#WHY DOES THIS HAVE 5K NOTES WHAT HAPPENED HERE

[beaxmice]

my biggest fear is making a whole rant post about my favorite character or show and then completely fucking it up

like what if what i say about my blorbo isn't right. what if i missed the point. what if i took the symbolism a little too literally or didn't even catch it at all. i'd lose my shit

#its like when your friend asks you if you know when their bday is and youre like uhhhh #the 17th #and itd actually on the 4th #this is a shit comparasion but basically its like #FUCK I MISSED IT BY THIS MUCH kinda thing #save spot #WHY DOES THIS HAVE 5K NOTES WHAT HAPPENED HERE

[mochimooon]

DTF Only (Super Like) - levi ackerman x reader 18+

pairing: Levi Ackerman x afab! Reader summary: You were supposed to take a break and spend Saturday evening alone, until an elusive match arrives at your door. word count: 5k+ notes: Eighth and final part of DTF Only. I'm sure ya'll already know what happens here. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, praise kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fluff ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

The week had been a fun ride. 

Explore, experience, experiment. Tinder was your gateway for all three, giving you the chance to try things you’ve always wanted to try, and discover ideas that stroked a carnal fix you suppressed for years.

It was liberating, it boosted your self-confidence, and it was a much-needed distraction. The scrolling, the messages, the attention, the hook-ups were all fun…until they weren’t anymore. 

By Saturday night, you’re burnt out, body aching, and overall bored of Tinder. You should have seen this coming. 

Or maybe you should have spaced them out more, but everything is trial and error. It’s something to consider if you decide to dive back into the dating pool.   There was just something lacking in Tinder; something that left you unfulfilled. But you were clueless as to what.

For now, you couldn’t care less to ponder. All you wanted to do was soak in a bubble bath and veg out on your couch to enjoy the peace and silence of your own space.

And after you got dressed in your PJs, that’s when it hits you. This is the first time since the breakup that you have been entirely alone. 

No dates, no girls’ night. Only you and your thoughts.

You wonder what Colt is up to right now. If he’s spending his Saturday with his friends, his brother, or if he’s out on dates too. 

You grab your phone from your nightstand, padding down the hall to the living room. You hadn’t touched your phone all day as you had left it on silent.

Checking the hidden messages, you ignore the new ones from the men earlier this week to tap on the last text exchange with Colt. 

It was from over a week ago, hours before he saw you to break up. 

Can we talk later today? 

You knew when you got that message. The ending had slowly played out before Colt made it official. You didn’t break down, you didn’t beg. You didn’t jump for joy either. You just listened and let it happen.   

With a sigh, Colt’s messages are swiped clean, and seconds later, his number is erased.  

Still, you don’t feel devastated. Though a part of you does mourn the end of the relationship, the end of a routine you had gotten too comfortable with. If you two were still together, he’d be over right now, either seated on the couch with his arm over you or having vanilla sex in your bedroom. 

It might not have been riveting, but you do miss the company, the complacency. And that’s why it’s for the best that you and Colt are no longer together. 

The doorbell chimes as you settle into the couch, phone replaced with the TV remote. 

You didn’t make plans with anyone tonight, and it’s a rare occasion to have a visitor arrive unannounced. 

Wrenching the door open, your neighbor, Levi, stands with a package in his hand. 

His eyes glance down momentarily, and you remember how tiny your PJ shorts are. “Not interrupting your night, am I?”

You shrug, tilting your head. “Nope. I haven’t seen you around in a few days.”

“Was out of town for business. Got back earlier, and thanks to jetlag, I’m just waking up. I stopped by the mailroom before it closed, and this was delivered to my box.”

Perplexed, you take the package with your first name printed on the label. Yet another unexpected surprise. 

“I’ll let you get back to your date night.” He motions to turn a heel. 

The laugh escapes you before you can stop it, and Levi turns back with a raised brow. “No date night, not anymore. We…broke up.”

Because he lives next door, it made sense that Levi was privy to your relationship, even to a degree, considering you’d have Colt over a lot. 

Levi hums, impassive as he usually is. “That’s rough. Sorry to hear.”

Again, your feelings are indifferent. “It’s fine. No hard feelings. No regrets.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, it was a good relationship, just wasn’t meant to last.”

“At least you know that now. The last thing you want to do is marry someone that wasn’t right for you.”

You fold your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “True. Now I’m back to square one. It’s not so bad though, just different.”

Levi makes a noncommittal sound. “Embrace it. Change won’t kill you.”

You smile sincerely at that. Change feels weird despite the complacency, but the best thing for you to do is to keep trying, to learn what it is that you really want.

It’s the longest exchange you’ve had with Levi, and out of all your neighbors, he’s your favorite. Simply because he was nonchalant, minded his own business, and had this self-assured authenticity to him, an unconventional sort of charm. 

“Anyway,” you say, shifting the topic and standing more lax against the door. “Any big Saturday night plans?"

Levi doesn’t blink. “None. After that nap, I’ll be up all night, and my apartment could use some cleaning.” 

You hum, musing that you should do the same after such a busy week. However, a different thought enters your mind and you widen the door before you can think it through. “What about some tea? I was going to heat up the kettle."

Maybe deep down, you’re really struggling with being alone, but you wouldn’t have invited him inside if he never dropped by to begin with. 

Levi steps forward, waiting for you to clear the way for him. “What kind of tea?”

You smile faintly, shutting the door. “I’ve got a few options. I was thinking chamomile if that’s what you like.”

“No, I prefer black tea.” 

You bite back a laugh, looking over your shoulder. “You’re particular, aren’t you?”

Levi blinks at you, an answer in his stare.

While you should be offended by his curt response, you’re not. It’s a reprieve from having to force a personality around someone you barely know, and you appreciate Levi being himself.

“Alright, I’ll make two.”

You wander over to the kitchen island, shaking the package by your ear. “Have a seat. The remote should be on the couch. If there’s anything you want to watch, be my guest.”

“Nothing really to watch on a Saturday,” Levi says, flipping the TV on anyway.

“Yeah, true. I was going to check Netflix for something.” The words trail off, distracted with rummaging through the kitchen. You grab clean mugs, black tea bags, and get the kettle going. 

Lastly, you grab a paring knife, curious to open up the package. You don’t remember ordering anything as you scan the label again. Addressed to you, but with Levi’s apartment number. 

Cutting into the box, you peel away the excess plastic and your mind goes into orbit.

It’s an anal plug, made of metal with the end molded into the shape of a heart, adorned with a red stone. 

The memory floods back before you get a chance to read the note buried in the box. 

Before Zeke sent you off the other night, he offered to spoil you (his words, not yours) with a prettier toy, implying he’d like another session with you in the future.

You humored him but froze up when he asked for your apartment number. Thank goodness, Levi didn’t open it. 

Shoving it back in the box, along with the unread note, you turn back to the kettle in time. 

“So, how often do you travel for business?” you ask, prepping the tea. 

Levi looks past his shoulder and then back at the TV. “Once or twice every few months. I wouldn’t mind cutting back on it.”

“Oh? That's not so bad, you get a little vacation.”

“It’s not glamorous when it’s for work. Not every hotel is alike either. A lot of them are fucking filthy.”

You pause, holding back another laugh while you grab honey from the cupboard. Very, very particular. 

“Have you ever stayed at The Helos?” You open the fridge for the carton of milk.

“Our company used the conference hall for a day. I haven’t spent the night, but the glamour doesn’t mean shit. It’s in the busiest part of the city, therefore probably one of the dirtiest hotels in the area."

Arranging everything out on a tray, you walk over to join Levi on the couch, and set it down on the coffee table.

You gesture to the mugs. “If you want any extras to add, let me know.”

Levi flits a look at you, and reaches for a mug, ignoring the honey and milk. He takes the string of the tea bag, dipping it a few times in the tea before letting it sink back to the bottom. 

You welcome the moment of silence, adding your mixes to your mug, plucking the tea bag out with a spoon, and swirling it together. 

Levi takes a tentative sip of his mug. “Not bad.”

You quirk a brow. “Could be better?”

“Could be stronger. I like to steep it for a while.”

“Any stronger and you’d be up all night. Consider it a favor,” you add with a tease. 

Levi sips anyways, giving you a sidelong stare. “I don’t expect to fall asleep tonight. But I can find ways to stay busy.” 

He licks his lips, and you’re unaware of his steely eyes watching you bring the piping hot mug to your mouth.

Levi clears his throat. “What about you? Been busy since the breakup?”

The tip of your tongue blazes, distracted with the week’s memories replaying in your head. You set the mug down, scoffing lightheartedly. “Yeah, it’s stupid, but I was kind of peer pressured into joining Tinder.”

Levi says nothing, mask unreadable. 

You have no problem filling the silence. “Matched with a couple of guys, went on dates, et cetera.” You wave a flippant hand. “It was an experience.”

“That’ll keep anyone busy.” There’s a faint humor to his words. Of course, Levi’s not that much older than you are. You’ve seen him bring a date or two home, you wonder if he’s given Tinder the old college try. 

“Have you ever done it?”

Levi’s response is smooth and firm. “No. My colleagues tried to get me on it. It’s a waste of time.”

“Not your thing?”

“Too many idiots online.” He doesn’t mince his words, nor does he falter when he looks at you. “No offense.”

You laugh at his honesty. “There are a lot of characters on the platform.”

“Clowns, you mean.”

Again, you laugh, wholehearted, like before. Everything that comes out of Levi’s mouth is so subtle yet blunt. Witty without trying to be, an edge to his tone that’s wrapped in silk. Now he’s a character, one that you wouldn’t mind getting to know better. 

“A few here and there. I liked exploring out of my comfort zone. It’s been so long since I’ve dated, I’m a little out of practice. It was fun dating for the sake of it but…”

You pause, back to ruminating on the breakup. It’s not Colt you miss, it’s something else that you can’t pinpoint at the moment. 

“If this is how dating really is, I’m not sure it’s for me anymore. Call me geriatric,” you laugh. “If I wanted anything serious, I won’t find him on my phone. I prefer to meet the old-fashioned way.”

Levi shrugs, the mug ghosting his lips again. “You still can. Anything’s possible.”

You tilt your head, catching him watching you with pointed interest as he takes a sip. 

Meanwhile your tea is tepid compared to the warmth spreading along your face and neck, averting your gaze. “Maybe. I suppose I’ll just have to keep my eyes peeled.”

Levi reaches over to set his mug down, leveling you with a serious look. “You could have saved yourself the effort, if you looked hard enough.”

You turn back to him. “I thought that’s what I was…” Your words clip unfinished.

There’s something different about Levi’s eyes. He's hard person to read, but where the rest of his expression is impassive, it’s his eyes that talk. And those eyes flit to your lips, sliding to your neck, and back to your curious gaze. 

He doesn’t falter, unfazed to be caught staring at your mouth that’s split open mid-sentence. While subtle, you did notice his eyes linger for a few seconds more on your neck. 

You had forgotten about the hickey left behind. By Eren or Zeke, or whoever, you don’t even remember now. Nor do you care, mesmerized with Levi a few centimeters away, a fantasy planting itself in your mind of his lips marking your neck.

“Where else should I have looked?” You can barely hear yourself. 

Levi’s eyes never leave yours. He motions closer like he’s dragging himself through time to get to you. 

You feel the brush of his fingers against yours as he gently pries the mug from your hand and sets it down.

He’s much closer now, you can see the flecks of dark blue in his grey irises. The night sky peeking through clouds. 

Your pulse flares at the hand sliding up your neck. Levi’s thumb gently presses the hickey, clicking his tongue. For a split-second, you’re worried his touch will disappear.

It doesn’t. Fingers crawl up your nape, caressing your scalp while Levi’s thumb strokes the shell of your ear. His warmth fans over your lips as he speaks. 

“Now do you know…” His lips ghost yours. “Where you should have looked?”

Your eyes flutter closed, melting into the kiss. 

Levi holds the back of your head securely, pressing his weight forward, having you slide from the couch cushion. 

You allow him to guide you onto your back, all the while he continues to kiss you gently, swallowing each other’s faint moans.

You caress his sharp jaw, fingers inching to the back of his neck. When they brush against the fresh cut in the back of his skull, Levi growls.

He pulls your face deeper with delicate authority, biting your lower lip. Your head sinks back, gasping into his mouth as his tongue slips in.

Fingers sneak into the back of his hair, tugging lightly, spurring Levi’s own hand to slide down your chest. Through your thin PJ top, he gives your breast a light squeeze, gauging your reaction, and applies more pressure when you respond in favor.  

Another moan slips out the same moment he releases your mouth. Lips latch onto your neck, warm breath burning the goosebumps coating your skin, thrusting you into delirium.

You gasp at the teeth grazing your pulse. 

“This okay?” Levi breathes, scraping his teeth again. 

You nod, puffing out a hum. 

“I’m going to mark you,” is the only warning you get before your neck stings with teeth on skin.

You sag into Levi’s touch, though your hand travels to his chest, wrinkling his shirt in your fist.

A humored growl creeps into your ear. Strong hands seize your waist, your legs fall apart, and Levi tugs you closer to his front. 

A deep mewl rises in your chest, thighs twitching to meet the bulge in his pants. 

Levi's hand wraps behind your nape again to slot his mouth along yours. The other hand works its way up your thigh, lightly scratching at the bare skin. 

He revels when you shiver, digging his nails a little deeper but not enough to break skin. “You like that.”

Levi’s name drops from your mouth, weighing with need. 

Levi breaks away to pepper your neck with kisses, nipping at the skin. His hand slips under the hem of your shorts, pressing his thumb into the flesh of your thighs. Your body twitches under his pressure and he chuckles. 

“Eager for something?”

You whine, breathless. 

Understanding your silent pleas, Levi pushes into the skin of your thighs, groaning as you buck against his bulge. “Very eager…” 

He pushes back a little to give you some air and your eyes peel open. 

