you have moved on, then he shall do the same.
the audience was then asked to talk about their experiences with secrets in a relationship, before they started guessing what the person might have done.
eventually, an elderly woman received the mic and laughed. “it wasn’t another woman, so,” she paused, “i’d say hiding a child.”
the two hosts opened their mouths before knowingly looking at the audience, and toji cleared his throat. by now, megumi was fully facing his father, a look of disbelief on his face. before he could speak, toji raised a palm.
“i said don’t be silly,” he warned megumi, “it’s not me. jesus.” megumi shook his head before raising his palm to invite his father to a handshake, challenging him to a bet, “fifty bucks if it’s you, then.”
toji could never say no to bets. maybe he should have checked his mailbox first, though.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
the show was halfway through, currently on a commercial break as you found yourself in the kitchen to prepare yourself a cup of instant noodles. the sight of the cup still brought you back to day you had met toji.
before you could open the lid of the cup, you were halted by the sound of your doorbell ringing. leaving behind the sounds of your kettle whistling, you approached tye door to look through the—
your hand immediately flew to the handle to fling the door open. to stare right at the man you hadn’t seen in over seven years.
there was a lot both of you wanted to say. he wanted to apologize for having disappeared out of nowhere, for having abandoned you when things had been going so well between both of you; while you wanted to slap him, cuss him out and scream at him.
alas, all that came out was a choked sob on your behalf. a sound forced out of your throat, displaying the despair you had felt out of the lack of closure.
toji watched with wide eyes as you broke down in front of him. he wanted to make you happy. or get yelled at. anything but you crying. fuck, he was terrible at this.
toji was only ever good at leaving. that’s what he had done back then when his family no longer served him; that’s what megumi’s mother had spat at him before she left.
screw the past. screw all of his fears. he had waited far too long to come clean. you didn’t deserve this at all.
“i’m sorry.” he breathed, taking a step closer, now partially surrounded by the warmth of your place that hadn’t changed in the slightest. “i hid him from you because—”
you shook your head, trembling hands raising to wipe at your reddened eyes, “i don’t give a damn, toji.” he shut his mouth, because respectfully, you had all the right to be angry.
what he didn’t expect was for you to chuckle through tears. “stop looking at me like that,” you pointed at his lips, “that stupid pout of yours…” he had a habit of pursing his lips whenever he was distressed. you hadn’t forgotten about it.
when you stepped aside to welcome toji inside, he was baffled. “‘course you didn’t read the letter,” you sneered, which made him look down grimly, “if you had, you’d know that i could never be mad at you.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
you didn’t ask toji to, but he told you everything. how he had just gotten divorced when he met you, and who had fought for split custody the entire time. who couldn’t have you over at his place because of the child’s room he had.
it wasn’t like he was ashamed to have had megumi. he considered him one of the very few good things in his life. but, he couldn’t risk scaring you off. not when he had found someone as perfect for him as you.
and when things got serious, he did what he knew best. which was to bolt.
it wasn’t a surprise to him that you already knew. he had the wrong idea of you by thinking you’d push him away just because he had a son. now he knew that you could have been the best stepmother megumi could have asked for.
if he hadn’t blown it all.
“so he’s in college now?” you were smiling as you were both situated on your couch. toji feld oddly calm looking at you. you hadn’t changed much.
“this was us at his high school graduation,” he couldn’t help but smile too as he showed you his phone wallpaper. the thought that you could have been on that picture too made your smile fade for a second before you found yourself melting at how proudly he glanced down at his son in his crinkled button-down shirt, one arm lazily slung over the boy who looked at the camera with an irritated, forced smile.
you wondered if megumi would have liked you and already accepted you as his stepmother if toji hadn’t left. wondered if you two would have been married by now—
thoughts like those were useless now.
it happened so fast. like the force of two magnets attracting each other, it felt like you were pulled towards each other. a mumbled ‘i missed you’ left your lips before they planted themselves on his, both of you getting lost in the sensation of the other’s lips.
toji’s lips tasted like salt and popcorn, whereas yours tasted of the peace of candy you had popped into your mouth while waiting for the water to boil.
ah… right. the water. the kettle had stopped whistling a while ago. but both of you were busy sucking each other’s faces to notice that.
you were sat prettily on toji’s lap, hands running across his muscles hidden by his clothes. the only sign of him having aged were the tiny wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. other than that, he still looked like the 31 year-old toji you had met in the line of the grocery store.
he was the same man you had given your heart to. and you were eager to do it all again.
your clothing was shedded in a matter of minutes, hastily and in a rush. it felt like you were being intimate with each other for the first time all over again with wide eyes and shaky hands.
toji pressed you into his chest as he slid inside of you, and it seemed like the world stopped for a while. toji didn’t do soft, he wasn’t gentle. but you could swear you saw nothing but softness and adoration in his eyes in this very moment.
once he started thrusting up into you, your hands straddled his face, fingers digging into his skin as if afraid to let go. toji saw and felt the fear in your eyes, and he took both of your hands to place soft kisses on them.
“‘m not leaving again,” he grunted, relishing in the tightness and warmth he was buried inside of, “promise.”
you whimpered, nodding as you pulled him into yet another sensual, messy kiss while you worked each other through your releases. out of all the times you and toji had sex, this had to be the rawest, most intimate time.
it wasn’t fucking. it was love-making. the kind you’d never expect from a man like toji.
he stayed inside of you after both of you came, buff arms trapping you as you listened to his slowing heartbeat as both of you trembled. neither of you wanted to move, if you could, you’d stay like this forever.
toji’s lips against your temple pulled you back from your daze, and you reached for your underwear to avoid a mess, sighing softly when he pulled out of you. “shower?” he asked, to which you nodded lazily.
before he could lift and throw you over his shoulder, you placed a kiss on his collarbone.
“let’s eat instant noodles and rewatch the episode after that. since you haven’t read the letter—”
oh, toji was never going to hear the end of this.
but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji smut#toji x reader#jjk toji x reader#toji x reader smut#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji zenin x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk angst#jjk fluff#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader smut
620 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝟏/? — 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: All he wanted to do was help you overcome your fear of riding a horse by yourself, he would have never gone through with it, if he knew the outcome.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): some fluff, pure angst
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,138
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Cole Walter x fem!Reader
𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it!
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
A strange tension lingered between you and Cole after you moved in a few months ago. You had gotten along with the other boys and Parker just fine, but as soon as you came along, it was as though Cole wanted nothing to do with you, or perhaps didn’t know what to do with you around, You had no clue what this tension was based off on, but it had made every encounter awkward. It didn’t help he was always trying to be a flirt too.
Standing near the entrance of the horse stables inside the barn, you watched as Cole fed and took general care of Custard.
"You wanna ride?" Cole then asked in a nonchalant tone, gaze flickering over to you with a light smirk before turning back to the horse.
“Me? Oh uh…no. Not by myself. I’ve only ridden on the back with someone back home. But I’m too scared to take the reins. Plus I think that horses are the only animals that don’t like me very much.”
Cole laughed at the notion of horses not liking you. He merely hummed in response, stroking Custard once more while he seemed eager to be fed.
This was the first time you hadn’t felt the awkwardness fill a space with Cole and you couldn't quite explain why it felt comfortable.
He then turned his gaze to you for a moment, before speaking up once more. “Who’ve you ridden with before?”
“My cousins from my mom's side of the family. They have their ranches so I’ve been lucky enough to say that I’ve been on a horse. Though I can’t say the same about being in full control of one.”
"Wanna try?" He asked gesturing to the horse. The edge to the question sounded a bit teasing.
“Oh no, I couldn’t!” You laugh putting your hands out. “I more than likely will fall off out of pure panic.”
"Afraid he'll buck?" He said, the edge in his tone playful again. "It's not too hard– I promise." He then turned to you, with a slight smirk on his face. "Hope it’s not me that you're not scared of, are you?" He asked.
“You? No…Custard, maybe.” You glance up at the beautiful creature
"He's one of our nice horses. Never nipped at a person in his whole life. Can't say he’s never not bucked off anyone but…You'll be fine." He said with a smirk. "That…and aside from a couple of scratches from his hooves when you try to get on, but trust me you'll be 100% fine. How about it? Come on- I dare you."
“Dare me. How comforting.” You wince as you try to take his reins but he moves causing you to back up.
“Woah!” Cole says. “Seems like Custard here got agitated by your approach.” Cole himself took a step back with a slight grimace in your direction. “Looks like he really doesn't like you." He breathed out a laugh, turning his back towards you once more. At the same time, you couldn't help but see a tinge of disappointment in his eyes upon failing to coax you to try mounting the horse.
“It’s fine Cole. We can do this some other time, yeah? It’s getting late anyway. Besides, Custard doesn’t seem to enjoy being in my presence so much right now.” You gave a slight grimace.
Cole took a breath in and out but didn’t turn to face you, instead took to stroking Custard before sighing quietly. "We'll see about that," He said with faint certainty as he took ahold of the reins in one hand. "You stay right there." He then turned to Custard, who seemed to calm down a little bit as Cole moved beside him, stroking his mane.
“What are you doing?”
"Getting him more used to you." He said with confidence, moving around the horse with a soft hand. "Don’t worry, he’ll forget you even reached for his reins while scared in the next couple of minutes– he'll start loving you. I promise." He then turned back to you with another teasing smirk.
“I don’t know about that...” You chuckled nervously as he walked him over to where you stood. You made a noise as Custard was only an arm's length away.
"Trust me." He said confidently as he held the reins tight. With your reluctance though, Custard only became more agitated with each step he took closer towards you. He whinnied slightly and stomped his hoof. Cole still had his eyes on you, however– seeing your nervous expression.
“Cole I’m only making things worse-“ You shook your head as Custard stomped his hoof again.
"Trust me..." He repeated as he continued to walk up Custard towards you whilst remaining cautious in his movements.
By this point, Custard's ears were pinned backward, and was quite vocal in his disliking of you All of a sudden, the horse turned to face you as his nostrils flared. Your heart sank as he started thrashing his head wildly.
“Cole…” You held your hands out in front of you. Your eyes widened as he dragged his hoof like he was getting reading to charge at you.
Cole's eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the reins tighter, staring at you as Custard tried to take a step forward– almost charging at you.
"Quit backing up. That is the worst thing you can do right now–” He said, his tone stern.
Custard then proceeded to take another step forward, but this time Cole was ready as he blocked the horse's legs– keeping him in place.
“Don’t move, just stay calm.” You froze like a statue, waiting on Cole for his word.
He then let out a breath of relief as Custard stopped huffing towards you. He stared at you for a moment. “You okay over there?" He asked, looking at you with genuine concern now. Custard on the other hand seemed to be calming down by the minute, turning to face Cole as he continued to pet him.
“Okay? Yeah, I’m great…other than the fact your horse just tried to charge me!”
Cole's gaze became a bit sharp at the sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "He didn't– He didn’t charge at you. I’d never let that happen. Now, if you can stop being all sarcastic– that would be great." He said in a rather blunt manner, as he then moved to face you. At this point, Custard had calmed down and was just watching you with curious eyes.
You looked down at your shoes. Feeling stupid for being scared. Maybe you read the creature's body language wrong, then again how would you know? You knew nothing about them. You hadn’t meant to make Custard agitated.
"Look at him..." He said firmly, as Custard seemed to be waiting for you to just give him a chance. "See? He’s doing nothing wrong. He just got scared by your approach, that's all." He then sighed heavily in your direction. "You wanna know how I got him to love me?”
You shifted your gaze onto him. “H-How?”
“By giving him the time of day."
“Really?” You eased up.
"Yes really. I was like you. I was scared of him in the beginning. Now he’s my favorite one out of all our horses."
He moved towards you with Custard, reaching out for your hand to bring you closer to the horse. Custard immediately got a little more agitated as he stared at you.
"Look– He won't bite. I promise. He's just scared, like you. Just stroke his mane for a bit." He said, his voice firm and reassuring. Custard continued watching you suspiciously.
“Okay.” You nodded.
He then let your hand go and stood to the side to observe you and Custard. You hadn’t even realized he walked away leaving you two alone. Custard was still looking at you with a curious stare, though that all seemed to melt away upon you finally stroking his mane. The horse then seemed to relax and started lowering his head, seeming almost grateful for the pets.
You breathe out a laugh. Then turn around to look at Cole finding him standing at a further distance from you two. He watched your eyes grow slightly. Shaking his head. “You’re okay! You’re doing good, just breathe.”
You continued to slowly stroke Custard's mane, as he seemed more comfortable with you now.
Slowly, he started to take a few steps in your direction, as you were finally able to reach out and stroke his side. He even seemed to enjoy it. As you moved closer, you could see that Custard was quite a fluffy friendly creature.
Cole continued to stand to the side, slightly amused by your initial fear as Custard continued to relax under your touch. He found himself not being able to avoid smiling but didn't want to distract you from this moment.
Custard continued to enjoy the attention with his large brown eyes locked onto you, as he lowered his head further.
Cole stared at you in mild amazement. He did not expect you to get this far with Custard considering his attempts to get you to mount the horse. Though it was pretty obvious he was impressed. After a couple of more strokes, Custard let out a happy whinny. He kept staring at you once you stopped, almost as if waiting for you to continue.
"I told you…He's quite nice once you give him a chance." Cole said, stepping closer with a slight smirk.
“You’re not so bad after all…” You muttered softly to the horse. You stroked his hair. A smile adorning your lips.
The horse now started shifting his head, as he leaned into your hand– wanting more. Cole had walked up to you by now, giving Custard a quick stroke as he happily let out a whinny.
"There. See?" He asked, seemingly pleased with this development.
“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
He let out a low hum and leaned back, watching Custard for a second before staring at you again.
"Want to try riding him now?" He smirked.
“Oh um…” You look back to the horse. Then back to Cole. “You know what…yeah, I would actually.” You offer a small smile.
He nodded and walked towards Custard- holding the reigns of the horse once more.
"Just stay there. I'll get him ready." He moved Custard beside you and started fiddling with the saddle and whatnot. Custard kept watching you with curious eyes and then turned to Cole when he called his name.
You nodded back with a smile. Watching as he moved around the stables with ease.
After a few minutes, Cole had finished setting up the saddle. He then turned to you as Custard looked at you once more.
"You ready?" He asked and you would have noticed that the smirk finally left him as he took off his hat and handed it to you. He wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable riding the horse.
Custard still kept staring at you, though his eyes were no longer suspicious— and seemed happy to see Cole's attention now turned to help you get on him.
“Yeah…” You nodded. “So do I just hold onto here?” You pointed to a spot on the saddle. He nodded and came closer to you.
"Just hold this handle here, and put one foot inside this stirrup. I'll do the rest." He said as he came right up to you and helped you up on Custard, pushing against your bottom to lift you up. He pulled on the saddle straps, and stirrups, making sure you were comfortable and safe. Once you got comfortable, he stepped back and smiled at you again.
"You ready now?" He asked again, though his voice was no longer teasing. It was reassuring.
“Yeah.” He then grabbed the reins and led Custard out the barn doors and toward the training area as he watched you out of the side of his eyes. Custard, of course, seemed quite happy to have you on his back as you went out.
By now, you felt much more comfortable on Custard's back as you held his reins tightly in your hands. He continued to walk around freely, watching Cole every so often.
"You ready to speed up? Or should we take it slow?" He asked you, his eyes still locked onto you as you rode along the fence.
“Speed up?” Your eyes widened. “We just started Cole.” He hummed thoughtfully, as Custard seemed to be getting a little bored from walking at a pace so slow.
"We can take it faster than this for sure. I'll be beside you– nothing will happen." He then looked at you with a reassuring expression and gave Custard a bit of a nudge. "Just take it easy with the reins, alright? All you have to do is hold them tight."
“Okay…okay. I can do this.”
"That's the spirit, you got this!" The horse then trotted forward a little bit faster now, as Cole watched you.
Custard breathed out, as if sighing and testing and judging your experience as a rider, digging his hoofs into the dirt, as though he was trying to indulge how you would react to him now picking up the pace.
“Cole. He’s going faster!” You exclaim.
He looked at you with an amused expression as Custard started trotting faster and faster. "Just hold on to the reins! It's fine." He said, his voice now being firm and certain.
Custard then suddenly picked up even more pace, going much faster as if challenging you to keep up and take control. You held tight to the reins but in the blink of a second. Panic flooded your mind.
You looked back in Cole's direction, who was still following you with a calm expression before he suddenly spoke up again- trying to guide you towards keeping up with Custard.
"Slow his pace. Just grip the reins tightly and look straightforward. Then, pull the reins back in your direction to make him slow down." He explained as Custard was going even faster.
It was too much to comprehend. Everything was happening so fast that you ended up pulling at his reins instead of gripping them.
Custard seemed to get agitated by this, almost like he could sense your fear. The horse's hooves seemed to be tapping against the ground quicker and quicker now as if you were not quite fast enough to control him. You could do nothing but hold on for dear life as Custard tried to go against the pull of his reins as fast as he could.
“What are you guys doing out this late?” You both turned towards the new voice that started approaching from the house. It had been Alex. Upon the distraction, your grip had loosened on the reins and Custard took this as his chance to throw you off him. You gasped as you fell backwards, your heart sank. Then nothing. Your head colliding with the ground hard first, your shoulder, then your body colliding down next, rendering you unconscious.