A faint smile spreads across Levi’s lips. For someone so indifferent and perpetually unimpressed, it’s an endearing vision, and one that pools warmth between your legs. 

Levi’s hand climbs higher, coming into contact with your wet pussy. “Tch. No panties?”

You supply your response with a lidded gaze.

“You’ve made a mess already, brat. I haven’t even touched you there yet.”

He observes you for a moment, checking for any shred of hesitation “Yeah?”

You soak in his expression, heart fluttering at the tender look he’s giving you. Patient and calm, despite the primal need to touch each other deeply. 

“Please,” you say before he kisses you again. “Ah…Levi…” 

He presses a finger on your clit, rubbing in languid circles, slick dripping onto his fingertips. After one long heated kiss, he draws away, using his free hand to hook into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them off so fast, your vision spins.

Levi’s lowered himself between your legs, lightning flickering behind his grey eyes to be met with your bare, dripping pussy. He flits his gaze to yours, breath hot against your folds. “Beautiful. So messy, so wet…”

Desperate for contact, your body sinks along the couch, but Levi doesn’t touch you there yet. Instead, he says, “Did your boyfriend leave you that dissatisfied? He never saw his girlfriend for the fiend that she really is?”

It’s strange how everyone around you was aware of the disconnect between you and Colt. Friends and strangers seemed to view you two as an odd match, and you were clueless as to why.

“He could never keep up with you,” Levi continues. “I could always tell how bored you looked, how dry your energy was around him, like he was an obligation.”

He takes your hand then, tying your fingers with his in a firm yet delicate grip.

The gesture takes you aback, awakening a need you didn’t realize you had been searching for.

Intimacy. 

That’s what you and Colt had lost a long time ago, even when still together.

It’s illuminating. This entire time, your indifference had left you blind to what you truly wanted: feeling safe, feeling seen, feeling connected. 

While the sex you had this week was great, no man on Tinder was capable of feeding that need. And it was your neighbor who held the key this entire time. 

You squeeze his hand. “Levi…”

He smiles, thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I’m going to take care of my girl.”

The affection fills you like a mouthful of honey, so sweet, so tender, and something to savor. 

Slender fingers slide past your folds, and you sigh in bliss. They pump inside of you, slow and experimental. His serenity and pace are very much akin to his personality. Even in the brewing storm of ecstasy, Levi’s patient, playing you like an instrument with an intuitive touch. 

“Oh…Levi…” You can’t stop saying his name. Every ounce of your pleasure belongs to him. 

“Does my girl like that?”

You bristle, nodding your head.

“And…does my girl like this too?” 

Your breath hitches, thigh twitching at the drag of Levi’s tongue along your clit. 

A third finger presses into the sensitive spot against your walls, stretching you open, pain mixing with pleasure. 

“You like being full, don’t you?” All three fingers curl, tongue swipes against your clit again a few more times.

Biting your lip, you nod, unable to look away from Levi’s gaze. Intoxicated by his tranquility, in no rush to get his own fix, despite the strain in his voice. 

“You’re going to cum for me,” he says, the authority is distinct. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see you when I make you cum. And you’re going to always remember my touch.”

Your eyes blink, lidded and heavy, taking in a deep inhale.

Levi’s husks. “My girl knows best.”

The nickname is sugar-sweet in your ears, and you shiver. 

He works his fingers faster, licking your clit, building up the momentum. 

Your hand squeezes around his as you feel the intensity rise. 

Levi moves your hand, guiding you to press it flat against your lower stomach. He keeps his hand atop yours, together, applying more pressure there. 

Your confusion is surpassed by a sensation you’ve never felt before. “Oh…Levi…it’s—”

Levi swallows, eyes trained on yours, a desperation in his gaze, like he refuses to miss this moment. 

Your mouth hangs open wider as your walls clamp around Levi’s fingers, the pressure in your lower belly heightens, heralding the beginnings of a climax.

He breathes your name. “Cum for me.”

He presses both your hands down, while his fingers push something deep inside of you. The combined sensations shatter your resolve.

You cry out as something rushes forth, spraying Levi’s face and fingers, soaking his wrist and shirt. The orgasm flows out of you in a wave of satisfaction that you never knew was possible.

Every inch of your body twitches from the release, every drop of blood in your body running warm, and curling your toes. A kind of pleasure that had been waiting to be roused for so long.

Levi continues to pump his fingers inside of you to ease you back down to earth, as his tongue laps up the mess.

He hasn’t let go of your hand, and you don’t have the heart to let go either. 

A beat passes like this, slow and silent, without any pressure to interrupt the moment. You bask in it, the stillness, the quiet, and in Levi’s everlasting attention. And when he resurfaces, mouth and chin shining with moisture, his looks at you.

“So messy.” He smirks, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. 

A tease hangs off the edge of your lips. “I thought you didn’t like messes.”

“I don’t like filth,” comes his blunt response, but you hear the softness in his tone. “I don’t mind a mess like this. Not when it’s coming from you.”

Sweet and lewd, a beautiful blend that is distinctly your neighbor. 

He falls forward, mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss that a renewal of desire simmers. His mouth is hungry, yearning, desperate and you feel the return of his bulge between your legs. Regardless of how spent you feel, you lift your hips up for friction, aching to feel his dick inside of you. He breaks away. 

You meet Levi’s eyes and without saying a word, you both work together to undo his belt. He slides his pants and boxers down to his thighs, setting his cock free. 

You drink in the sight. Erect, flushed red at the tip, sizeable…your pussy flutters, wanting to be filled. You take the shaft, stroking lightly, peering up. 

Levi’s eyes fall shut for a moment, breathing stilted the closer your thumb gets to his tip. Precum drips onto your hand and Levi snatches up your hips and pulls you astride. 

With a final look, he lifts you up, sinking you onto his lap. 

The pressure is better than you could have imagined, pushing past your sore walls with a pulsing sting that fades when he’s fully sheathed.

“Oh…” he moans. “My girl’s pussy feels like a dream.”

“Levi, please…” you whimper, grinding on his lap. You grin as he clicks his tongue.

A hand smacks your backside. 

Levi bares his teeth, reeling you in to meet his eyes. “Be patient, brat, or I’ll leave you like this all night.”

You whine and that gets you another smack to the ass.

Despite the bite in his tone, Levi revels in taunting you. “Don’t think I’m serious? We can stay like this. My dick nestled deep into your pussy that you’ll be dripping all over my lap before I make a move.”

You’d be remiss to say that you don’t enjoy his taunting. If Levi lives to torture, you’d gladly accept. But that doesn’t stop you from begging. “Levi…please. I want you to fuck me.”

You bristle, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. Biting back a moan, you wait with thinly-veiled patience.

But Levi’s composure is slipping too, regardless of his bluff. “Don’t look away. I’m going to fuck you like this.”

Arms wrap around Levi’s neck and hands hook onto the flesh of your thighs. 

Levi’s hips buck up, plunging himself in a deep thrust. 

He grunts with every snap of his hips, never tearing his gaze from your face, wanting to imprint your expression along his vision. 

Every thrust strokes the sensitive spot in your walls, firing every nerve that has you seeing stars. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Levi breathes, fucking into you in a steady tempo. 

Your eyes are trained on him, bringing your hand to your mouth, wetting your fingertips. As ordered, you don’t look away, catching the clench in his jaw at your lewd display. Lowering your hand, you touch your clit, gasping at the added pleasure. 

“Levi…” you moan. 

Levi’s licks his lips, thrusts are consistent though they’re becoming shaky. “Fuck…that’s—who’s fucking you.”

“You, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes flit down, watching your fingers rub yourself while his cock splits you open. His gaze crawls back up to meet yours. “I’m going to cum in your pussy. I’m going to make it mine.”

A sharp thrust has you nodding your head furiously. “Yes—please—I want to feel you.” 

Silence ensues, but nothing else needs to be said. The exchange of your bodies and sounds are enough to fill the quiet, enough to convey how connected and safe you feel. The first time in ages.

You cum for the second time; fingers tremble from the overstimulation. 

Levi’s thrusts lose their rhythm. He grabs onto you tighter, imprints bruising your flesh. A few more sharp snaps of his hips and he cums inside of you, releasing a hearty moan. 

The world falls silent again, save for the heavy breathing. 

You brush away his bangs clinging to his forehead, aroused to see your neighbor in such a state. 

“You okay?” he sighs, eyes finding yours, hand finding your jaw. 

You nod, allowing the afterglow to take control. Unable to stop yourself, you lean closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his. 

Levi pulls you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder with arms holding you in a protective embrace. 

Time passes but you’re not aware of that. Too comfortable, nestling your head against Levi’s neck. You hold him tighter, and he reciprocates, strong arms keeping you close. 

Eventually, you slide off of him, inwardly relishing at his seed gushing out of you. 

You give him space as he drags his pants back on, but leaves the belt undone. 

On wobbly feet, you find your shorts discarded by the tray of tea that has gone cold.

Your shorts fall back to the coffee table, the living room jostling in your vision. “What—?”

Levi pats your bare ass, keeping a secure hold of you over his shoulder. “You don’t need those tonight.” He steps away from the couch, turning around. “I'm just getting started with you."

“Where are we going?” you say.

Levi comes to a still. “Your bedroom. Unless you want me to take you to mine?” He motions to the door. “Of course, our neighbors will get a glimpse of your ass, but if you prefer—”

You squirm, shaking your head. “No, no—my room is perfect!” Although that thought doesn’t bother you either. For now, you pack it away, pleased to spend your evening with Levi.  

Spinning a heel, Levi carries you down the hall. “Good answer.” ...

A few months later…

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table. You reach for it, careful not to spill the tea Levi’s prepared for you. 

Opening up the new notification, you scoff. 

At your side, Levi takes a sip of his mug, curious and nonchalant. “Another dick pic?”

Courtesy of Eren Jaeger. 

You had abandoned Tinder a long time ago, having lost interest after getting closer to Levi. It didn’t take you long to delete your profile as you settled in a comfortable new routine with your neighbor. 

The connection between you two was gradual. After your break-up, you didn’t want to rush into anything, and Levi was fine with the slower pace. Neither of you were seeing other people, and while you two had yet to label anything, you were practically exclusive.

During the week, he’d drop by for dinner if he wasn’t out of town for business. And on Saturday evenings, you’d be over at his place where he’d make tea, preparing it how you liked.

And of course, the sex never got old. It was phenomenal every time.

Pieck and Ymir were surprised, hardly knowing anything about your neighbor beforehand, but they were happy for you nonetheless, and even got along well with Levi. 

You barely gave the ghosts of Tinder’s past enough thought. 

You never heard from Porco after that one time. Reiner was back where he lived and sent you a few pictures of his dog before all communication stopped.  Connie had invited you to watch his band play and after you told him you were seeing someone, he extended the invite to Levi as well. 

Jean also took it in stride, a gentleman to the core. Pieck and Ymir were surprised that you let him go, but the chemistry wasn’t quite there like it was with Levi.  

Zeke was a ghost most of the time, only popping in to send you lewd text messages that you had him blocked. Until weeks later, he’d reach out again via a new number. 

And then there was Eren, who was just beyond shameless that even Levi found his efforts humorous.

Try-hard, was Levi’s word of choice after you had regaled him with your misadventures on the dating app.

Much like Zeke, Eren would reach out after a period of crickets, and oftentimes with a nude picture. You had ignored him for while, and finally told him you were talking to someone else, to which he gave you an egotistical response.

Sure, let me know when that’s over ;)

“I think I’m going to change my number now.” You delete the message and block him this time. 

Levi wraps an arm around you, kissing your temple. “If you want to, go for it. Or if you want, I'll get rid of that brat for you."

You snuggle closer to him, endeared with his integrity even when it's a threat against Eren's life. You really like Levi. “For his sake, I’ll just change my number.”

There’s another buzz and this time it’s Levi’s phone.

You push off as he picks it up and types a quick message. Likely his colleagues. “Is it important?” you say.

Levi sets it back down, taking you in his arm again. “No. Hange asked if I wanted to catch a movie with them and Erwin tonight, and I said I was with my girlfriend.”

Your heart skips a beat, and yet Levi takes a long sip of his tea, eyes on the TV playing. 

“I’m your girlfriend?”

Levi shifts to look at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah.” It’s simple and short. 

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you supply, hope brightening your voice. 

The corner of Levi’s lips curl. “Yeah.”

Since the start, everything was so easy with Levi. Simple and peaceful. Even with a routine, there was no stagnancy. Each day was like a new one with him. 

You hadn’t thought of Colt in a while, and whenever he’d creep into your mind, it was with a fondness of a past, you were happy to have moved on from. 

Hindsight told you that change would be positive. And hindsight told you that Levi’s right, change won’t kill you.

With nothing else to add, you press against your boyfriend’s side, every part of you fulfilled again.  The End ! ◡̈ 

That's the end of our Tinder journey lol! Thank you for reading!!! 🩵 ☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #Levi smut #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #snk #mochi-writings #attack on titan #dtf only series

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 13

✩°｡ ⋆ seize your happiness

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, angst, hurt/comfort

notes: i know i said this chapter will be the last... but apparently i still have a lot to say so... :') don't worry. chapter 14 will be the last chapter for real. pls bear with the angst one more time! and this turned out as a whopping 5k too oops

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter twelve : the most twisted curse <- previous ✩ next -> last chapter : to the one i love

What does happiness mean to you now?

When you finally woke up from your long dream and saw Megumi, you thought you were the happiest because for so long, you defined being with him was enough to make you forget all the shit you had been through in this horrible life.

"Sena...?" You heard him before you saw him. His voice cut through the blur that veiled your vision and you could barely discern his figure.