“Cole!” Alex yelled running towards you. Having seen you get thrown off.
Cole was instantly startled by this whole scenario, feeling a sudden panic as he whipped his head around to the thump his ears caught. He looked to Custard who was whinnying away, dread hitting him not seeing you on his back, his face falling as soon as he saw your body on the ground. He held his breath.
“Y-Y/n.” He called out. Upon realizing you were unresponsive his panic seemed to melt into worry and terror. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, running and falling on his knees hard against the dirt. He knelt pressing his ear against your nose, you were still breathing.
"A-Alex go get Mom and Dad!" Cole yelled immediately, as he tried to shake you awake, patting against your face to try and get a response from you. When he cradled your head, dread hit him when he pulled his hand away, drops of red staining his fingertips. His breathing hitched. Alex stared wide-eyed, trying to gather his head at the scene before him. When he made no move to go, Cole yelled again, his voice cracking. “Alex! G-Go get Mom and Dad! Go get Mom and Dad now! Go—” He didn't seem to hear a thing as he shook you frantically to try and wake you up. “Y/n– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, oh god please!” He pleaded, his vision getting blurry from the tears.
“H-Holy shit!” Alex tripped over his feet as he turned back around and ran for the house. Yell as loud as he could to alert his family. “Mom! Dad! Dad!” Cole heard Alex hear in the distance.
You remained unconscious as Cole patted against your cheek. His dad and mom ran over after having been awoken by hearing their son scream bloody murder. He watched as Cole tugged you into his arms rocking you back and forth. They had only ever seen him in such a state after his football career was over.
His dad, upon approaching, looked at Cole in complete and utter horror as they both looked at your unconscious body and the horse now trotting next to you both. “She won’t wake up. S-She won’t wake up!” Cole shook his head.
"What the hell happened?" George asked, looking from Cole to the horse and back to you once more. Cole started to talk, but he still seemed much more focused on you than he was talking to his dad.
"Custard threw her off, Dad. It was bad. She hit head first." Alex hurt in.
“Oh my god!” Katherine knelt before Cole. Squeezing his shoulder as she took note of the red on his hands.
“What have I told you boys about riding at night? The horses are supposed to be in their stalls. No riding after dark, that’s our rules, Cole you know this– You two were supposed to be sleeping!” His dad sighed running a hand down his face. “Okay, we gotta go. Alex, go get my keys now.”
“I know. I know Dad– She just wanted to ride him okay? Who was I to say no to her?” He laughed but it hadn’t reached his eyes. “I thought I could get her used to Custard…” He looked down at you in his arms. Gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hands. “This is all my fault…”
“Let’s worry about whose fault it was after we get her to the hospital, sound good? Can you pick her up?” Cole nodded in response, looking up at his dad with a solemn gaze, before looking back down at you.
Custard was being stopped by Alex, taking hold of his reins. Looking between his parents and you in Cole’s arms. Cole kept stroking your cheek, begging whoever would hear his silent plea to be able to see your eyes again.
"It was supposed to be harmless and simple..." He said quietly. "Not sure what went wrong...I don't think I've ever seen Custard do that before..."
“Sweetie…” Cole looked up at his mom. “We gotta move quick with this okay, before any more serious issues come up. Let’s go get her help.” Cole held a slight frown as he agreed, he inhaled deeply before sliding his arms underneath your back and legs. With a grunt, he slowly stood up. His mom placed your dangling arm against your chest, brushing back hairs that swept your face.
He looked down at you thinking how you looked so peaceful as you were unconscious. Yet, something told him that you were probably having quite the nightmare right about now. He felt bad that his attempt at trying to help you overcome your horse-riding phobia had ended up like this. Though, to be honest, he hated the way it ended up like this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.
Cole looked up at his mother, before looking at you with what seemed to be a guilty look.
“Come on Cole.” She ushered him forward towards the truck his dad drove up to the front of the house. She turned towards the rest of the party now all waiting at the steps of the porch. She opened up the back door for Cole to let you two in. Danny mostly. “You’re in charge until we get back. Make sure Alex puts Custard away alright.” He nodded, not arguing.
“Is she gonna die?” Lee asked. Solemn written all over his face.
“Let’s not think like that right now okay? I’ll call when we have more information.” Katherine sighed and shut the door behind Cole where he sat in the back with you.
Cole looked up at his dad through the mirror and then down at you. “Please be okay,” Cole whispered to you. Katherine and George looked at one another solemnly as they listened to their son. “I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you…”
It had been a long and agitated night for Cole. His dad had to keep him from bouncing his leg up and down multiple times and gave up eventually knowing he wouldn’t stop.
It was only when the doctor called their name that his world had stopped. He had turned from the doctor and his parents, gripping his hair before he turned and began punching the wall adjacent to him. He had broken down in tears as his dad wrapped his arms around him from behind. George sank to the ground with Cole as he tried to take in the news of the state you’d be in after the serious head injury you sustained.
Your skull had fractured upon impact with the ground. There was a slight crack which explained the blood he found on his hand. The doctor went through the types of treatments they’d get started on you but it was when he announced that he wanted to keep you in an induced coma to let you heal properly that made him see red. For how long though…he didn’t want to know.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I'm sorry, bug. I’m sorry..” He wept in his dad's arms. His eyes closed as he rested his head against his dad's shoulder. Katherine placed a hand over his mouth trying to compose herself, not wanting to see her baby in such a state.
“If you have any further questions let me know. That’s all for now I’m afraid. I’m sorry son.” The doctor gave Cole a sheepish grin before he nodded to Katherine and George, walking off with that being said.
“Cole–“ George began, but Cole shook his head, pushing himself away from his dad.
“How long am I grounded for?” He clenched his jaw.
“That’s not– Hey let’s worry about it another time, not right now.” George rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in a lot of pain right now–“
“Pain?” Cole scoffed. “You think I’m in pain right now…” He smirked, flexing his jaw. “No seriously Dad, how long am I grounded for huh? A week? Two weeks? A month? Till Y/n wakes back up? If she even wakes up?” He exclaimed.
“Cole, sweetie–“ Katherine went to console him but flinched when he stuck his finger out not wanting to be touched right now.
“How long, Dad?” He looked through his lashes at him..
“I’m not doing this with you right now son.” George clenched his jaw.
“Why not huh? I can see it in your eyes already. Your disappointment in me. Come on, we both know how much of a screw-up I am in this family. Tonight only proved it further. So how long Dad?”
“How long? You want to be grounded so damn much then fine…You’re grounded till the next school year starts. Happy?” George let his hands slap to his sides.
“George!”
“Super...” Cole smirked then walked back out of the hospital.
“Cole! Cole! Where are you going?” Katherine called out to him.
“Anywhere but here.” He threw a peace sign out over his shoulders.
Katherine turned to her husbands in shock. “Till the rest of the semester?”
George closed his eyes, regret hitting him instantly. “I know…I’ll talk to him later.”
“Yeah…then you’ll unground him 'cause that is not what he needs right now. Okay– he is very vulnerable right now. You know how he feels about Y/n and this will only affect him more if we don’t stand by his side. Cole needs us more than ever right now. We’re all that girl has. We promised Triny…” Katherine looked defeated. “Please let her get through this…please get her through this.” She placed a hand against her collarbones. Muttering to herself and praying for a miracle. George pulled her into his chest, pressing soothing kisses against her temple as they stood in the hall.
#cole walter#cole walter x fem!reader#cole walter x reader#cole walter imagines#cole walter imagine#writings by juls#my gif#cole walter oneshot#my life with the walter boys#mlwtwb#mlwtwb imagines#my life with walter boys imagines
390 notes
·
View notes
Text
Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.
---
“Agent, are you in?”
“I’m in position.”
“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”
That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.
You were collateral.
... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card- in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.
You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south.
“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”
...
“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”
...
Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.
A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.
“... this seat... taken, doll?”
You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...
... the eyelight of Sans Serif.
Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.
... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.
“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.
He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.
... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.
“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”
Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.
“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not.
“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.
You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”
He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.
He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.
The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.
“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?
You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”
He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”
He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.
“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”
“what brings you... to a casino, then?”
“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”
... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”
You nearly flushed. “Of course.”
His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”
Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.
“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”
The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”
You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”
His smile grew. “why?”
“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”
He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.
He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”
“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”
“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”
... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.
“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.
He grinned, and looked to the bartender.
“two tequila sunrises, rob.”
---
Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.
“Sir?”
“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”
“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”
He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”
The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”
He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”
“Yes, sir.”
“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”
“Yes, sir.”
... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.
“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”
“Yes, sir.”
#llama writes#was stuck between mf and hmf for this#but i feel like hmf gives more bond supervillain vibes#which was what i was going for#i had a dream where i was a spy at a casino and that is what inspired this whole thing hksdjfds
540 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 6: in a world of boys he's a gentleman
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader
WC: 4.2k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, Eloise being the best, Colin finally having brain cell(s), but then very quickly losing aforementioned brain cells
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
May 30, 1816 – One week has passed since the unfortunate revelation of Lord Barlow’s true nature, and Lady Y/N Montclair has yet to make an appearance at a ball. Could it be that the Duke’s betrayal has left her too disillusioned? Perhaps the eligible gentlemen of London have failed to meet her exacting standards. One can't help but wonder if Lady Y/N be present at tonight’s ball, where the ton's most eligible bachelors will undoubtedly be vying for her attention now that she is decidedly searching for a new suitor. Who among them shall be lucky enough to capture her attention? This author does not know, but hopefully, this evening reveals more of Lady Montclair’s intentions.
Colin was grinding his teeth, his right eye twitching slightly as he glared at Eloise, with whom he had been arguing for the better part of the last hour.
“It’s not like I haven’t tried to be agreeable! She’s just impossible,” he ground out.
Colin was about finished with having to face criticism from his sister when you were the one who had ignored his attempt at a truce.
“It certainly doesn’t help that you rile her up every single time you see her. She’s trying to find a husband, mind you!” Eloise shouted back.
She had grown quite close to you in the past weeks, and she knew the kind of pressure you were under tonight. It was your first ball after finding out the Duke had sneaked away from the Bridgerton ball with Miss Barrington, and your full focus would be on finding a new suitor. Eloise generally preferred to stay out of your neverending conflict with Colin, but she knew he would never understand what you were going through. The very least she could do was ensure that he acted decently toward you, though it seemed like even that would prove a challenge.
“Exactly! I was the one who wanted to warn her about Lord Barlow’s betrayal, and now she thinks I’m the one who gave him access to our courtyard,” snapped Colin.
He couldn’t believe Eloise. How could she not see that you were one of the most infuriating, unpleasant, and insolent people in the ton? Why was she so intent on defending you? Colin was irritated beyond belief, and he wanted nothing more than to never speak with you again after the horse races. You had promptly ignored him after accusing him of orchestrating Lord Barlow and Miss Barrington’s escapade, and he spent the rest of the afternoon angrily stealing glances at you as you chatted pleasantly with his sister.
And to learn that you still wanted to find a husband? You could become a spinster, for all he cared. And he didn’t. He didn’t care. About you or about Lord Barlow, or frankly, about anything that had transpired since the Bridgerton ball. All he knew was that tonight, he would be forced to watch you bat your eyelashes and giggle softly as you talked to countless men when all he got from you were angry stares and sarcastic laughs.
“She’s the one who doesn’t want to be on good terms with me,” he added stubbornly, crossing his arms.
Eloise let out an exasperated groan and rolled her eyes. “Colin! Can you not find it in yourself to set aside your dislike for her and understand that she is an unmarried lady who just lost a titled man she was practically guaranteed to marry? She is in a precarious situation, not to mention feeling heartbroken and betrayed.”
In truth, Colin thought, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t even begin to. He had never faced that kind of pressure before, certainly not about something as trivial as marriage, and suddenly he felt guilty for wanting to spend the entire evening tormenting you so he could avoid watching you amass suitors.
Sensing that her words had struck a nerve, Eloise took advantage of her brother’s waning resolve. “You are Colin Bridgerton, Mayfair’s sweetheart! I don’t understand why you can’t act that way with her.”
“She doesn’t want that! She doesn’t want me!” Colin yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut in frustration.
But Eloise didn’t let up. “I’ll wager she wants that tonight. You don’t need to kiss the ground she walks on. Just be civil and refrain from any ungentlemanly conduct. It’s her first ball since the Lord Barlow scandal, and she doesn’t need to look bad in front of a crowd of eligible bachelors.”
“I don’t ever do it on purpose!” he defended.
“You could’ve fooled me,” scoffed Eloise. Then, softening her tone, she added, “Just tonight. Please.”
“Fine,” he relented.
If it was so important to Eloise, he would do it. He supposed he would want someone to do that to Eloise if she was ever in your same position. But he was already dreading the night. He had never particularly enjoyed balls, and he knew tonight would be especially dreadful. Usually, your arguments provided prime entertainment, and if he wasn’t allowed to fight with you tonight, he would just have to endure the monotony of the ballroom without any respite.
---
You drew in a sharp breath as you entered the ballroom, looking around at the crowd nervously. Charlotte placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and led you toward the back of the room. Had she chosen to go to the furthest place from the entrance simply to torture you? You were nervous enough as it was; you didn’t need the added anxiety of having everyone’s eyes on you as you walked through the crowd.
You had opted for an elegant white gown tonight. Well, your mother had suggested it and you had inevitably agreed to wear it.
“It’s meant to look like a wedding dress!” she had exclaimed earlier. “It shows you’re still in the marriage mart despite everything that’s happened, and you’ll have gentlemen queuing up to dance with you.”
Whatever the reasoning behind the gown, you had to admit that it was beautiful. It accentuated your figure, and you could already feel plenty of keen eyes on you and more than a few furtive whispers. Though you couldn’t make out exactly what people were saying, you were sure you heard your name mentioned several times. However, you smiled gracefully at everyone anyway, wanting to avoid being seen as a complete laughingstock after losing Arthur. The Duke, you corrected yourself. He was no longer Arthur to you.
“Y/N,” you heard Eloise’s excited voice beside you.
You turned to see her smiling face and squeezed Charlotte’s hand to let her know she could go on without you.
“Hello, El,” you greeted, smiling wide.
“The balls have been torture without you! I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she gushed, taking your hand and leading you to a less crowded part of the ballroom.
You relaxed slightly. At least one person here didn’t hate you. But perhaps she was the only one. As you kept speaking with Eloise, you realized that not a single bachelor had come to ask you for a dance. Usually, you had to reject quite a few gentlemen within the first few minutes of being at a ball, but your dance card remained empty tonight.
Swallowing nervously, you looked around the room and assessed the gravity of your situation. Plenty of people were staring at you, but no one had moved toward you. Were they waiting for someone else to walk up to you? Did they not want to be the first to dance with you? Or did this mean that Lord Barlow’s actions had well and truly ruined you? Feeling the familiar beginnings of tears forming in your eyes, you quickly started to panic. What would your parents say?
You were trying to focus on Eloise’s words, but all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat, and you were surprised people around you couldn’t hear it, too. Your stomach flipped uncomfortably as you realized that you might have truly fallen out of favor with the ton. The thought made you feel sick. This wasn’t how you wanted the season to go. How you needed it to go.
Just as you were ready to bolt outside in search of fresh air, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your stomach clenched, and for a fleeting moment, you hoped it was Colin Bridgerton. As much as you weren’t looking forward to the inevitable antagonism you would face from him, and as much as you knew that he wasn’t interested in anything from you other than an argument, the thought of engaging with someone of the opposite gender provided a fleeting sense of relief. Anything to momentarily divert your thoughts from the Duke's betrayal and the disheartening realization of your diminished standing in society. Although knowing Colin, he would probably bring up the subject just to spite you.
However, as you turned around, you came face to face with your brother. A tiny rush of disappointment coursed through you, and you crinkled your face in confusion. It was a disconcerting realization, indeed, to find yourself yearning for the company of Colin Bridgerton, the very individual you despised most in the ton.
Leaning down close to you, Louis asked lowly, “Ça va?” (Are you alright?).
“Louis,” you rolled your eyes and nodded, trying to convince him–and yourself–that you were fine. “Ça va” (I’m alright).
“Excuse me just a moment,” spoke Eloise as she looked between you and your brother. She squeezed your hand and turned around, leaving you with Louis.
You cringed, internally hearing your parents scolding you for speaking French around her. But Louis, unphased by Eloise’s exit, spoke again. “Non, j’suis serieux. On peut y aller,” he insisted (No, I’m serious. We can leave).
It was nice of him to check up on you. But it only left you feeling worse, a sobering reminder that your situation was dire enough that your brother was actually being sweet to you.
As much as you would have liked to, you knew you couldn’t leave the ball. It would only make it worse to flee now. Your parents had already allowed you a weeklong break from social events, and they would be most displeased to find out that you were giving up so soon after your re-entry into society.
So, you steeled yourself, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Leave the ball? For me or for you?” you asked Louis, poking him teasingly.
He relaxed upon hearing your light tone, letting out a breath as he smiled down at you. Your parents had asked him to be especially careful with you tonight, and he was left with sickening worry. You were his little sister, and as much as you had your differences, he still thought himself in charge, at least partially, of your wellbeing.