Megumi immediately got a hold of your arm, eyes wildly focusing on yours as you fluttered your eyes open. And when you blinked, his voice almost broke― "Sena!"

You felt rigid, like a broken doll. Megumi grasped your left hand tightly in his, intertwining your fingers.

"You woke up..." he muttered with a strained, choked voice. He was still out of focus but you could hear him very well. "You really woke up... Thank god..."

And through his voice, you recognize pain. Several things ran through your mind then. Why is he here? Is he safe?

What about Kurusu Hana?

Yet then all of them didn't seem to matter. He is here. Whatever happened, he is really here. He didn't leave you after all.

Still, a part of you suddenly harbored suspicions that he might abandon you once again, and so you didn't dare to hope, and you were even convinced of it when you felt a lump in your throat—

You clawed on the skin of your neck in utter panic when you found that no sound came out of your vocal chords. Megumi obviously noticed your distress― "Hey, what is it? What do you feel―?"

But then you were gasping for air and Megumi didn't think anymore. He hit the nurses' call button and held you as you trashed on the bed. "Sena, hold on―hold on! I've called the doctor! You're going to be okay, you hear me?"

The heart monitor connected to you was blaring, your whole body was now shaking, and you turned to him helplessly like a fish out of water, mouth gaping to let out any sound but unable to. You couldn't speak― it felt as if someone had stolen your voice and tightened a vice around your throat.

In that moment, Megumi caught the sheer terror in your eyes, and he bent over to pull you in an embrace. "I'm here. I'm here. Focus on me. Let's take a deep breath together―"

He coached your breathing, and gradually, you started to calm down. The heart monitor in your room no longer blared like a siren, and your fingers clung to his shirt with a grip stronger than you intended.

"You're okay..." Megumi whispered in your ear, disregarding his own thundering heartbeat by reassuring you. "You hear me, Sena? You're going to be alright."

Right in this moment, nothing else mattered. You got him back. And he was here, with you. You were certain you had never felt such a profound mix of happiness and relief in your entire life.

The doctor and several nurses then swarmed the room and took over to check on you. Dizziness washed over you—their voices merging into a cacophony that made your feel exhausted, and before you knew it you fell back asleep.

. . .

"After experiencing trauma, it's not uncommon for a patient to develop a post-traumatic mutism," the doctor explained, and Megumi was listening intently. "In most cases, the patient will regain their ability to speak after attending several therapy sessions, so you don't need to worry, sir."

Megumi let out a long sigh. "Is there any long-term side effects from this?"

"No. If the patient made full recovery, then I'd say there's a low chance of any further complications."

Once the doctor left the room, Megumi resumed his post next to your bedside once again, observing your sleeping face.

His heart broke under the weight of the reality laid to him. You had endured a trauma so severe after your duel with Naoya it left you mute. Ultimately, he saw it as a reflection of his own failure to protect you too―he was supposed to be the one to go against him. And yet, you...

Seeing you struggle to breathe like that was terrifying. As your chest heaved with every breath, Megumi felt a slight relief wash over him.

At least you're now truly safe. At least... nothing more can harm you here.

Megumi is always here.

Days after you first regained consciousness were slow and idyllic, and Megumi was always ready to attend to your every need. Though you supposed that he had to, as your guardian, since you had no one left.

With your voice still not returning, communicating with him proved to be a little challenging.

"Do you want some water?" he inquired, approaching with a glass and the pitcher in hand. You shifted your gaze away from the boring magazine the hospital had supplied and nodded.

"Here." Megumi handed you the glass and you took slow sips, before fixing your eyes on him.

It's been days. But neither of you had talked about what happened. Before now, the last you'd seen Megumi was when he left you during Zen'in's last hearing, when every bit of your dirty secret was exposed before him.

The memory of that day still made you shiver. The absolute hopelessness you felt, the way Megumi looked at you, his cutting words―

"Hey, Sena―" Megumi's got a grip on your shoulders, face contorting in worry. "What's wrong?"

You looked right into his dark green eyes, and saw nothing but concern. None of the Megumi who was so ready to cut all ties with you back then.

You were flattered that he was here, but still, you needed answers.

Reaching out for the notebook and pen Megumi had gotten you for your temporary communication, you scribbled your burning question.

Why are you here?

Megumi wouldn't admit it, but his heart sank upon reading your inquiry. The fact that you felt the need to ask it was just heartbreaking.

"You were badly injured. How can I not be here?" he responded, shoulder sagged. "I should be the one asking you―how could you have gone to Zen'in Naoya in the first place?"

Then it dawned to you. Your letter. He dropped everything to get you.

I have to end him with my own hands.

"Still! That's not―!" Megumi almost raised his voice before he caught himself. "That's not any reason for you to face him in a duel!"

He would have gone after you if I didn't.

"That's what should have been. You should've let him gone after me." There was something inside him that was this close from bursting and he was trying his hardest so it wouldn't. "At any given chance, you should've prioritized your safety first. And back then, even I―!"

I've left you. Megumi let out a sharp breath and looked away. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

You blinked at him, getting a sense of what he meant, and reached for your pen again.

I also did it for myself. He murdered my mom. I just wanted to end it with him.

"What do you― why do you have to―?!"

In that moment, Megumi felt as if he had been slapped in the face. He made you think that way. It was dreadful that you chose that self-destructive path because these unfortunate chains of events.

He was still grappling with the overwhelming guilt when you presented him with your next question.

Aren't we getting a divorce?

"No." His response was swift and resolute, his gaze boring straight into you. "Never."

You looked at him questioningly because you could still vividly recall the divorce papers you tearfully signed and left with Kurusu Hana. And seeing your confusion, Megumi thought he had to set it straight.

"It's my fault," he began. "I shouldn't have― I shouldn't have left you back then. And I should've never left you with the divorce papers. I wasn't in the right mind."

You looked down, pondering his words. Sure, he wasn't in the right mind―but at one point, that was what he wanted.

It still made you a bit uncomfortable.

Megumi held your shoulders again, sincere eyes piercing into your heart. "I regret it all. I really do. If I could turn back the time, I wouldn't leave you as I did."

Your eyes widened, wonderstruck, when a tear trickled down his cheek.

"You stupid." He brought you into his arms then, voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry― I'm sorry for making you feel that you are alone. I'm sorry for leaving you. But even so, please, do not ever, ever put yourself in that kind of danger again. If something happens to you, I―"

His body was now trembling, and you put your hands around him. "How... could you scare me like that...? H-how could you just leave me with that letter... and tell me not to find you? Don't you know how frightened I was...?"

You didn't really know what you were feeling right now, feeling the dampness in your shoulder as he cried for you. Touched, sad, happy―all these emotions swirled within you at the same time. But still, the irrefutable truth was...

You are in love with this man. You were sure of it.

But...

"Me...gumi..."

Almost faint, but he heard it. Your voice that he had missed so much. Megumi pulled away from you, searching your face, and greeted by your soft smile.

You reached out for him and wiped his tears with your thumb. "Don't... cry..."

"Ah..." He pulled you into his embrace again, this time tighter. He buried his face in your neck, the ache in his chest almost made him burst as he shook with tears. "I'm so... so glad...! Sena, I―I'm really glad you're s-safe..."

And you are glad that he is too. That he is this concerned about you. That he loves you still.

. . .

And in the weeks that followed, you really thought you could sweep it under the rug and forget everything.

You thought that you wouldn't want nothing more now that he was back to you, as yours. You thought you'd be content with everything, even if you had to pick up the shattered remains.

But that wasn't the case. Not really.

Because every now and then, you still remembered how you betrayed him, and also the searing ache of heartbreak of when he left you.

...and so long as you still felt this way, you thought, it would be hard for you to be truly live the happy life your mother had wished for you.

Something about you had changed.

Megumi supposed it was the effect of the trauma you had experienced, and so he never brought it up―it wouldn't be fair to compare the current you with the you before the incident.

You two were back to living in his apartment after you were discharged. Your voice had come back, although sometimes you still experienced trouble in speaking. But despite it all, Megumi didn't really care, he was ready to weather it all with you.

His sense of guilt intensified whenever he caught you touching your throat. Thoughts like "I should've been there." or "I should have never let her so unprotected" popped up in his head more often than he would have liked.

Both of you had gone back to the way it was supposed to be. Neither of you should have any prolonged worries... After all, Zen'in fiasco, from the unethical mass massacre and Naoya's doing afterwards, had been sorted out by Gojo― both of you were essentially free of them now.

So... why do you still look like you are on edge?

"I'll make breakfast today," he said on one morning after waking up. "Stay on the bed longer. I'll call you when it's ready."

You still looked positively sleepy as you pulled up the covers to your face and it warmed his heart. You were adorable, yawning and mumbling, "Thank you, Megumi."

He openly smiled, and went to the kitchen. A simple breakfast of beef and bacon would do, he concluded, and that was what he did. Afterwards, he did call and lead you to have breakfast with him.

You were still rubbing sleep off your eyes when he said it―

"Look, it's done―"

Suddenly you stiffened. Perhaps you were hypersensitive because it was still morning, but the way he said it reminded you of his words from that day.

“It’s done. We’re done. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

You tried not to let it show, as you sat in front of him. You really did, because Megumi seemed particularly happy this morning, you couldn't bear to burst his bubble.

"I personally prefer scrambled eggs over sunny side up, so that's what I made," he explained, motioning towards the plate with two servings of scrambled eggs with hints of a grimace. "Are you okay with it? Do you want me to make something else for you?"

"Ah, no, no... it's fine," you replied almost instantly, forcing a smile. "Thank you."

His lips curved into a gentle smile as he said, "You're welcome. Let me get that for you."

And that was when it happened. His hand brushed against yours―and in response, you retracted your hand away too quickly as if scalded.

Megumi was stunned. "Sena...?"

He looked at you, and noticed the faint tremor that passed through your body. In that moment, everything around him crashed once again.

Why?

"Are you..." he was almost in disbelief saying it. "...afraid of me?"

"Megumi― sorry," you blurted out, not looking at him. "I―I don't feel too well. I'll have breakfast later... I'll go lie down for a bit."

Before Megumi could respond, you had already risen and exited the dining room. Adding to the weight on his already heavy heart, you didn't head to your shared bedroom but instead, to your old bedroom from before you moved in with him.

Suddenly he felt hollow. Memories of the past months flooded into his mind like a fast-paced train wreck.

Leaving you. No contact at all. Finding you in that pool of blood.

Everything that happened then, both of you couldn't possibly pretend that any of them didn't exist. At least, not anymore.

It has been awkward few days ever since then.

This gnawing feeling inside you― the ache, it's still there. The guilt. The nightmare. It's still there. You just want all of them to disappear.

You love Megumi and you want nothing more than being with him. But at the same time, you don't want to be with him― not like this.

They said let bygones be bygones, but it was impossible for you to pretend you were content and everything was fine while you were haunted by the nightmares of the day you made that deal with Gojo and Megumi leaving you with nothing to say for yourself.

To be happy, you need a clean slate. Or at least a time for yourself to think it over.

And so you reflected hard on yourself. What you wanted for yourself, what you thought was best for both of you.

You felt bad for Megumi too. He was visibly shaken ever since that day, and yet you were only there, feeling numb and at a loss for words, only able to mutter nothing more than apologies.

In the end, it boils down to this. You couldn't run from it any longer. Even though it'd most definitely bring both of you pain and sadness, you very well know that if you survived this, then...

"Megumi, I'm sorry for... the other day."

A week later, on that particular evening, he had just returned from headquarters and you met him at the living room.

Megumi looked startled, before flashing you a warm smile. "Ah, that again? Don't worry, Sena. It's fine." Glancing at the clock, he turned back to you. "Oh, have you eaten yet? I bought takeout on the way home."

His smile looked off. You tried to push the uncomfortable feeling in your chest away.

You steeled yourself and looked at him right in the eyes. "Megumi, I... I want to talk to you. Can you... sit here with me?"

It was hard to pull this on him. Really, really hard. But you swallowed the weight and bit down your lip when he took a seat in front of you.

"What is it?" he inquired with concern. "Don't be that tense... you can talk to me about it, alright?"

So be it then.

"I... think we should consider having a divorce."

Megumi never imagined he would find himself confronted with this very question a second time.

His first reaction was a blink. Then his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. And then a frown, before he exhaled sharply―

"Why?" his voice came out way harsher than he intended. For the life of him, he didn't understand why. He felt hurt. So hurt, in fact, you had no idea. "What is it that you're feeling this time? Why did you never tell me before this?"

"I―" Your voice faltered, caught off guard, yet your sincere eyes remained steady. "I'll tell you now."

Megumi could see how strained you were. You were clearly trying hard to keep yourself together. He wanted to hug you, but not before you explained yourself.

"Megumi, first of all... I want you to know that I love you." Your voice began to tremble. "I love you... and I'm sorry for using you and taking advantage of your feelings. And I'm happy being with you... That hasn't changed."

"I know it already." He clenched his fists tightly, wiling the pounding of his heart at bay. "Then why―"

"I feel like we've been avoiding this, I don't know―I'm sorry. In the end, it's more of a me thing―it's not your fault at all."

Megumi closed his eyes, suddenly he felt overwhelmed by it all.

"This guilt I've been carrying with me... and you..." you took a sharp intake of breath. "Maybe something is wrong with me― I kept telling myself that now you're with me and everything will be okay... I tried to convince myself, but then I can't forget the way you look on that day―"

"If it's that, then I'm sorry―"

"No," you quickly interjected. "You had every right to be angry. I don't blame you for that, Megumi. I'm not upset, not anymore... the problem is... it doesn't make it any less hurt."

Those words suddenly seemed to ring in his ears.

A sob broke finally through your lips. "And s-so long as I'm still not over all of this... then I-I don't think I... ―we... can be truly happy together."

God, why must your fate be this complicated?