The worst part was that he knew exactly the kind of man Andrew Barlow was, and he was beside himself with guilt that he had even let the man near you. But you seemed to be getting through it, he noted, relieved.
Colin was rooted to the spot across the ballroom, staring at you as you engaged in easy conversation with your brother. How you could be so disagreeable toward him, and completely pleasant with everyone else was absolutely beyond him.
But what really caught his attention tonight was your attire. You were wearing a white gown, and he briefly wondered if that was what your wedding dress would have looked like. He couldn’t help it; you looked positively stunning, and he was angry because he knew if he even attempted to talk to you, you would most likely bite his head off.
Colin jumped as he felt a tap on his shoulder, slightly embarrassed at having been discovered staring at you. He turned around to face his mother and Eloise smiling far too innocently for his liking.
“Colin, go dance with Y/N, please.”
“Can’t Benedict do it?” Colin pleaded. He would do anything not to have to speak with you right this moment. It was far better to look at you from a distance, where he could pretend you didn’t completely despise him.
“He’s dancing with Penelope Featherington at the moment, so no. Colin, it’s one dance!” Violet responded, exasperated.
“It’s not like she won’t have anyone else asking her,” grumbled Colin unhappily. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen anyone ask you for a dance tonight.
“Colin,” Eloise pleaded. “If they see you dancing with her, they’ll be more inclined to speak with her.”
Remembering his conversation with his sister from earlier, Colin accepted defeat, mumbling a low “just this once.”
He found himself growing increasingly nervous as he made his way over to you, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. What had gotten into him? This was merely a dance like any other. He’d done it many times before, and he could do it with you.
He cleared his throat as he reached your side, drawing you out of your conversation with Louis.
“Not you, too,” you sighed upon seeing him. “I’ve had enough of a difficult time today without your input.”
Colin was momentarily unable to speak, though he quickly recovered. At this point, he didn’t know why kept being so surprised that you thought so lowly of him.
He was not like the rest of the cruel members of the ton, he thought defiantly. And he would show you just how unlike them he was. This was the real Colin Bridgerton, not the insecure, combative version of him that seemed to slip out whenever you were near.
“A dance, Lady Montclair. I came to ask for a dance,” he said patiently, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t act like you’ve got a full dance card,” he rolled his eyes. Alright, maybe he couldn’t completely shake his hostile demeanor.
"Mr. Bridgerton, that is-”
“Please.”
“Why?” came your indignant response.
“We can say we’re both doing it for Eloise if that will make you feel better,” he said, eyebrows raised.
Unsure, you turned to look at Louis beside you, who gave you an unimpressed look and gently nudged you in Colin’s direction.
“Fine,” you huffed.
He let out a breath and reached for your dance card. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, Colin became hyperaware of his surroundings. Every sensation was heightened, and it was almost too much for him to hold your hand as he led you toward the dance floor. He had never had this much physical contact with you, bar the times you had not-so-accidentally stepped on his foot, and he was struggling to maintain his composure.
Your hand felt so delicate in his, and he was actively resisting the urge to interlock your fingers with his. Where had that come from? Why was it that he could never get a grip when he was around you?
Colin was forced back to the present moment as you reached the dance floor, and he carefully set one hand on your waist and used the other to hold your hand, getting into position before the music started playing.
His stomach was in about a thousand knots, and he awkwardly shifted his hand placement, unsure about whether he was making too much physical contact with you. With the way you looked tonight, Colin would have been happy to keep his hands on you all night, but he was sure you did not share the sentiment, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently make you uncomfortable. If he was going to make you upset, he would much rather have done it on purpose and off the dance floor. But that’s not what Eloise has asked of him, so he settled for gingerly holding your waist, his fingers carefully touching the smooth fabric of your dress.
Much to his chagrin, Colin stumbled slightly as the music started in an attempt to begin dancing with you. This was not at all how the most charming member of the ton was supposed to act, he scolded himself, cringing. Perhaps it was a good thing you had never agreed to dance with him before this, and that he never got the chance to properly pursue you as a suitor. If merely a turn about the dance floor with you had him feeling so out of sorts, he couldn’t even imagine what kissing you must have felt like.
Except now he was imagining what kissing you would feel like. His gaze suddenly fixated on your lips, and he wondered why he had never noticed how inviting they looked. It would be so easy to simply lean down, ever so slightly, and touch his lips to yours. Perhaps it would cause a scandal, given that you were in the middle of a ball, but he rather thought it would be worth it. Just a few-
“Keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Bridgerton” your sharp voice cut through his musings.
Colin blinked, brought back to the present moment in an instant. It appeared that, in his rather improper daydream, his hold on your waist had tightened considerably. Irritation bubbled up inside of him as he softened his grip. It seemed that nothing had changed between the two of you, after all. His attempts at playing nice had been, as per usual, futile.
“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the concept of dancing, Lady Montclair, but it necessitates at least some level of physical contact,” he snapped, glaring but still unable to look away from your lips.
Unfortunately, his words were punctuated by another stumble as he fought to stay upright and keep moving to the music, and he had to hold onto you to avoid toppling over.
“What is the matter with you?” you hissed. “Did you never learn how to dance?”
Colin looked down at you, grimacing and expecting to find the furious glare on your face he so often received. But your eyes were elsewhere. They were skittishly looking around the room, and your mouth was settling into a deeper and deeper frown.
He noticed you anxiously chewing on your lip, your hand slightly shaky in his, though you were doing well to hide it. He felt like an idiot. Of course you were uneasy. It was your first dance trying to find a new suitor, and he was making you look like a fool in the middle of the dance floor. Colin felt his own anxiety melt away, replaced by a strange protectiveness he wasn’t sure he was familiar with.
“Just look at me,” he whispered as he twirled you.
You were too anxious to do anything but follow his instructions, and your eyes shifted to him instantly. He looked concerned, and you wondered whether it was concern for you or because he had almost fallen face-first in the middle of the dance floor. Either way, you were grateful you had something to focus on that wasn’t the constant obvious stares you were getting from everyone around you.
But, as Colin twirled you once again, you made eye contact with a man you had danced with on a few occasions. Before you could smile politely, he turned away to whisper something to the person beside him, and your face fell. As you returned to face Colin, you couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see who would be the next person to prove that you were ruined.
You felt a squeeze at your waist, and your eyes came back to Colin’s.
“They don’t matter. Pretend it’s just me and you,” he said softly, reeling you in effortlessly. “Well, perhaps your sister as well, just in case you attempt to murder me.”
You couldn’t help it, you let out a soft giggle and bit your lip to keep from bursting into laughter. And though you were still surrounded by people surely itching to see you stumble and fall, you felt the rest of the ballroom fading away. As long as you kept looking at Colin, and he kept looking at you, there was nothing that could distract you.
“I haven’t been in England that long, but I’m fairly certain murder is illegal here,” you quipped, smiling warmly at Colin for what was probably the first time.
“I’m fairly certain it’s illegal in every place I’ve been to, but I’m not so sure that would stop you,” he said back, a positively rakish smile on his face. But you were far too distracted by his mention of his travels to notice.
“You’ve traveled? Eloise hasn’t mentioned much,” you said curiously.
“I’ve mostly traveled by myself,” he explained, now completely composed, previous stress forgotten, and finding himself enjoying your company. “My family doesn’t have the same penchant for adventure as me, so I usually set off on my own.���
You hummed thoughtfully. This, you hadn’t expected. Now you knew that you and Colin shared a love for travel, and it was a very unpleasant feeling, indeed. You had spent so long trying to distance yourself from him, and it was slightly disconcerting to know that the two of you had something in common. Especially something so embedded in who you were.
“Where was the last place you went to?”
“Greece,” he answered, smiling down at you. “I came back just before the season started. My mother was quite upset with me when she saw my tan.”
You laughed, perfectly picturing Violet’s hand over her chest as she saw her son after spending weeks in the sun. “You’re mad! If I had your kind of freedom, I certainly would not have stayed in England for as long as you have. Why haven’t you left since?”
“I- I’m not sure,” Colin answered. Why had he stayed so long? Usually, he liked to travel during the summer months, but he had stayed put so far and had no upcoming travel plans. “I suppose I am enjoying the season this year.” Was he really, though?
But you had already moved on to your next question. “The language is quite challenging, no? Did you learn at all? How long were you in Greece?”
Colin could have kissed you then and there. His family rarely showed interest in his travels, seldom responding to his letters, and once back in the ton, no one else bothered to inquire about his time abroad. Thus, he found himself pleasantly surprised by your curiosity, even if it was you—of all people—who displayed it.
As your conversation unfolded, Colin realized he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The effortless banter, combined with the tingling sensation that coursed through him whenever your hand grazed his neck, made him feel as though he were soaring high above the ballroom floor.