Your unholy matrimony was not expected but falling in love was a blessing, and still, you ended up hurting each other. If you still feel hurt, then the same also goes for him―he too still carries the guilt for letting you face Naoya alone, regardless of how the circumstances justified his actions.

Megumi gritted his teeth in frustration. "And so, you suggest that we're better off having a divorce?"

You cried a little harder, unable to give him an answer.

“Can’t I do anything to make it better for you?” Megumi felt like a knife just lodged itself in his chest as he looked at your tear-streaked face. “I’ll do anything—everything you want me to do, just not this—Sena, please—”

“I… w-want to be happy, Megumi,” you managed to say amidst tears. “As much as I love you… I also want to love myself too… just the w-way my mother wanted me to.”

His heart was crushed, hearing you.

“I want us… to m-meet again in better circumstances,” you forced out the words. “With no one to force us or make us choose anything… a day w-when… we can freely choose each other…”

“I’ll always choose you.” Megumi’s voice wavered as he held back his own tears. “You don’t need to wait for that because I always will.”

A tearful smile formed in your lips in response. “Thank you, but I just… want more t-time… for myself, Megumi. To sort my life—my f-feelings... and everything else out.”

He let out a grunt, as the first of his tears slid down his cheek, before he squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hand. Pain throbbed in his head and chest. It was too much.

“Do you…” is this it? is this how it ends? “Can you… at least tell me… what you’re going to do from now on?”

Before, when he asked you this, you had no answer for yourself. But this time, you didn’t flinch.

“I want to go back to Kyoto,” you immediately replied. “I… want to start anew there. And honestly… I don't want to continue doing jujutsu any longer so... I think I’ll start a new business to get by.”

A new start. Leaving jujutsu sorcery behind. That life honestly sounds so nice to Megumi’s ears too he was tempted to follow your footsteps.

“That’s good.” His voice was thick and heavy, and you were on the verge of sobbing once again. “That’s… really neat..."

He didn't want this. He couldn't bear to let you go. He was desperate to find a way to make you stay with him.

"Is this... really, truly what you want, Sena?"

You sniffled. "...Yes."

It seemed as though the knife in his chest had been twisted and made his insides bleed. He still couldn't make sense of it. His vision kept blurring with tears.

But ultimately... you have to be happy. After all of shitshows in this screwed up life you two share... you deserve to be happy the most.

It was difficult for him, it pierced through the most tender part within him to utter these words—

"Then... let's do it. If it's want you want and you're sure of it... then I'm willing to let you go." Lies. All of them. "Just… —please just be well. Don’t get sick, don’t stay up too late, and don’t push yourself too hard—”

Your sniffles turned into sobs.

“And— know that…” Megumi willed himself so that he wouldn’t break down in front of you completely, taking a deep breath. “I want only the best for you. I love you— that’s why.”

You were sobbing again then, utterly heartbroken. You felt really bad, and yet you knew this was necessary.

As your parting words, you just wanted him to know—

"Megumi... f-for everything these past eight months… thank you," you managed to say, your voice choked with tears. "I’ve been happy with you… and I... I don’t regret meeting you even for a moment."

The knowledge that you did feel that way was like a consolation for him. Megumi was thankful too that he had met you.

. . .

. . .

. . .

And just like that, in that winter, your divorce was finalized, and you moved to Kyoto.

Six months later

The idea of a fresh start seemed appealing. Living in Tokyo had become suffocating. She reckoned it was finally time to move forward and put everything to rest.

“Oh, Hana-chan! Where are you going?”

Kurusu Hana put her duffel bag on the floor, looking back to find an elderly woman—her neighbor in this apartment building, as she locked the door to her unit one last time.

“Ah, granny,” she greeted with a friendly smile. “You aren’t usually awake this early.”

“Nevermind that— are you moving out, Hana-chan?”

“Oh yeah… Granny, haven’t you heard? The landlady is about to double the pay rent. It’s too much for this shabby place. I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“Really?! That conniving woman… I’ll talk to my husband and find another place soon too!”

“Hehe, please do.”

“Best of luck for you, Hana-chan.” The granny said. “I’ll miss having hotpots with you... You have been a really bright presence here.”

Something inside Hana lurched at her kind words. “Ah… me too, granny. Please take care of yourself too…”

Someone would miss her even when she was gone. This notion, simple as it was, once seemed impossible to Hana. Living all alone by herself all her life, she had grown accustomed to such thoughts.

And in her first time falling in love too… the man in question didn’t even return her feelings back.

But as they said… life goes on. Even when Megumi never looked at her way, then it just meant that they were never meant to be. She couldn’t wallow in this ridiculous one-sided love forever.

“Yosh! Hana, it’s okay! It’s going to be fine!”

As she stepped outside, she realized that summer was here already. And with that she was even convinced— with the new season came a new beginning, and this time, she was determined to find her own happiness.

“Ahh! It’s hot!”

Yuji stretched his arms in the air, scrunching up his face as he had a look around him. “Kugisaki, do you have any idea where we’re going next? Seriously, I can’t with all this temples.”

Nobara threw him a dirty look. “You are so useless. The very least you can do is look at the maps.”

“Well, it’s too hot here! And these view of temples and shrines are giving me goosebumps—”

“Hey! What you said counts as blasphemy you know! Kyoto is cultural heritage!”

Yuji then looked around. “Come to think about it… Where’s Fushiguro? Wasn’t he with us after checking in the hotel just now?”

“Ah, he said he wanted to go out a bit before we go to the exorcism site… He didn’t say where though.”

“Wha? Wait, we can’t go without him!”

[Nov 21] Megumi: Sena, have you arrived safely? I hope you’re not having a rough time. If you do, you can tell me

[Nov 23] You: hi megumi! sorry for not replying—i’ve been so busy with moving in here, it’s been hectic. and yes, i’m good here! :)

[Nov 24] Megumi: That’s good then. Well, take care

[Dec 10] Megumi: I’ve heard there’s an earthquake in Kyoto. Are you alright?

[Dec 10] Megumi: If you see this… Please answer me. I’m worried

[Dec 10] You got 8 missed calls from Megumi

[Dec 10] Megumi: Are you hurt? I’m trying to find a bullet train ticket to Kyoto but none are available

[Dec 13] You: gosh i’m so sorry for answering now! it’s been chaotic. internet and electricity are affected by the damage :(

[Dec 13] You: but no worries! you don’t have to come here, megumi! i’m fine! i evacuated safely and my building is still standing!

[Dec 13] Megumi: That’s a relief… Do you need anything? I can get you some things. Bullet trains to Kyoto will run again tomorrow, I can go there

[Dec 13] You: no no! really, thanks, i’m totally okay! most of buildings here are earthquake-resistant so don’t worry!

[Dec 13] You: still, thank you for worrying about me, i really… really appreciate it

[Mar 15] Megumi: It's been a while. Have you been well?

[Mar 16] You: hiii megumi! haha, you don’t have to be that formal, really. it’s been good here. cherry blossoms have bloomed, they’re so pretty!

[Mar 16] You: what about you? are you busy these days?

You had left everything behind in Tokyo—your life as jujutsu sorcerer, tears, nightmares, and sadness, or as much of it as you possibly could, at the very least.

Starting over was hard. You almost regretted it several times especially when the lonely nights were too much for you, or when earthquake shook Kyoto and left you reeling.

But at the same time, it brought you satisfaction. When you successfully opened your own small cafe just last week, it felt like all your efforts had finally paid off.

It felt good to stand on your own two feet. To do things you want. With no one to dictate what you should do. By all means, this is the dream life you've wanted... you just wished that your mother could’ve seen this too.

Spending time for yourself has been healing. And life is far better here, but still...

You miss Megumi. How could you not, especially when he occasionally sent you a text? You were touched that he was still trying to stay in touch at all, and also how he showed his concern for your well-being.

But it was now May... and he hadn't replied to your text since March.

You tried to brush it off. After all you got the divorce for this very reason. You wanted to regain your sense of normalcy again— "normal" as in before everything went down with Zen'in mess.

But perhaps someday, when you're ready, if he would still have you... then maybe...

Brushing off your thoughts and maybe, longing, you left your phone to attend new patrons when the bell to your cafe jingled.

Unbeknownst to you, after unconsciously waiting for him this long, your phone buzzed and its screen lit up with new notifications—

[May 3] Megumi: Today, I'm in Kyoto

[May 3] Megumi: I miss you, Sena. I really do

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> last chapter : to the one i love

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some of you can't be tagged bc of the settings! :(

i'm so sorry for repeated mentions, it's not showing in the tags and i'm trying to fix it :(

#fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x oc #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk angst #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi angst #megumi fushiguro x reader #arranged marriage au #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #series: unholy matrimony

[pedgito]

hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!

author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5k

Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.

“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”

You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”

“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”

“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”

You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.

“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”

“A what?”

“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”

“Oh?”

You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.

“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”

“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.

They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.

“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“

“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.

“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”

You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”

“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”

“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.

Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.

Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.

“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”

“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”

You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”

“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”

“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”

Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.

Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.

“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.

“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.

Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.

“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.

You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”

Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”

“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.

“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.

“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”

Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.

“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”

“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.

“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”

It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.

“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.

Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.

Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“

“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”

“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.

“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”

Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”

“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.

“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”

Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“

“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”

Something tells you that's a lie.

“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”

“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”

“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”

You press further, “But?”

“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”

“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”

“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”

You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.

“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”

And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.

“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”

“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”

It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”

Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.

Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.

“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”

“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”

He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.

“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”

Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.

“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.

“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”

“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.

It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.

You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”

And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.

This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.

Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.

He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”

You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”

“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“

“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”

Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.

Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.

“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”

“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.

You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”

“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”

Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.

Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.

Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.

“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”

“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.

But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.

“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”

Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“

“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.

“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”

And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”

Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.

You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.

“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”

Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.

“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”

You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.

His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.

“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”

Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”

He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.

You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“

Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.

Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.

Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”

“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”

Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.

“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.

“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.

But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.

“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”

“Told him what?”

“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.

“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”

“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.

“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“

“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.

Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #my writing #1kfic

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I'm sick and tired of the lack of nuance on this website! Having a dream about your mate where he's naked and your butts touch and generally thinking about having sex with him all the time does not make you queer!!

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Because you like #doctorwho

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Obviously

#its very eda heavy because. yknow #doctor who

[deathbyyoongx]

everytime; chapter 6 — myg

╭ chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ...

╭ word count: 5k

╭ summary: Everyone knew Min Yoongi as the guy who wouldn't say no to a nice pair of tits. His cocky attitude and stunning looks made it hard for most girls to resist. And even though you would like to say you're not like the others in that aspect, you unfortunately happened to be his ex. But even though you despised his guts for the last 3 years or so, he somehow managed to find himself a way between your legs on one semi-drunk night.

╭ pairing: fuckboy!yoongi x ex!reader

╭ genre: smut, angst, bit of fluff, more smut

╭ warnings: enemies to fwb, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, jealous ex!jungkook, bestfriend!jimin, hate sex, yoongi has a degrading kink but so does yn, brat taming, hair pulling, spitting, slapping, hickeys, choking, unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!), creampie, praise kink, hand kink, possessive yoongi, sexual content ofc, mentions of drinking, ...

╭ author's note: this fic is inspired by the song everytime by ariana grande. I also recommend using the chrome extension InteractiveFics for a better reading experience ;)

I'm sorry my dear readers it took so long. My life has been so busy this summer, but I'll finally have some free time soon. Not fully satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3

08/09/2023

The inevitable happened. Jungkook was standing in front of your door, right here, right now. You knew ignoring him was a bad idea and this was bound to happen from the start if you kept avoiding him. It also didn’t help that he interrupted your little self-love session which involved you pleasuring yourself by the mere thought of Min Yoongi. You’ve become your greatest self-saboteur. You just kept rethinking that night you were at his house where you were too much of a pussy to make a move. The scenario of that morning where he was just on display for you, ready for you to get rid of his morning wood. But no, you didn’t dare. The words of Yoongi just echoed through your head. ‘You’re a lot of talk when you’re drunk, but sober you’re such a pussy.’ You hated the fact he was right. But, back to Jungkook, before you were getting even more worked up.

“Look, I wasn’t planning to come over,” Jungkook said with a pleading expression, looking very apologetic about the fact he was bothering you today, making you feel even worse about ignoring him. “But I had plans with Joon and since you live right next to him, I just wanted to check on you for a second.”

No matter what happened between you and Jungkook, you could never be mad at him. You’ve known him for some time now, and you just knew how sweet that boy was. Whenever you’d text him in need, there he was. Whenever you wanted advice, a hug, or just a good laugh, there he was in front of your door. And that’s why you couldn’t break his heart again. You just knew how disappointed and heartbroken he’d become if he’d known about your little affair with Yoongi. You didn’t owe him anything, you knew that. You also knew, that the longer you postponed telling him, the worse he’d react. But every time you wanted to tell him, your heart blocked you off. “That’s sweet Jungkook, I’m fine though.”

“You've been distant, I barely hear from you anymore. Did I do something wrong?” Suddenly, you felt really bad about ignoring Jungkook as soon as he asked that.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy lately.” Oh, and busy you were, but for all the wrong reasons.

“With the move probably?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, you have finally packed out all of your stuff, but it also wasn't the complete truth. But as long as you didn't lie, it didn't make you feel too bad. “Sorry if I made you think I forgot about you.���

“It's fine, u know I can't be mad at you.” Likewise. “Maybe I got too worked up over nothing.” Jungkook stayed quiet for a second. “If you want, I can ask Namjoon if you could join us. It has been a while since we’ve hung out.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jungkook’s suggestion. “That's sweet, but I'm a bit tired.” And very horny cause you interrupted my little fantasy of Yoongi. “But I’ll text you to hang out as soon as possible, okay? I promise.” You held out your pinky finger to enhance your promise, waiting for him to link his with yours. 

Jungkook smiled, teeth showing as well. You’ve been keeping promises like this ever since college. “Alright then.” He said while he linked his pinky with yours. “See you later.” After your wholesome goodbye with Jungkook, it was time to continue your sinful ‘fingerpainting’ session again if you wanted to function for the rest of the evening. Because, damn, did the idea of Yoongi drive you insane. But the moment you spread your legs again, that dreadful message of that girl popped back in your head, making you cancel all plans you had to finger yourself at the thought of that fuckboy. Remember that name Eunha? Yes, we all do. One thing led to another and now you were looking up her profile by searching through Yoongi’s followers. You hated her already. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, but you saw her feed was full of pictures of her and Yoongi. “Argh-“ You groaned out loud out of frustration. How could you compare to these beauties? You rarely felt insecure, but when it came to Yoongi? Damn, it’s as if confidence never crossed your path. The mere thought of Yoongi spending another night with another girl made you groan out loud out of resentment. You just kept telling yourself: ‘You know he’s a fuckboy, you shouldn’t obsess over this’. You were putting yourself in this situation. But the feeling of him wanting you just was too addictive. You couldn’t even differentiate the feeling of lust and love anymore around him. You just knew one thing for sure, you wanted him. That’s it. There was only one rational thing left to do now. Send him a nude. After some awkward posing half-naked in front of your full-body mirror, only wearing some black lace panties, you finally took a picture you were more than satisfied with. A proud smirk formed on your lips as you sent the picture to him with the caption ‘so long till Friday :(’.

Sent.

Where had your rational thinking gone whenever it came to Yoongi? You wouldn’t have done this for any other guy, but him? That man just made you do irrational things. You pulled on an oversized shirt as you just continued to scroll down Instagram, further stalking the girls that you saw tagged Yoongi in their posts. Not only the fact that there were other pretty girls that we’re fucking Yoongi was bothering you, but also the fact that it was so fucking many. This was just bound to happen. A hot successful single man in his twenties that loved to fuck around and was also good at fucking around? Of course girls would scurry to him like hungry rats. Maybe you shouldn’t think of those girls as rats, you bet they were lovely girls that, like you, couldn’t resist the charms of Mister Min Yoongi. This was your jealousy talking, but why were you so jealous…?

[21:06] Yoongi: Come over

The notification of Yoongi’s message popped up on your screen like a sign from above. You really wanted to come over, but you need to toy with him was even bigger. Plus, you were a bit irritated by scrolling through all those girls’ Instagram accounts, so no way in hell were you going to give in that easily.

[21:07] y/n: why would I head over to your house at this hour? It’s so dark out.

[21:07] Yoongi: you’re right

[21:08] Yoongi: on my way

Wait, what?!

Was he…really planning to come over? His text made you jump out of your seat and head as quickly as possible to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were all sweaty and stinky from work, no way that you could let him see or smell you like this. It took you an impressive 15 minutes to get ready, almost a new record. So there you were, casually sitting on your couch, acting as if you were not expecting anyone to ring the doorbell anytime soon.

Ding dong

An instantaneous smile formed on your lips, slapping yourself on the face to get rid of it as you jumped out of your seat. You gave yourself a last glance at the TV reflection, just to make sure you looked presentable. You fixed your hair and opened the front door, revealing a handsome-looking Yoongi, per usual. “Hi Yoon-” But the sudden feeling of his lips on yours interrupted your greeting. 

He gently pushed you inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re such a tease.” He whispered in between kisses. His touch was gentle as if he was savouring every taste, this time not planning on another night of just talking. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gently teasing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. No time could be wasted as your desires had been suppressed by your cowardness last night. You needed him now. You led Yoongi to your bedroom, a trail of stumbling over one another as you just couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. It became apparent neither of you were planning to take it slow by the way you were tucking on each other’s clothing, desperate to take them off this instant. In a swift motion, Yoongi took off your shirt, making him smirk at the sight of those familiar black-laced panties. He pushed you onto the bed before taking off his shirt as well, revealing his lean body and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your eyes travelled from his face to his neck, chest, and abs until they stopped as his ever-growing erection that was desperately waiting to be released from his jeans. He noticed your staring, making him say. “This is all yours.”

He hovered over you, pushing you further on the bed as his lips followed yours. “My girl got needy for my cock, huh?” 

“Just a cock, to be honest.” You were really not into the whole ‘I’m going to stroke his ego even further’, not because you didn’t want to necessarily, but because you were a whore for him putting you in your place.

“You say that, but I bet you only sent that picture to me, didn’t you?” You were quiet, which made your answer all too obvious. “That’s what I thought.” Yoongi pulled back for a second, taking his time to admire your body which he can’t seem to get enough of. The way the lingerie complimented your curves, looking too pretty to take off. “You never feel to amaze me, damn-” You felt your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, making him smirk out of satisfaction. “Getting shy, huh? That’s how I know my girl.” He whispered in a husky tone before his lips met your neck. 

Yoongi’s lips on your neck made you shiver, holding onto his shoulders for support. “No hickeys please, I have to work tomorrow.”

His hands travelled towards your core, gently rubbing against the already wet cloth in a teasing manner. “I’ll try.” He said before kissing you again, feeling him smirk against your lips. “I’m almost flattered how worked up you get from me.” He moved the slip of your panty to the side, his fingers finding their way to your soaked entrance. He glided his middle finger between your folds, using your own wetness as lubrication as he gently applied pressure on your sweet spot. A small whimper left your lips as your hands tightened themselves around Yoongi’s upper arms, making you realize how buffed he had gotten over the years. His middle and index finger hugged around your clit, slowly and teasingly circling around it, making it hard for you not to slip out a few moans. While your eyes were closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure, Yoongi's, however, were fixed on you as if he were studying you. Adjusting his every move by the way you reacted to it, unconsciously remembering how you like it. The way his hardness was pressed against his jeans made it almost seem like it was going to tear any second now, but how couldn’t he? Seeing you desperate for his touch was one of his biggest turn-ons, but there was one small thing leaving him not fully satisfied. “You can be louder than that.” Yoongi whispered in your ear, the tone of his voice low with a slight rasp. “I want to hear you.”

“I have thin walls.” You let out, gasping for air due to you covering your mouth to keep yourself down.

“Namjoon will not care.” Yoongi purred as he increased his pace, making it even harder for you to control yourself. He knew your neighbour and mutual friend liked to mess around himself, but that wasn’t the problem…  

“Jungkook’s visiting him.” You said without thinking twice., almost regretting it instantly after those words spilled from your mouth.

“Uhu.” He said sternly, removing his hand from your precious core as the air was getting filled with anticipation. “In that case.” Yoongi unbuckled his belt, pulling it off his waist in a swift motion. “Give me your hands.” Without putting much thought behind it, you did as you were told as you held your hands in front of you. With a firm grip, Yoongi grabbed your wrists and started wrapping his belt around it, tying your hands to the headboard of your bed. Oh no…His fingertips were brushing down at the side of your legs, finding his way back to your most intimate area, carefully sliding down your panties. He felt empowered by your arousal, your cunt glistening from excitement. His lips followed suit, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your thighs before his tongue traced the slit of your hole. A small quiver left your lips as he pressed just the right amount of pressure on your clit, followed by short flicks. The world around you faded away as Yoongi focused solely on your pleasure, and you could tell he was trying to make a point by touching you with slow and teasing movements, making it hard for you not to whine out of sheer desperation. 

“Yoongi, please-” You softly moaned, feeling rather unsatisfied by the minimum fulfillment he was giving you. Yoongi, however, did not make a sound as he continued teasing you. Every time you expected him to apply more pressure or increase the pace, he pulled his tongue back, and it almost felt as if you could feel his smirk against you. Due to Yoongi’s solution to make you unable to muffle your moans, the silence of the room was getting filled by your desperation. A whimper, a moan, and eventually a cuss in a mixture of Yoongi’s name slipped your lips. “Fuck-” The pleasure intensified, building an undeniable tension that hung in the air, aching to be released. Slow but surely, Yoongi did give in to your needs, making you want to grab onto the bed sheets but being unable to. The way his tongue rolled on your sensitive nub, not only added to your pleasure but made his even more desperate. You became a moaning frustrated mess, every flick of Yoongi’s tongue feeling like a tease. “Just make me come, please-” You cried, hopelessly waiting for your sweet release. “Please-” Tears from desperation rolled down your face in a mix with your mascara, a sight Yoongi loved to see. 

Yoongi sat back up straight, wiping your wetness from his underlip. He looked at you with full earnestness, smirking at the state of your body out of amusement, a hint of sadism in his eyes. “Beg for it, tell me how much you want it.” He said in full seriousness, his eyes shimmering with pure lust and desire. His fingers were tracing the entrance from your folds, gently applying pleasure at the most sacred part. “Loud enough for me to hear it.” He smirked again.

“Yoongi-ah-“ He took your clit between his fingers again, using a quick circular motion to receive a reaction from you. “Please, please, please-” smirking at the tears mixed with your mascara rolling down your face. “I need you to make me come. You can do whatever you want with me, but just make me come.” With every move, you felt yourself growing closer, letting out another loud whine as he abruptly removed his fingers from you. You watched Yoongi lick his fingers as if you were a delicacy before he started unzipping his jeans for his own comfort. “Yoongi-” You called, rubbing your legs together to feel some sort of release.

After Yoongi took his jeans off, his boxers were the only thing away from revealing himself. “I know baby, I know.” He placed his hands on your thighs again, spreading your legs again, preventing you from continuing to self-pleasure yourself. “Does my girl want to cum?” Yoongi’s fingers softly caressed your slit, driving you even more horny and insane. A moan that sounded like a yes left your lips. “Hmh?” He teased as his fingers left again.

Feeling the absence of Yoongi’s touch was what drove you to sheer and utter desperation. “My fucking god-yes! Please, Yoongi, let me cum. I need you so badly right now.” You cried, more tears leaving your eyes. The louder your pleads got, the more satisfied he was. “Yoongi please-” 

Yoongi let out an amused chuckle. “Look how desperate you are for me. What would your friends think if they heard you like this? Especially the neighbours.” He said, sure to emphasize that last part.

“I don’t care anymore, I just need you.”

“Good.” Yoongi placed your legs on his shoulders, keeping your thighs in a steady distance, his grip making it unable for you to move. His tongue tracing, what felt like love letters, on your aching clit, every flick driving you closer to your orgasm. After all that teasing, it didn’t take long for you to get there, feeling the knot in your lower body growing stronger. 

“Yes, yes, oh my fuck-yes!” With an arched back and trembling legs, you finally reached your long-postponed climax, which was more intense than your body seemed to handle. And it felt as if you could feel it until the tips of your fingers, leaving your body in exhaustion. “Fuck Yoongi-“ You heavily panted, feeling his tongue still on your clit. “I’m too sensitive.” You whimpered, making him pull away.

“Awe, are you now?” He said with fake pity.

“Uhu.” You pleaded.

“Was it a bit too intense for my girl?” He asked, making you hum another ‘uhu’. “Poor thing.” He leaned in to kiss you, feeling his hand going near your back to take your bra off. “I want to see all of you.”

As you were catching your breath, heavily panting, you watched him take his briefs off which were covered in precum. “You’re doing so good, baby. Do you want the rest?” Was Yoongi’s way of asking for further consent, giving his dick a few slow strokes as he looked at you. You eagerly nodded your head, making him grin. “Of course you do.” Before he fully entered you, he traced the slit of your entrance with the tip of his dick, teasing himself before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A drawn-out moan left his lips by the way your walls tightly hugged around him, a soft cuss slipping in between. He slowly and slightly pulled out of you, his cock glistening with the coat of your fluids around him. “I’ve missed you.” He groaned before thrusting in and out of you again. He was going rather slow as if he was savouring every thrust. “My pretty girl.” His hands were on your thighs, keeping your legs up for maximum access. You wanted to hold onto him, digging your nails into his back as your personal mark on him, but his personal handcuffs made that not an option. His thumb found your clit again, making your walls clench around him as he wanted to make you cum again. “Shit-” 

“I want to touch you, please Yoongi.” You pleaded as you were tucking on your personal prison. 

Heavy breaths left Yoongi’s lips. “Hmh, do you know?” He teased, that menacing smirk plastered on his face again. He slowly slid himself fully into you and you were pretty sure you could feel his tip touching the entrance of your cervix. “Shit-” After that, Yoongi increased his pace and you could already feel your legs shake. Hearing your moans as he filled you up was music to his ears. “And risking you covering your mouth again? No way. I want to hear my girl.” You wanted to tell him you’ll be a good girl and won’t do that, but he upped the pace again, making it hard for you to speak in general. Your tits were bouncing heavily on your chest, which was a beautiful sight to see for Yoongi. He quickly combed his hand through his hair, preventing his hair from blocking the sight he had in front of him. Sweat drops were forming on his forehead, making his hair damp but, fuck, did he look hot right now. Even though Yoongi was mostly focused on his pleasure as he thrust in and out of you, he made sure not to forget about you by the way his thumb was rubbing against your clit, feeling your walls clench around him as you were getting closer to your climax. Your moans were only getting louder, and in the back of your head, you knew you were going to have to explain yourself to your neighbour and friend tomorrow. “I want to feel you cum around my dick.” Yoongi groaned, his rasp indicating he was almost there. He slowed down the pace, focusing more on his finger work so you would get another round of pleasure.

“Oh god-“ You moaned as you felt another wave of ecstasy waiting for you. “Yes, yes-“ It felt as if his thumb was vibrating against your clit, your mind not fully comprehending how the fuck he did that. “I’m gonna-” But instead of the words, the loud moan that left your lips and the way your walls clenched around him, made it clear you reached your peak, making Yoongi increase his paste of fucking you.