What if you had said yes that night at the Danbury ball? What if you had accepted his invitation to dance? Would it have felt as remarkable, as natural as this moment? Or was the allure of having you in his arms heightened simply because you had already rejected him?
Colin supposed he might have fallen for you that very night at the Danbury ball, had the circumstances been different. He could have seen himself, in a fit of romantic fervor, asking for your hand in marriage mere days afterward. Perhaps, then, it was lucky that you seemed to have an instant disdain for him. It likely spared him from acting the fool. Though truth be told, he often found himself behaving quite foolishly in your presence regardless.
As the dance ended, Colin found himself yearning to continue speaking with you. He grabbed your hand in his, feeling much more composed this time, and led you away from the dance floor. But he barely had time to turn back around to face you and continue your conversation before a trio of suitors came up and asked you to dance. Before he knew it, you were being swept away once more, this time on the arm of someone else.
Colin congratulated himself on a job well done as he made his way back to where Eloise stood, deftly declining a gentleman's offer to dance. It was a triumph, he thought, that Colin had gone more than five minutes without arguing with you, and you had even laughed at something he said! It felt far better than whatever hostile rapport the two of you usually had.
“Thank you,” Eloise smiled gratefully at her brother. “Now, was that so difficult?” she added in a teasing tone.
“I will have you know that yes, it was,” answered Colin stubbornly, but he knew he was lying even before the words came out of his mouth. Gliding across the dance floor with you in his arms had felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Even now, as you twirled gracefully in the arms of another, Colin found himself not seething with jealousy as he might have expected, but rather in a state of awe. There was something enchanting about the sight of you, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.
Then, unexpectedly, your eyes met his over the shoulder of your current dance partner, and you bestowed upon him a heart-stopping smile, silently mouthing a 'thank you'. Colin had to feign a cough to cover up the giggle he had just let out. A giggle? From Colin Bridgerton, certified rake? What on Earth were you doing to him?
—
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Tag List (get added here):
@marvelspogue @5sosmakesmelaugh5 @maddiebaddie1 @livingthatprovinciallife @willieoo @jessica-1120 @dreadity @h0eforwadewilson @ziarah @wordsgodeep @mrs-c-bridgerton @dianxiaxiexie @like-gabriel-and-castiel @snapeeballsack @sosasi521-blog @saturnssunflower @indecisive-empanada @invisible-dreamers-world @angerpearl @ssexsellls @smugrogerina @cherrysxuya @theonekaysstuff @idkwhatimdoing6 @ella33 @tiger1357890 @mswwvaleska @bozoqt @unadulteratedwolfcrown @anthonylockwoodandco111 @beamuont @adxrekyun @stevenwithav01 @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @patty2191 @expensiveinnocentgurl @erysione @hockeybabestars @inkwriter122 @nighttimemoonlover @chamomiletea-beforebed @sydneygal3107 @alexendria-rose @watersevn @funalpaca @babypink224221 @littlecoffeeadict @agoldenwoe
#bridgerton#colin bridgerton#colin bridgerton x reader#enemies to lovers#colin bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton fanfic#colin bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fanfic#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton fluff#colin bridgerton angst#colin bridgerton x enemy!reader#bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton x you#bridgerton fluff#bridgerton angst#lost in translation#lost in translation: writing
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 - 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘧𝘦𝘺
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Final timeline , valentines special , gn!reader , reader actually likes Valentine’s Day instead of despising it , reader is apart of the student council , delinquent/school council troupe , idk how many members black dragon had but ik the gang was HUGE so I went w 650 , izana knows he isn’t biologically related to the others for plot convenience , idk how old the kids are so Emma is four, mikey is five and izana is seven.
School was always boring, however the only time you found pleasure in attending your mundane school was during Valentine’s Day.
Girls gushing over the chocolates they’re either giving or receiving, and guys flushed from sudden confessions and giving flowers to their lucky lady.
The air in school seemed more lively with the coming of Valentine’s Day.
You were yet to acquire a partner to share this special event with, however that never bothered you too much. You were a fairly popular face around school, and had your fair share of admires (girls and guys alike).
However you were in no rush to run into a relationship. Your status as vice president of the student council already filled your schedule enough as is, and having some dense and clingy person begging for you attention wasn’t ideal.
And so, you smiled gently as you watched your student council friend get a batch of roses from her crush, hoping the very best for her.
Shinichiro, unlike yourself, was rather desperate to acquire somebody to love. Ever since middle school, he’d trail a pretty girl in the halls and ask if she was interested in going to grab a bite to eat.
And the response was almost the same with every girl.
“Sorry, Sano. I probably shouldn’t go out with a delinquent.” “Sorry Sano, I’m not interested right now” “Sano, please leave me alone this is the 3rd time”
As highschool came and past by, Sano had asked out a total of 16 girls and 7 guys before he eventually gave up. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to find his special someone?
It was in his 2nd year of high school before Shinichiro Sano would end up finding somebody to share his obligatory chocolates with.
It was a day like no other, however instead of pure oxygen, something else seemed to fill the air.
Love.
Couples and pre-couples littered the school. Girls flattened out their skirts and boys fixed their hair in anticipation.
You had decided that you’d come a bit earlier today, as you had some papers you had to finish off before class began. It’s not your fault your mother couldn’t pick up your little sister today, even though she had started middle school already.
“Little girls Like Keiko shouldn’t walk home alone, be a good older brother/sister and walk her home.”
Your mothers was just a liiiiitttttleeee over protective.
Only the sound of motorcycles pulled you from your daze as you stared at the entrance of the school. The bikes wernt an uncommon sound, after all.
The Black Dragons are infamous around school, known for their mischievous yet respected leader. Shinichiro was a celebrity amongst delinquents, a shining star for all to follow. The North Star of the sky, as one could say. He caused trouble, yet always cleaned up after himself. He has bad luck with women, however has been known to defend and fight for girls he’s never even met before.
In the eyes of many, he was a dumb and irresponsible boy who led more men than he could handle (650, to be specific). In your eyes however, he was a good man. Sure he got into trouble and messed around with his friends, but he never once laid a hand on someone who didn’t deserve it.
As the man of the hour walked up to the school, his 3 lackys in tow, he walked past you, a gentle smile plastered on his face.
Perhaps, he could be smiling at you?
As you left the council room, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Looking back, you see the hair of Shinichiro’s closest friend, Wakasa Imaushi.
“Hey, got a minute?” The blonde asked you, his eyes gazing your confused expression. You only silently nod, before following the gang leader to your possible doom.
As you walk through the halls of your school, you ponder to yourself silently. What could a delinquent want with the vice president of the student council?
Alas, you eventually come to a halt, you walk into the room, Wakasa holding the door for you like a gentleman. As you enter the room, an interesting sight beholds you.
Shinichiro is sat on a chair, his other two friends are leaning side by side. He would almost look like a king, if it wasn’t for his dopey expression that rested on his face.
“(Y/N) perfect timing! I have something to ask you.”
HUH???
You aren’t entirely sure why your mind went to the certain romantic event being held today, however the clear expression of shock on your face is enough to have Shinichiro put your mind at ease.
“I’m not asking about valentines, you can relax vice prez. I wanted to ask you about your sister.” He begins, his voice getting slightly more serious.
“Why? Has something happened to Keiko that I don’t know about?” You ask him, wondering that if you were correct, how did he know before you?
“She’s adopted, correct? How did that settle for your family.” He seems serious now, but not his scary and gang leader mode scary.
He’s never allow his crush to see him in such a state.
“Yes, she is adopted. We took her in 3 years ago. Why do you ask?”
“Well, there’s a kid my family had taken in from the orphanage recently. He’s a little older than my other two, and he’s not fully Japanese. I’m worried Izana might feel a bit excluded, given he isn’t related to Manjiro and Emma. I was wondering if you had some advice to give me, so I can discuss this with him without him getting uncomfortable or scared.”
You can’t tell if you’re more shocked about the fact Shinichiro Sano told you a very sensitive fact about his home life, or about the fact he’s taken in another sibling. You’re well aware of the other two.
But he came to you for assistance, and no matter what kind of student they are, it’s your job as vice president to help all students out.
“Well, if you wanted, I could bring Keiko around to talk to him about it? He might feel more comfortable talking to a child with similar experiences to him.”
“REALLY?? That would be AWSOME, (Y/N)!”
And so, you picked Keiko up from school and visited the Sano estate. It wasn’t too far from where you live, maybe a 5-10 minute walk, however the second you opened the door…
“MIKEY LEAVE HER ALONE”
“ITS A DOLL NOT A REAL GIRL SHIN”
A boy with blonde hair, no older then six, is standing on the couch whilst a little girl is sobbing in an attempt to get her doll back. Shinichiro is yelling from the top of his lungs at his brother, but isn’t currently in the main room.
“Uhmm… bad timing?” You peeped out, your little sister shuffling behind you. At once, three pairs of eyes land on you. Then, a fourth pair peep from behind a door. Two lilac iris’ stare into your own.
“Wow, a boy/girl” Manjiro says, taken aback by your presence in the house. Emma only looks at you with excitement in her eyes, seemingly noticing the presence of your sister in the house.
“SHIT! Sorry (Y/N) I completely forgot you were coming over today, please make yourselves at home. Emma, Mikey, BEST behaviour around our guests.”
Shinichiro orders his siblings in an endearing manner. It’s like his gang mode has a switch, and his usual personality shines through the curtains.
He’s such a sweet brother
Introducing yourself to the two gremlins, you eventually make your way to the boy of the hour, who was still watching you intently. You bend down to his height and take his little hands in your own.
“Hello, Izana. It’s lovley to meet you. I’ve brought my sister here to talk to you, wanna give it a shot?” His little head nods curiously, before you guide your sister over. Shinichiro orders everyone out of the living room, in favour of giving the two a comfortable atmosphere to discuss in.
Keiko was a bit older then Izana, with him only being seven whilst your sister was turning eleven this year, however you knew that they would click pretty quickly.
You offer to help make cookies for everyone to share, and with excitement in their eyes, the three sano siblings all eagerly get to work on making the perfect batch of chocolate chip cookies.
You and Keiko became a common sight at the Sano family house, with Izana becoming rather attached to your little sister. Itching at the oppourtunity, Keiko immediately took on her big sister role, and takes Izana out weekly to the park to play.
You find yourself talking to Shinichiro more, and in turn, he ends up coming to school slightly more often. The two of you are a SHOCK to the school, with most assuming the two of you would have it out for eachother. You helped him study, and in turn he made sure you had upmost protection when walking around at night.
You started attending his gang meetings as his honoured guest, and it was made known to the entirety of Black Dragons that you were of UPMOST priority. When you’re in the presence of the gang, not a scratch should lay on your skin, otherwise hell would be waiting.
You loved visiting his family, and his family loved you. Keiko would sometimes come too, for Izana, but it was often just you after school. You made sweets with them, cooked with them, helped them with schoolwork. You went to the arcade with them and even invited the three kids to go to the amusement park with your sister (mainly so you and shinichiro could go hang out together).
And just like that, a year had passed and it was valentines once more.
Love was, once again, floating around in the air. This year though, you had someone you desperately wanted to spend it with.
Shinichiro Sano.
School was nothing interesting. Well, I wish I could say that, however it WAS interesting.
BANG!!
The door to your classroom swings open with a hard hit, and the Shinichiro three lackys come tumbling in, dressed in their formal uniform.
“(Y/N), Let’s ride for a bit, Shin is waiting for us out the gate.” Takeomi grumbles, a knowing smirk on his face. All eyes were on the four of you.
“Boys, I can’t just miss class like you three, I actually have to graduATEEEEE-” lifted from your seat in courtesy of Keizo, you squeal as they abduct you from your learning. Hearing the commotion in the halls, many student come to watch what was going on.
By the time you four had made it to the gates, you had the entire school (including faculty bc let’s be real, they’re INVESTED) watching you.
The student council vice president with the Black Dragons??
Gently placed down, you notice Shinichiro standing tall and proud in his gang uniform. Then you finally see it. The ENTIRETY of the Black Dragon was standing behind him, all standing tall. Looking behind you, you notice his top three standing respectfully, as to not have their back towards their leader.
Nervously, you you walk towards the gang leader.
He meets you half way, and approaches you, a gentle smile on his face whilst still remaining proud.
He truly is mesmerising when he gets serious.
“(Y/N), I’m sorry for having your classes interrupted like this, but I thought “hey, why not invite the whole school watch me get rejected once more.”
HUH??
“Shinichiro, are you-” you’re cut off with the boy handing you a bouquet of roses, glitter shimmering on top of the petals. You’re then met with two men in uniform approaching you, a life sized teddy bear in their arms. Its fur is white with a red bow around its neck. It was massive.
And finally, Wakasa brings out a box of expensive chocolates. They look delicious.
And a slight tear is brought to your eyes.
“(Y/N), be my Valentine?”
#shinichiro sano#shinichiro x reader#shinichiro x male reader#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x male reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#kurokawa izana#manjiro sano#emma sano
332 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trafalgar Law ~ Doodles ~ Part 3
Trafalgar Law soulmate au | Imagine a magical connection between you and your soulmate, where everything you write on your arm appears on your soulmate's arm, too.
Part 3/3 | Part One | Part Two
“I…” You could only manage one word at this point; any more words were too hard to get out as you stared at the spot on his arm where the bear doodle previously was. The thought of your soulmate existing was already absurd, and you had long given up on trying to believe. However, this…this was proof. The bear doodle, exact, no room for misinterpretation. You were so shocked you could barely even speak at all as you remained still. All you could do was stare forward as your eyes moved to meet his.
Law looked at you, and as soon as he spotted your shock, he instantly understood what you were feeling. After all, his reaction was the same. Law was practically dumbfounded as the realisation hit him. Yet he also felt like the most idiotic person in the entire world. He never wrote back. Not once. Now that his soulmate was right in front of him, he felt both delighted and upset at himself as he continued to stare at you. He was feeling all kinds of emotions all at once. Joy, shock, fear, and so much more that he couldn’t even think of a name for. He felt so happy, yet so stupid; so relieved yet so scared.
Law couldn’t take his eyes off you despite part of him wanting to run away. He could see you trying to process everything as it came flooding in after years of silence. He felt terrible, awful. At this moment, he felt like an idiot for not writing back to you. His feelings were just as chaotic as yours right now. He could barely believe this was real. He had spent an entire decade telling himself he had no time for his soulmate. That he would only bring you trouble; after all that time, it felt surreal to be standing before you, knowing that fate had bound you together.
Law tried to muster up something to say, but it seemed just as challenging for him to speak as it appeared for you. Yet he needed to say something. There was this entire decade’s worth of conversation he needed to make up for. He tried to move his arms, perhaps to hug or touch you in some way, as he felt the need to show you some physical affection after so long, but it was as if they were frozen in place. The next thing he noticed was a tear started to roll down your cheek. His heart froze in his chest at the sight of the tear running down your face. This was what made him break. He could deal with you looking shocked. He could deal with you staring at him blankly. But seeing your tear just sent a spear through him. His vision was becoming blurrier as tears slowly began to fall from his eyes, too. He was a mess, and he suddenly felt so lucky to meet his soulmate finally. He realised he had wasted an entire decade’s opportunity to talk to you. To spend time with you. As this realisation set in, he wanted nothing more than for you to forgive him.
“W-why didn’t you write back?” your voice was full of emotion, and it was hard for you to manage it enough to get the words out. But it had to be said. Your tears quickly turned into a steady stream flowing down your cheeks as you began to break down in your senses. The floodgates had opened, and all the hurt you had felt, all the sadness you had felt and all the pent-up feelings had just been released. Law couldn’t hold it back anymore. He let out a muffled cry as he rushed forward and hugged you as tightly as he could. Law kept his hold tight around you as he buried his head into your shoulder. Your words hurt him. They really hurt him. He didn't want to give you some lame excuse, but the harder he tried to come up with something, the more he realised that his reason was just plain stupid.
“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” he said it again and again, his voice slowly becoming even more muffled as he became even more emotional. His heart raced as he remembered all of his own emotions. He was scared. He was scared that you would hate him. Scared that you would never forgive him. Scared to hear your response to his apology. He was scared of…well, a lot of things. He wanted to speak, though; he wanted to explain his stupid behaviour.
Law still couldn’t get the words out, though, as a few more tears streamed down his face. All he could do right now was cling to you as he continued to mutter his apologies. He was scared that you were going to reject him. After a decade of no response, you must despise him. His mind was in a frenzy. It was filled with an ungodly amount of fears and regrets. He hated himself. He should have written back all that time ago. He should have talked to you. He shouldn’t have made you feel so alone. For someone that everyone regarded as intelligent, he felt so stupid. Stupid for not writing back. Stupid for ignoring you. He was foolish for thinking he didn’t have time. Everything just felt so silly and pointless. He was probably the worst soulmate in the entire world. He couldn’t even imagine how much you must hate him for his actions. What a horrible person he was. This is why he never wrote back. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve anyone.