The mixture of his postponed climax as protection of his ego and the sounds you were making, made him only seconds away of coming undone. To your surprise, he slid himself out of you, stroking himself down until you felt his cum on you, painting your whole body with it. A loud groan left his throat, head thrown back in pleasure. He stopped jerking himself off, taking a few deep breaths before looking back at you, staring like you were a masterwork. “My favourite looks so beautiful.” He smirked, kissing you softly before untying you. Your wrist hurt from the tightness of his belt, but for some reason, you really didn’t seem to mind. “Let me clean you up first.” Before Yoongi got up to go to the bathroom, he gave you one last kiss on the lips, taking his time before parting lips. You watch him leave the room, quickly finding his way to your bathroom as if he has been here before. You couldn’t sit up straight without making a mess since, yeah, you were covered in cum. It was almost impressive. Yoongi quickly came back, placing himself between your legs again for easy access. He was holding a wet towel, and when he was wiping away his hard work, you noticed he made it lukewarm just for your comfort. As he got you clean again, he leaned in to kiss you again, kissing your neck before kissing your lips. He gently cupped your face in the palm of his hand, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes as he parted his lips with yours. “You did so good.” He whispered softly, his thumb slightly caressing your cheek. 

You placed your hand on his and for some reason, your heart felt heavy. “Please stay the night.” You said with pleading eyes, making Yoongi smile softly at you. 

“I had no intention of doing anything else.” He removed himself from the bed, grabbing his briefs again. “You want to wear my T-shirt?” He smiled as he put back his underwear, knowing how much you loved to sleep in them. You happily nodded, putting it on as soon as he handed it to you. Before Yoongi placed himself back next to you, he couldn’t help but notice the wall of pictures on one of y our bedroom walls. And the longer he started down that wall of pictures, the longer he kept staring at one photo in particular. “You still have that picture of us.”

You looked away from Yoongi for a second, even though you knew exactly what photo he was talking about. “Yeah, I do.” It was a selfie you had taken with him, back when the two of you were 17. You could tell you were young by the way you two looked. It just happened to be one of your favourite photos of all time. Not because of quality or how aesthetically pleasing the picture looked, but because it just locked many memories. The most beautiful memories with Yoongi to be exact. That’s when you reminisced about the time with him again. Him waiting after classes so he could walk home with you. He asked if he could do his homework at your place, even though you two did everything besides homework. And just the way he used to love you was so gentle and loving, nothing like he was now. You were his and his only. “It’s one of my favourites, actually.” You just felt a need to say that.

“One of your favourite pictures is one where I’m in the frame?” He teased as he got back in bed with you, pulling you by the waist to have you close to him. He didn’t ask because he thought you were weird for calling a photo with your ex ‘one of your favourites’, but rather out of reassurance that it really was your favourite, even though he was in it.

“Yes, it was before you were a dick” You chuckled, even though you didn’t really mean it. “I have a lot of good memories linked to you, you know. They’re not all bad.” You explained, the tone in your voice slightly saddening as memories and emotions of your breakup entered your head. “Besides, you were my favourite at some point, so it’s not that weird.” That’s when Yoongi’s words from before echoed through your head again. ‘My favourite looks beautiful’ Did he really mean that or was it just a heat of the moment kind of thing? 

It was one of the few moments where Yoongi was the one who seemed to want to say something but stayed quiet instead. He seemed…conflicted. There was a brief moment when he looked happy, but then a hint of sadness waved over it. You couldn’t read his emotions and it made you frustrated. “Likewise.” That was all he said, but you knew Yoongi well enough to know that there was more on his mind. 

When you woke up the next morning, a lack of a presence beside you made you wake up quicker than usual. After a few blinks, you noticed Yoongi wasn’t lying beside you. You felt your heartache, unknown why he wasn’t there. Your mind went to start thinking of the worst again, but before you could fully feel your heartbreak, you saw a little note on your bedside table. “Had an important meeting. Sorry, I couldn’t stay.” All your worries were suddenly washed over as you read the last sentence. “See you soon though :]” You felt like a teen again by the way you got so excited over a written note, making you put it in your drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. Besides Yoongi’s scent lingering throughout your apartment, you noticed an unfamiliar object lying neatly on your bedside table as well. And that’s when you realized…

Those were the panties you had lost at Hoseok’s party.

Rarely enough, you decided to have your lunch break with Jia. Usually, you would make some lame ass excuse as to why you couldn’t have your break together with her, avoiding any opportunity she could have to talk about Yoongi’s dick again. But today, you felt brave, agreeing you would eat together, making her ecstatic. “Please y/n?! You have to come!” Jia has been desperately trying to convince you to come clubbing with her for the last half hour or so. Guilt brews inside your gut as she’s unknown to the idea of Yoongi and you. How would she even react? She couldn’t be that mad since half of her friends have been sharing him. And the more you started to think about it, the more disturbed you were about that thought. “I bet you’ll love it.” 

You doubted that. You enjoyed going home after a long work shift, but she does seem very persistent. Maybe you should go. “Alright…you convinced me.” 

“Ugh, finally! You’ll have a great time, I promise! You can even bring your boo Jungkook” She teased before taking a big bite of your lunch, continuing to speak with a full mouth after that.

“Don’t say that-“

“If you don’t want him I sure wouldn’t mind taking a bite of that”

Jesus.

“I’ll ask him.” You smiled, making Jia hug you out of sheer happiness. You felt bad again. You knew Jia liked you, but all you could think about was Yoongi doing the things he did with you yesterday with her. It made you grow resentful towards her, even though she didn’t do anything wrong. You thought maybe, tomorrow, you wouldn’t feel like that anymore. You could see her in another light if it was just you and her and maybe some of her friends. Those friends who probably have had sex with Yoongi too though…No! You were not going to think like this! No man was going to ruin the beautiful opportunity of two women becoming friends. Especially a fuckboy like Yoongi. For a short while you thought you were above casual hookups, but lately you’ve been taking that thought into question.

Before your break was over, you texted the idea to Jungkook, hoping he’d say yes because no way were you going to survive that night without a familiar face. To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t against the idea of clubbing with you after you texted him. On the contrary, he seemed to be really excited about it, telling you he has always wanted to do something like that with you. This makes you think there must be some underlying motivation for his answer.

Or maybe you were just overthinking it?

Taglist; @flowerblu00, @brinda-9, @seokjinkismet, @sugainmybowl, @mxxxnshine @arianalilyblack

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[daddy-dins-girl]

Kindred - Chapter One

Kindred.

So I rewatched WW84 two nights ago and the next day I had 5k of Max Lord fic written (idk what happened). But anyway, lmk if you want to see a part 2!

Main MasterlistSeries Masterlist

AO3 Link

Chapter 2

Summary: You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to.

Tonight a thought occurs to you that maybe Mr. Lord just needs to let go, for one night. And maybe you could give that to him.

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: Takes place a couple years before the events of WW84. Reader has no defined age so it can be whatever you want. I'm not sure how old Alistair is supposed to be in 84, but in this fic he's about 6ish (so no baby talk or screaming toddlers here folks!).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Oral sex. Explicit language. Light dom/sub. Light bondage (Max's neck tie comes in handy). Max's hair is it's own warning.

...

“Hi Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at your boss as the front door swings open to allow you inside. You’re met, as per usual, by the sight of your employer looking - in a word - exasperated. He sighs when he sees you; in relief you assume, and runs a hand through his golden chestnut locks that constantly fall across his forehead. He’s dressed smartly in a blue pin striped suit with a stark white shirt and navy tie with a gold paisley pattern which hangs loose and slightly askew around his neck. You assume he’s been tugging at it, something you noticed he does when he gets overly stressed which, granted, is pretty often. 

You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to. You know why he does it; that he’s trying to build an empire, something to leave to his son (with whom he splits custody of with his ex-wife) and to be able to provide everything for his son that he never had. But spending so much time with his son Alistair, you see the other side of it as well and sympathize. All Alistair wants is for his father to actually get home in time to read him a bedtime story, or go to the park for a game of catch, or show up at school for Career Day like everyone else’s parents. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly” Maxwell finally breathes as both his hands reach out and grab yours, gently pulling you inside. “My ex-wife had a family emergency with her mother and needed to go out of town and had to drop Alistair off. I know this is normally your week off, I appreciate you coming”

“Of course, Mr. Lord, it’s no trouble, really” you assure him. Truly you didn’t mind, you could always use the extra money. You liked the schedule with the Lord’s. Two weeks on, two weeks off. In your off time from nannying you peddled beauty products and rented a chair at a local hair salon near your apartment. Giving haircuts to suburban housewives was a great way to boost your side business of selling cosmetics and skin care products. You had clients at the salon who would often hire you to come to small lunches they would host for their girlfriends where you could give a small presentation of the products you sold and it was an easy way for you to make money and add to your growing client list. Mr. Lord had even surprised you by becoming a client. He had come home one night to you filling out orders in a receipt book at the kitchen table, a few skin care products strewn about the table as you readied to package them up and he was instantly curious as to what you were selling. You were embarrassed at first, for technically working for your other job while on the clock for him but he instantly waved you off. Alistair had already been asleep for hours and he assured you that not only did he not mind, but he was impressed by your work ethic. He handled a few of the products, carefully reading the small print on the bottles and you noted his curiosity before pulling out the catalog from your purse and suggesting a few items for him to try.

“Makes you glow like a teenager” You had smiled at him as you explained one of the serums to him and he had his checkbook out within minutes, placing his first order.

You would have to rearrange a few of the haircuts you had scheduled for this week but most of your clients were housewives with flexible enough schedules that you were confident you could rearrange them to times where Alistair would be in school, so you weren’t worried about it. And your cosmetic business was mostly a work from home endeavor anyway, aside from the few weekly home deliveries you made which could also be done during school hours. During your “on weeks” at the Lord’s you lived there. It was just easier due to Maxwell’s ever changing and highly busy schedule. He was out of the house at the early morning hours and typically didn’t return until long after the sun was set. Even most weekends he was in and out of the office, trying to be home whenever he could but with his business still being in the early stages of growth, it was a necessary evil.

You were more than just a babysitter for Alistair. You cooked and cleaned and did whatever you could to make Maxwell’s life easier. In the beginning he tried to insist you didn’t need to do as much as you did, that he knew he didn’t pay you enough for all the work you put in, but you quickly brushed him off, ensuring him that not only were you happy to do it, but it gave you something to do when Alistair was asleep or otherwise occupied. He eventually stopped trying, knowing you’d do it regardless, and every few months (presumably when he’d had a good month at work and could afford it) you’d notice a couple of extra bills in the envelope of cash he’d hand you at the beginning of your work week. It wasn’t much, but you appreciated that he appreciated you. At the end of the day you were both just trying to hustle your way through life; Maxwell was just a more successful version of yourself, in a way. You were kindred spirits, it’s probably why you got along as well as you did.

The fact that you found your boss to be devastatingly handsome didn’t hurt either, you supposed.

“Who is it Daddy?” You heard Alistair's excited voice call out as hurried footsteps came barreling towards the front entryway. He slid to a stop in his socked feet and hands instinctively wrapped around his father’s leg as he peered up at you with the same large chestnut coloured eyes as his fathers.

“It’s our Angel, come to save the day again buddy” Max smiled down at his son, ruffling a hand through his dark brown locks.

“So you’re going back to work tonight?” Alistair’s face fell slightly, along with your heart, as his fingers picked absently at the crease in Max’s pant leg.

“Hey,” You quickly sprang into action, squatting down to be eye level with Alistair and nudging at his chin with your finger to get him to look up at you. “I brought you something” you begin, a grin spreading across your lips as you reach into your purse at your side.

“A present?!” Alistair’s eye’s light up suddenly and it makes you smile.

“Well, sort of, but it’s on loan” you explain as you pull the rented VHS tape out of your bag and hold it out in front of you.

“ET!” the boy all but shrieks. His Dad had taken him to see it at the drive-in when it had first come out and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since. When Raquel, Mr. Lord’s assistant, had called you a couple hours ago to explain the situation and asking if you could step in this week, you knew the boy might be overly emotional; his grandmother being ill and his father undoubtedly rushing off to work the moment you arrived at their doorstep. You had a feeling this would cushion the blow and your instincts were right on the money as he jumped up and down excitedly at you.

“Can we put it on now?” He asked, his excitement barely contained as he bounced up and down on his heels.

“Tell you what, why don’t we order a pizza and we can watch it with our dinner”

“Yay!” Alistair shouts, turning on his heel and running off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to browse the pizza menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

“I’m getting pepperoni!” You hear him yell from the kitchen and you huff a laugh at his eagerness as you straighten back up and face your employer once again.

“Thank you, honestly sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you” Mr. Lord tells you honestly and you smile, placing a hand on his bicep.

“Happy to help” you tell him. And you are. Maxwell and Alistair have become this sort of part-time family of yours and you’d do anything for them.

“I better get in there before he starts dialing and orders half the restaurant” you joke before bringing your hands up to fix Max’s tie around his neck until it’s tightened and straight, your hand brushing down the silken material slightly and then patting your palm against it once.It’s something you’ve never done to him before and you have no idea what came over you in the moment, the act feeling strangely intimate but you quickly clear your throat, take a step back and give him an easy smile.

“Don’t work too hard” you tell him before you brush past him to go after Alistair, knowing he won’t actually heed the advice, but you say it anyway.

You hear the front door open and close as you reach Alistair in the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the wall to place the order and get your evening started.

…

It’s well past ten when you hear the door open again, signaling Maxwell’s arrival home. You look up from the kitchen table where you’d been flipping through a magazine and watch him as he places his briefcase on the floor before his large frame envelops the open doorway to the kitchen. He leans against the wall, tie hanging loosely around his neck again and hair falling across his forehead.

“Alistair?” He asks hopefully, though you're pretty certain he already knows the answer.

“Asleep” You shrug and his face falls slightly.

“Of course, it’s late” he sighs, pulling his arm up to look at his watch. “Lost track of time I guess” he mumbles and you frown. He looks exhausted, hands running through his hair again.

“It’s getting long” you say, not meaning too it just comes out; occupational hazard you suspect.

“What?” He questions, not sure what you mean.

“Your hair” you nod in his direction. “When was the last time you had it cut?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure…” Max trails off, thinking. He knows it has been too long. He had to skip his last appointment because an investor meeting had come up and he’d forgotten to ask Raquel to reschedule him.

You stand up, your feet moving of their own accord until you’re standing right in front of him at the kitchen doorway and you bring your left hand up to gently run through the few stray locks that are normally slicked back but have now curtained across his forehead.

“I could trim it for you” you say, your eyes glued to his hair and not even noticing how close you’re standing to him or that his gaze is fixed on you, his Adam's apple bobbing heavy in his throat.

“I… couldn’t ask you to do that” he says finally, running his own hand through his hair as you pull yours away.

“No, really, I insist, come here” you take both your hands and grab for one of his, pulling him further into the kitchen and sliding a chair out.

“I have my stuff here, I was going to give Alistair a trim this week anyway” you shrug. “Sit, I’ll be right back” you instruct and he sighs but dutifully does as you ask.

You return a couple minutes later with your supplies and a towel that you secure around his neck. You go to the sink and fill your spray bottle with water so you can mist it through his hair to get it wet enough to cut before you begin your work.

“You have a great head of hair, I see where Alistair gets it from” you comment as your fingers rake through it from the top of his scalp to the back of his neck. It was true. A lot of your male clients around Mr. Lord’s age were already showing a receding hairline and none of them had hair as thick as his. “I don’t think you have to worry about going bald anytime soon” you joke and you hear him chuckle softly.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this” Max says into the stillness of the room while you continue to trim and run your hands through his hair, ensuring all the ends are even.

“It’s kind of fun when it’s not work,” you shrug. Plus you really didn’t mind running your hands through Max’s hair, not that you’d ever admit that to him. You’d been dying to do it since you met him. Soft, luscious locks begging for a pair of hands other than his own to run through them.

You finish the trim, place the scissors down on the table and take an extra few seconds to run both hands through his hair, your nails raking gently against his scalp as you style his hair the way he likes it.

“There” you smile at your handiwork before reaching for the handheld mirror on the table and holding it up for him to take. His hand wraps around yours on the handle of the mirror as he brings it in front of him, his free hand running through his hair to inspect the length.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Feels much better” he beams at you through the mirror with his megawatt smile that makes your knees weaken and you bite your lip, looking away quickly as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Just glad I could help” you tell him before you untuck the towel from the collar of his dress shirt and sweep it off his shoulders, balling it up before any loose hair falls onto the floor and placing it on the seat of a nearby chair so you can take it to the laundry room later. You're standing up straight behind him again and before you can talk yourself out of it, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and start kneading, instantly feeling the tight knots of muscles beneath his dress shirt.

“Oh, um” Max startles slightly in the chair, turning his head as far to the side as he can to try and look at you.

“Sorry” you quickly pull your hands from his shoulders as if you’d been burned and Max turns his body in his seat so he’s sitting sideways on the chair, his elbow resting on the back.

“It’s ok” Max assures, large brown eyes looking up at you. “But, you don’t have to… I mean I don’t expect…” he trails off and you quickly come to the understanding that he’s not mad at you for touching him or doesn’t even not want you to.

An idea comes to your head as you stare down at the big puppy dog eyes of the exhausted man staring back at you. A man that deserves so much more than what life has thrown at him. It’s a risky idea, sure, and could potentially ruin everything you’ve built with this family over the last several months but something just comes over you and takes hold and you can’t seem to shake it off.

“Turn your chair around to face me, and bring it forward a bit, away from the table” you instruct, taking a few steps back so he has room. His eyes glance over you for a few moments, studying to see if you’re being serious or not before he finally swallows and nods, silently obeying your orders. He turns the chair and sits on it properly again, his hands going under the seat so he can shuffle it forward slightly so it's not backed right up against the table, his eyes never leaving you from where you stand a foot or so away, leaned against the kitchen island in front of him.

Satisfied with where he sits, you take the two steps across the kitchen to reach him again and your hands go back to his shoulders, this time rubbing up and down the material of the dark blue suspenders for a few moments before your fingers hook underneath them and slide them down his arms. You catch the shudder he releases but neither of you comment on it.

“You’re always working so hard” you sigh as you run a hand through his hair again before bringing it to run down the side of his face and his eyes close voluntarily at your touch. “Taking care of Alistair, of your clients, your business” you continue, both hands now fiddling with the tie at his neck, loosening it further.

“Who takes care of you?” You ask, though not expecting an answer, and he doesn’t give you one. Just swallows thickly instead, breathing heavily through his nose.

You successfully loosen the tie completely before sliding it off of him, wrapping the silk around your hands briefly to feel the fine fabric. You put one hand on his shoulder and step around him until you’re behind him and squat down as each of your hands grab for his arms and pull them behind his back until his wrists are together and you lay the silk fabric of the tie over top of them.

“Is this ok?” You ask, mouth next to his ear now and he quickly nods his head.

“Yes” he manages to breathe out and you go back to your task of securing the tie around his wrists, giving it a gentle tug when you're finished to make sure it's not too tight but also that he can’t wriggle free too easily.

You take a steadying breath while still behind him before raising up to your feet again. You’ve never actually done anything like this before and your hands are nearly shaking, your entire body buzzing with excitement but you try to will yourself to relax. Max needs this, and you can do it. You can give him what he needs and what he’d never ask you for.

Settling your shoulders and holding your head high, you finally step back around him until you’re in front of him again.

“Good boy” you praise him once you’re facing him again; hand coming up to rest on his cheek and he closes his eyes at the warmth of your palm against his skin.

“Poor baby, just needs someone to take care of him, don’t you?” you tease, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

“Yes, Angel” Max sighs, his eyes finally opening again to meet yours. You notice the endearment slip, the same one he had used this morning and it gives you butterflies. You take another steadying breath to reign yourself in so you don't end up untying him and letting him do whatever he wants with you. God knows you want to, but you want tonight to be just for him.

“I’m going to take good care of you, aren’t I Maxwell?” You whisper and his eyes close again upon hearing his first name come from your lips. You had always called him Mr. Lord, but tonight, he was just Maxwell.

Placing a hand on each of his shoulders, you lower yourself onto his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his and you can feel him already growing hard beneath you. Max’s chest is heaving as he tries to maintain some type of control over his body, his heart beating wildly underneath his pressed white dress shirt as your hands glide up and down from the tops of his shoulders to the middle of his chest.

“I think I like you like this” you purr, lower half grinding up against his to create some friction and a moan slips from his lips as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. “You don’t have to think, don’t have to act, just be free… just be with me, baby” you tell him before you lean forward and capture his lips with yours, both of you moaning into the kiss when your mouths open and tongues meet. His lips are soft, as soft as you’d always fantasized they’d be. His tongue explores your mouth greedily, desperate to taste every part of you, lick into every cavern. You’d always imagined he’d be a great kisser but you had no idea how amazing he’d be. You’re so lost in the kiss you almost forget your plan all together, wanting to just stay in this moment with him for as long as your lung capacities would allow. Your hands are in his hair now, fingers running through the soft waves, and he groans into your mouth before he pulls back suddenly.

“Angel, please. Let me hold you, touch you” he all but whines, squirming underneath you and you almost break, feeling defenseless against his pleas, but you hold steady and straighten up in his lap again.

“Not tonight baby. Tonight is for you. This is what I want, and you want to please me, don’t you Maxwell?”

“Yes” he nods, his voice trembling.

It’s clear that giving up control is not something Max is used to, but you know he needs it, likes it even - if the evidence currently pressing against your thigh is any indication.

“Good boy” you praise again and when his cock twitches against your leg, your eyebrows raise at him in surprise.

“You like being my good boy, Maxwell?” You tease, rewarding him with a forceful press of your pelvis into his groin and he moans, biting his lower lip.

“Yes”

“You feel so good baby” you moan, rocking into him, your hands around the back of his neck now. “So big and hard for me” you praise and a whine escapes his lips as he tries to meet your thrusts with his own as much as he can within the confines of the chair he’s tied to.

You lean your face forward until your mouth is on the shell of his ear and you gently pull the lobe between your teeth before soothing over it with your tongue. “Want you in my hand, in my mouth” you confess breathily against his ear and he whimpers. “Can I take you out baby?”

Max eagerly nods, not trusting his own voice and you nip at his earlobe again. “Words, baby” you remind him.

“Yes” he breathes. “Take my cock out, it’s yours Angel”

He sounds absolutely wrecked already and you love it. You bring your attention to his waist and pop open the button to his trousers, sliding down the zipper before your hand pushes eagerly inside to cup him over his briefs.

“Oh, baby” Max sighs, hanging his head down so he can see your hand rubbing along his shaft covered in expensive soft black cotton.

“Is this my cock, Maxwell?” You ask, feeling more emboldened by the minute as Max turns into absolute putty under your hands.

“Yes. Fuck. Yeah baby, all yours”

You remove your hand from him for just a few seconds so you can tug his pants down to his thighs and then shove the front of his briefs down so you can take him out of the confines of his underwear and see him in all his glory. And what a glorious site it is, indeed, you think to yourself.

Max hisses when you pull his length out and run your hand down it once. He’s long and too thick for you to be able to wrap your hand all the way around it. The head is dark and purple and already leaking precum. “It’s beautiful, just like you baby” you tell him before you lean forward to press a quick kiss to his lips and smile at him. “Gonna make you feel so good” you promise before easing yourself off of his lap and onto your knees instead and Max groans, tossing his head back.

You start with teasing little licks and kisses to the head before going lower and licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock and Max moans from above you. “Tastes good too” you tell him before your mouth closes around the fat head and sucks gently, causing Max to buck his hips up into you.

“Stay still” you scold, immediately taking your mouth off of him to look up at him. “Don’t be a naughty boy” you warn as you grip both of his thighs tightly.

“Oh, fuck” Max groans, eyes closing and head falling back again. It's clear he’s loving this, loving you being in control of him. Another bead of precum dribbles out and slides down his dick and you quickly duck down to catch it on your tongue and lick a stripe up his length again. This time Max remains still, his breaths coming out harder through his nose as he concentrates on remaining still.

“Good boy” you praise before bringing your whole mouth down on him, swallowing down as much of his length as your throat will allow and repeating the process over and over, head bobbing up and down on his cock with enthusiasm.

“Oh baby, shit. Holy shit Angel” Max whines as he watches you choke on his dick. Your eyelashes flutter up at him as you watch him watch you. He looks completely fucked out, his pupils blown wide, shoulders tense under the white dress shirt where he’s pulling against the restraints behind him, desperate to reach for you, to touch you.

You moan into his cock. Watching him completely lose himself in you is doing all kinds of things to your body. You can feel yourself soaking your panties, getting off on the pleasure you’re giving him and you bring a hand up to wrap around his length and work him up and down for what your mouth can’t reach.

When the back of your throat needs a break you focus your mouth on his head instead, swirling your tongue around and underneath the tip while your hand continues pumping his shaft, wet with your saliva and easily sliding up and down the length.

“Oh Angel, you feel so fucking good” Max praises.”Oh fuuuuuuck” His breathing has become even more erratic and you know he’s getting close so you double your efforts, taking his whole length in your mouth again and hollowing out your cheeks as you slide him down your throat and swallow. The sounds of wet saliva and your lips smacking and swallowing his cock are positively sinful as they bounce off the kitchen walls and back to your ears and it urges you on, bobbing faster and faster up and down his cock, your hand pumping and gently squeezing him in tandem with your mouth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby!” Max whines and you know it's a warning. Rather than lifting off of him you moan into him instead and continue sucking and tugging at him, urging him to finish in your mouth.

“Oh Christ, Angel. I’m coming, I’m coming. Fuck!” Max warns before you feel his hot spend hit the back of your throat in spurts and you continue moaning and swallowing around his cock, milking him of every last drop until his hips finally still and you swallow once more before releasing him with a pop and laying your head to rest on his thigh to take a breath.

“Oh my God” Max heaves a sigh and you feel all the tension leave his body and a smile crosses your lips. You move your head forward just a little to press a kiss to his shaft before you straighten up on your knees again and tuck him back into his underwear.

“Angel, fucking untie me, please” he begs desperately and you quickly oblige him, reaching behind the chair to tug at the knot until it comes free, the silk falling to the floor and Max’s arms shoot out the moment they’re free and tug you up off the floor and back onto his lap as his strong arms circle around your back and hold you tight to his chest, hugging you like you’re a life raft and he could just float away into nothing if you weren’t there to anchor him.

“Angel you are so perfect to me” he sighs, nuzzling against the side of your face.”I… didn’t even know I needed that” he admits and you smile, leaning back so you can look at him.

“I know baby” you coo, running a hand through his hair again before resting it on his cheek. “Told you I’d take care of you”

“And… I want to take care of you, too” Max shrugs, his eyes pleading with yours as his hands run absently across your back.

“Another time” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his strong nose. Max’s shoulders fall but he nods in understanding.

“Do you promise?” He asks, bringing his large hands to run up and down your sides.

“I promise, Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at him.

...

Chapter two

Tagging some of my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin

If you wanna be tagged there is an update, lmk!

#pedro pascal #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #maxwell lord fanfiction #wonder woman 1984 #max lord #maxwell lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x you

[lunarbuck]

Dance With The Devil (2)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 5k

Summary: You see a dark side to the men holding you captive, but you won't let them break you.