Your words sounded broken through muffled sobs as you clung to him and buried your head in his shoulder. “I-i thought you didn’t exist, I-i thought I didn't have anyone…”
Law froze at your words as they hit him like another spear to the heart. The years of silence, the years of false hope. All that wasted time. He was fully aware that he had been thoughtless by disregarding your emotions. But hearing you say it just broke his heart even more. He squeezed you tightly as he tried to suppress his pain. “I’m so sorry…I-”
He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have let this go on so long. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. He should have just listened to his heart and written back. He didn’t want to admit it, but he loved your silly doodles. But he was afraid. He was scared of rejection and convinced that no one could love him. “Please forgive me…I…I…” Law could barely finish. He prayed to every possible god that you could forgive him for his stupidity. He continued to sob into your shoulder, squeezing you as tightly as he could as he repeated his apology. He hoped to god that there was still a chance at forgiveness. He prayed that you could forgive him. Because right now, he could barely stand for how much of an idiot he had been. All this time, he had thought you would be better off without him, so he never wrote back, but all he had done was sabotage himself. He had deprived himself of years' worth of conversations. Years worth of love.
“…I was so afraid you’d hate me, t-that I was…” Law choked out as the last words left his mouth. All the guilt all of the regret came crashing down over him. He felt weak. He felt so damn…stupid. This whole time, he had convinced himself that he was okay with being apart from you. That all of this didn’t matter to him. But at this moment, his whole world came crashing down. You were real. You were his soulmate. And he had made a fool out of himself by avoiding you all these years. He felt sick. He had lost an entire decade of potential happiness all because he was an idiotic, scared little brat. But now, you were real. You were real and in his arms.
“I thought…that I was too broken. I thought that there was no way that you could ever love someone like me. And I was so…” Law broke down again, finally saying the words he had been dying to say all this time. Words he had been denying for a very long time. “I just thought you would deserve someone so much…better…I’d bring you trouble” Law’s grip loosened up slightly, but his arms still wrapped tightly around you as he continued to bury his face into your shoulder. “I…I thought that I didn’t deserve you. I…I‘m not a good person. So, I thought I was doing both of us a favour by not…not writing back. I was going to protect you from myself” He could barely manage to get the words out as fresh tears streamed down his face. It might have seemed like a weak excuse, but it was the truth.
“I-I know I've been the world's biggest idiot, but…the longer I avoided it, the harder it was to write anything. I didn’t even know how I could face you after…after all of this time. I was scared of what you’d say. I thought you’d probably hate-“ His breath hitched. He hated that he had been so afraid. He regretted that he had not given you a chance. He was now aware that as a consequence of this, he might end up losing something he never got the opportunity even to experience.
“It’s okay…” you suddenly said as you held back any more tears, interrupting the torrent of words about to erupt from Law’s mouth. You paused momentarily and leaned back to meet his gaze as you spoke. “It’s okay…you’re here now.”
Law froze as you interrupted him, and those two simple words hit him like a brick to the head. He had been so scared and so worried but...it was okay? You didn’t hate him-no you forgave him. You had found it in you to forgive him even though he had kept away from you for years. Even though he was the one who refused to write you even a single word, you had forgiven him? It was unbelievable. You were still standing there, holding onto him as tightly as he was holding onto you. Law didn't understand. He held onto you with the same intensity, trying to take in the weight of your forgiveness. He was utterly flabbergasted, he shouldn’t have been this surprised. You were just that type of person, you just forgave, and you just accepted. You were a genuine, good person to the very core. It was too much for Law though. He was used to harsh words, not forgiveness. He was used to being hated by most people and not being accepted. He found it difficult to cope with the situation.
Law’s grip loosened slightly, and he began to sob harder. He felt weak, and this was the most weak he had felt in a long time. He was supposed to be strong, but now he was breaking down. He was supposed to be able to take on all of this stress, but he couldn’t. He had no control, and he despised it. “H-how can you?…”Law’s lips were trembling as he tried to get a proper grasp on himself. He couldn’t believe you had forgiven him. Law was supposed to be some irredeemable, evil bastard, yet here he was, having the kindest, most gentle person he had ever known forgive him. He felt his entire body go limp. Tears were pouring down his face at the sudden onslaught of forgiveness. It just all became too much for him. He had been expecting to be hated, hated for the past decade of silence. But it was forgiveness instead. He felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he suddenly tightened his grip on you as hard as he could. “W-why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I don't even deserve your kindness…”
“Shhh…” you whispered as your arms wrapped around him as tight as they could. You weren’t going to let him self-deprecate. He’d spent the last decade hating himself and living in regret. You were going to fix that right here, right now. You were going to make sure that he knew what he deserved. And you were going to start by not letting him say any more bad things about himself.
“H-how can you forgive me…after everything? It’s not fair to you…” Law struggled to hold back his emotions as he attempted to protest.
“Because I have spent years believing that I didn't have a soulmate, and now, you're finally here, and it all feels worth it” You gave him a gentle smile as you pulled away slightly and wiped away the last of your tears. You felt like this moment was surreal, and the thought of rejecting him had never even crossed your mind. He was your soulmate, after all.
Law pulled back slightly too, his gaze fixed on you. And when he saw your smile, he felt warmth wash over him. His heartbeat slowed, and he finally felt he could breathe properly again. So this was it. He had finally found what he had been missing all this time - a person whom he could honestly care for and who reciprocated that same level of care. It was more than just a soulmate; it was a connection that had been absent from his life until now. He never even imagined this feeling. It was truly something else. And yet…he spent a decade afraid of this. He spent over a decade avoiding this feeling. He spent so much time, a decade's worth of time, just avoiding something that he always wanted despite telling himself the very concept was absurd. It was unbelievable, and it was downright moronic. But now here he was, with his soulmate. He was so happy, but at the same time, just so full of regret. But he didn’t want to focus on the past anymore. He spent enough time being alone. All that mattered was now.
Law slowly loosened up as his grip on you also loosened. He let out a deep, long sigh. he felt tired, but in the best way possible. It had been so long since he had felt this calm, this…serenity. His heart rate was finally stabilising, and though his breathing was still heavy, he was finally recovering. He took a gentle hold of your hand. He looked into your eyes and smiled. Law was finally done with it; he was finally done with letting the past rule him. He was finally done with letting his insecurities control him, and he was finally done letting the fear of others influence his every action. With this realisation came an entirely genuine smile. He had never really given much thought to his expression, but now it was the most genuine smile he had ever worn. It wasn't fake or forced. It was his natural smile, and he was finally free to let that be. The wave of relief and catharsis he had felt washed over him. It was the best feeling in the entire world...
Law continued to stare into your eyes as he lightly squeezed her hand. He felt at peace. At peace with himself, and at peace with life. Life didn't seem so cruel anymore, and neither did he. He was ready for anything life threw at him now. He just needed to know that you would stick around with him through all of it. Law gently squeezed your hand one more time before he spoke. He was never usually the talkative or the emotional type, but this whole interaction had brought those qualities straight to the surface. Now, he didn't mind talking just a bit more. He wanted to. “y/n…I…I have to ask…”
You smiled and nodded your head reassuringly. There was nothing he could say that would be off-limits. Law could ask you anything he wanted to ask. You had to know his heart before you went any further, right?
He looked you in the eyes as he took a deep breath before continuing. “y/n, could…could you really learn to love me despite all of this? Despite all of the stupid, idiotic actions I've made?” Law was almost afraid of the answer you might give. Would you still care about him if you knew even half the horrible things he had done? And what about everything else about him? What about his past? His personality? His actions? Everything about him was a mess. But…you were his soulmate, weren't you? So, if anyone had the potential to love him for who he was, it would be you.
You already knew the answer to his question, but you took a moment to consider the most effective way to express it. Eventually, you just decided to answer with complete honesty. “…I’ve been waiting years to speak to you. Years to find out who you are…wondering what you look like, what kind of person you are, what your favourite foods are, if you prefer morning or night…” you softly chuckled. “And I would love nothing more than to get to know every little thing about you….” Gently, you whispered your final words, and a faint rosy hue appeared on your cheeks “to fall in love with you…”
Your answer made him smile, and his grip on your hand tightened just the slightest bit. Your words were reassuring, but at the same time, he expected nothing else coming from you. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that someone accepted him. Someone who would even go as far as spending time with him to get to know him. To even consider the possibility of loving him. His cheeks blushed as he felt the warmth wash over his face after hearing your words. “…I-I like onigiri…and I’m more of a night owl than a morning person.” Law softly chuckled; he felt silly, and his cheeks were now a light shade of red. This was all so foreign to him, this light...affection...he could almost get used to it. Law's lips slowly began to form a warm smile. He clasped your hand and softly ran his thumb over your skin. He wasn't sure if you could tell, but this was the happiest he had felt in years.
206 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
aerariusmetalworks-blog
stuffy stuff
bed-investment-far
Untitled
magdalene-slk
𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽
footy-licious
sweet.feet
totallynotethan
Untitled