Warnings: death, violence, injury, angst

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! I've loved writing it :) beta'd by the lovely @purpleshallot

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

When you wake in the morning, you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus. Your body aches and your head spins. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, what happened last night, and as it all comes back to you, all you feel is anger. 

It consumes you; it lights a fire in your heart. 

You stare at yourself in the vanity mirror and try to ignore how puffy your eyes are from crying last night. Right then and there, you decide that you won’t be the weak little prisoner he expects you to be. You tell yourself that you won’t roll over and take it when he wants you to.

You’ll fight him. You’ll fight him every step of the way.

It only takes you a few minutes to clean yourself up, splashing water on your face to reduce the redness of your eyes. You dress in a pair of plain brown pants from the dresser and a shirt you find, noting that they fit pretty well. You’re not sure how the raven-haired man knew what sizes to get or if he always keeps spare clothes in this room.

Either way, you don’t want to know, and you tell yourself that you don’t care.

You place your hand on the doorknob and take a deep breath. As you turn it, the metal is cool beneath your fingertips, a loud click echoing through your brain.

When you emerge from the room, you run straight into someone’s back, though they don’t fall over. Instead, the person turns around and catches you easily, steadying you. It only takes a moment to recognize them as the man you’d seen last night in the hallway, who directed you to your father.

“Good morning,” he says, removing his hands from where they’d been on your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

Now that you’re closer to him, you let your eyes roam over his face and figure. He’s handsome, brown hair perfectly coiffed atop his head. His green eyes are bright despite the low light in the hallway, and he wears a perfectly pressed black button-up tucked into black dress pants. 

“Hungry,” you end up saying quietly, letting your eyes connect with his. He gives you a gentle and knowing smile.

“Of course, come with me.” He extends his arm, offering it to you, and you surprise yourself by slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow.

The new man walks you through the halls, explaining the home’s architecture and art history. You find yourself hanging on to every word, soaking up all the information you can. 

A few moments later, you arrive in a large dining room, a huge wooden table in the center with chairs lining the perimeter. The man pulls out the chair at the head of the table, and you warily sit down.

“What’s your name?” you ask as he helps you push in the chair. The man sticks his head into the kitchen, calling to someone before returning to your side.

“I’m Levi, and this is Cade,” he replies, gesturing to the man coming in from the kitchen. Cade seems to have a permanent scowl etched into his features, which doesn’t shift as he gives you a once-over.

“She’s not supposed to be here,” Cade says to Levi, not seeming to find it necessary to introduce himself to you.

Levi sighs exasperatedly, leaning against the back of your chair. “I don’t really give a shit. She’s hungry, and I’m not gonna let her starve.” Your heart warms at the sentiment; at least someone in this house cares about your well-being, even if the raven-haired man doesn’t.

“We have orders–” Cade cuts himself off, staring down at you as if he’d just noticed you listening. He returns his gaze back to Levi before lowering his voice. “If he finds out that she’s here, that we brought her here… I’m not saving your ass this time.” You mull over his words. Why does the raven-haired man care where you go? Clearly, he doesn’t want to see you since he hasn’t come to check on you yet.

“I won’t say anything,” you interject. Both men drop their gazes to you, Levi’s kind and caring, Cade’s frustrated and broody.

Levi reaches around the chair and squeezes your shoulder. “Perfect.” Two men venture back into the kitchen. They bicker the entire time, and you sit back in the chair, taking in the room around you.

It’s incredibly intricate, with so many details for your eyes to roam over that you don’t know where to start. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice another person entering the room. One look at the woman, and you know she’s probably the kindest person out there. Her hair is streaked with gray, eyes crinkled in the corners from years of smiling.

“Hello, my dear,” she says, placing a steaming mug in front of you. As the steam rises, you smell that it’s herbal tea. You wrap your hands around the ceramic, warming your skin. “It’s lovely to meet you. My name is Mrs. Peters, and if you ever need anything, no matter how small or insignificant you may feel it is, you just tell me.” Mrs. Peters sits next to you and watches you sip at the tea. Instantly, the liquid warms your whole body, ridding it of the chill from last night’s events.

“Thank you, Mrs. Peters,” you reply quietly, taking in her comforting demeanor. She gives you a bright smile, and a moment later, Levi carries out a spread of breakfast options for you. Mrs. Peters rises from her seat to help him lay out the food in front of you.

Cade leans against the wall a few feet away, clearly upset by the sight in front of him. 

“Stop sulking,” Mrs. Peters chides, clicking her tongue at the man. “I don’t care what he has to say about it. I’m not going to let the poor child go hungry.” Cade rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

Mrs. Peters and Levi sit with you at the table while you eat, encouraging you to try different dishes they like. Cade stands to the side, watching with a disgusted look plastered on his face. It bothers you; why does he care so much? He had mentioned getting in trouble, but there’s no way that letting you eat could have that severe of consequences.

“Why were you not supposed to let me eat?” you ask, turning to Levi. He shifts a little in his seat but keeps his easy grin.

“You’re not supposed to leave your room without the permission of the big guy,” he explains. “Somethin’ about him not trusting you yet.” 

“You know it’s more than that, Levi,” Cade grunts. “And they’re not orders. If you go against orders, it’s not that bad. This was a threat. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.” Mrs. Peters stands abruptly and strides over to Cade in just a few steps.

“Cade, I am shocked at you. She’s not our prisoner; she’s our guest. We must make her feel welcome here.” You shake your head at her words; you’re not a guest in this house. You’re the raven-haired man’s prisoner.

“I’m a prisoner,” you admit quietly, pushing away the plate in front of you. “I traded my life to save my father. I did it to myself.” The room goes silent, and you push away from the table and head to the hall. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

The walk back to your room is quick, and when you shut the door, you chide yourself for not looking for a way out or more information on who the raven-haired man is.

Sitting at the vanity, you wonder what you’d do if you found a way out. Would you run? What would happen to you? The raven-haired man knows who you and your father are. He knows where you live; would he just come and take you back?

The thought of him knocking down the door to your home and dragging you back here sends shivers down your spine.

Now isn’t the time to think about hypotheticals. You must keep your head straight and figure out a way out of this mess.

The rest of the week, you don’t leave your room. Food gets delivered to your room, but you never see who brings it. More clothes had also appeared outside your door a few days ago. Everything is your size, somehow also your style. 

You spend your day re-reading the one book you had brought with you. The prince saves the princess from the grips of the evil man every time. As much as you wish you had a knight in shining armor coming to save you, you know you don’t. 

At first, you’d thought Griffin would come looking for you, but if the raven-haired man really is part of the mafia or mob or whatever, you imagine he won’t be able to do much on his own. You haven’t been able to find your phone, so it’s not like you can even call or text Griffin to tell him what happened.

A knock on your door spooks you, but you relax when Levi calls you from the other side. You pad over to the door and open it to reveal his thousand-watt smile. 

“Hello, Levi,” you say, leaning against the door frame. 

“Hello, ma chéri, how are you today?” You shrug, you could certainly be better, but you suppose things could also be much worse. 

“I’m okay,” you end up saying. Levi nods, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you.

“Well, I wanted to apologize for not seeing you much this week. I couldn’t risk pissing off Cade more than I already had.” You nod your understanding, gesturing for Levi to come into your room. The two of you sit on your floor, facing each other.

“I understand,” you reply, digging your fingers into the plush carpet beneath you. Everything in this house screams luxury, old money. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Levi rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight you on what you’ve said,

“Cade just has a fuckin’ stick up his ass. I know who I work for; I know what I signed up for. Loki can take it up with me if he has a problem with me feeding you. I’m not going to let you sit here and wither away.”

Loki. 

That’s the first time you’ve heard his name spoken out loud. 

Loki.

“And what is it that you signed up for?” you ask, curious about what Levi’s job truly is. 

“I am the right-hand man to the head of the Laufeyson Family Mafia.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if he’d just told you he’s a cashier for the local grocery store.

“Excuse me?” You stare at the man dumbfounded. How could Levi, the seemingly sweet and kind man in front of you, be part of such a vicious profession? And to be the right hand of the leader…

“Loki and I grew up together, he was always going to be in this life, but I chose to be in it. I do all the shit he doesn’t want to do, but honestly, he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. Most of the time, we do it all together.” He’s being too vague; it puts you on edge. You know he’s doing it on purpose, whether it’s to protect you or himself, you’re not sure.

“But why?” How could anyone willingly choose a life like this?

“I’m not a good man, ma chérie,” he says, cocking his head. “I like being in the thick of it; it’s what I’m good at. I tried to live in the ‘real world,’ and it sucks. It’s not for me. But this, it all makes sense to me.” You shake your head; this doesn’t make any sense. The image of Levi ending someone’s life and cleaning up the mess afterward doesn’t work. It doesn’t align with what you know of him.

But what do you really know?

Nothing.

You only know what he’s shown you, and you haven’t had the opportunity to see him in action. 

“And what kind of man is Loki?” His name tastes like poison on your tongue. Levi lets your words sink in, mulling them over.

“You can’t be a good man in our world.”

Silence settles between you, and you don’t press him for more. “I didn’t come here to scare you, ma chérie. I was wondering if you’d like a tour of the rest of the house; I know you haven’t seen the rest of it yet.”

Your eyes light up at his proposition. You’ve been itching to explore. “Yes, I’d love that!” you tell him excitedly.

“Wonderful.” Levi stands, taking your hands in his to help you up. “I have to go on a job for a little while, but when I get back, I can take you. The house looks so much better in the evening anyways.” You deflate slightly when he tells you that he won’t be taking you right now, but you try not to show your disappointment.

“I look forward to it,” you say as Levi steps out of your room.

“See you then, ma chérie.”

The sun sinks below the horizon. It’s been hours, and Levi has yet to come back. You can’t help but think you won’t be getting your tour tonight.

But who says you need Levi to explore? You’ve never been too reliant on others; why start now?

You walk through the halls, expecting to get stopped, but no one is out right now, to your surprise. You make your way through the familiar areas of the house, but when you pass the large wooden doors to the west wing, you can’t help but reach out and brush your fingers along the ornate carvings.

You know the west wing is forbidden, but what’s in there? What could be so bad? Before you can convince yourself not to, you’re pushing the doors open. 

Another hallway comes into view, though this one isn’t carpeted like the rest of the house, instead having dark wood floors. You take a tentative step across the threshold. When you don’t instantly burst into flames or whatever you thought would happen, you continue down the hall.

Paintings line the walls, but most are covered with dust cloths. When you reach the end of the hall, you find a portrait ripped to shreds. You reach out, pushing the pieces back together, and find it’s a family portrait.

The family is all dressed in black, sitting in a traditional pose. The raven-haired man, Loki, sits between who you assume are his mother and father. They don’t look happy, but they also don’t look angry. They look pleasant as if they’d all been thinking of a kind memory.

Loki’s eyes pierce into you, captivating you. 

A loud shout steals your attention, and you notice a door you hadn’t seen a moment ago. A sliver of light peeks through the crack in the door, and you glance through it, unable to contain your curiosity.

Inside the room, Loki, Levi, and Cade all stand around a man tied to a chair. They take turns striking him with their fists, beating him without mercy.

Between each punch, Loki asks him the same question.

“Where is the shipment?”

The man never has an answer.

After another rotation of beatings, the man slumps over as much as he can in his bindings. Cade and Levi look at Loki for direction, and your stomach turns as you watch Loki pull a knife out of his pocket, flicking it open gracefully.

Loki grips the man’s hair, yanking his head upward. Blood oozes from his broken nose. It drips down his face, in his mouth, off his chin. Loki’s eyes are dark, but a smirk graces his lips. He’s enjoying this.

You hold your breath as Loki drags the tip of his blade down the bound man’s cheek, cutting it shallowly. 

The bound man stirs, eyes flashing open at the pain of being cut. 

“Please, please just stop,” he begs, trying to crane his face away from Loki’s knife. 

“Just tell me what I want to know then,” Loki spits bitterly. He moves the knife down the man’s neck, not hitting anything vital but scraping the skin.

“I swear I don’t know anything. I wasn’t there when the shipment got dropped off. I was s’posed to, but I fucked up and was late. By the time I got there, it was gone. That’s all I know.” 

Loki’s eyes connect with Levi’s, and they both shake their heads knowingly. 

It only takes a second for Loki to drive the knife into the bound man’s chest, ending his life instantly. 

A loud ringing fills your ears, and bile rises in your throat. 

You turn away from the door, stumbling down the corridor in the dark. You trip over your feet, landing against the wall.

A hand grips your arm, shoving your back to the wall. Loki stands in front of you, fuming.

“Why did you come here?” His hold on your arm is bruising, cutting off circulation to your hand.

“I– I’m sorry,” you stammer, still hearing the ringing in your ears. You feel like you’re about to faint.

“I warned you never to come here,” he shouts, eyes like fire.

“I didn’t– I don’t–” you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. All you want is for him to let you go. You somewhat get your wish as his hands move from your arms to grip your face. His fingers reach back around your head, tangling in your hair while cupping your cheeks. 

“Do you realize what you could have done?” He angles your head so you have no choice but to stare into his eyes. He looks hungry, like a man starved.

You feel like the bound man.

“Please stop,” you whisper, tears springing in your eyes. You will them not to fall; you just want him to let go.

A cold look washes over his face, his entire demeanor shifts, and he shoves himself away from you. Loki’s hands fall to his sides, fists clenched.

“Get out,” he growls, seething. You don’t think as you run out of the dark hallway and out into the central area of the house. Your feet carry you through the halls, down the stairs, and out the front door. 

No one stops you. No one chases you.

You don’t stop even as you run down the hill, out the iron-wrought gate, and through the neighborhood that had looked so far away from the house.

Your lungs scream at you, your legs ache, but you want to be as far away from that house as possible. As far away from Loki and his dark eyes, full of blood and lust. 

You reach the downtown area of the neighborhood and collapse onto a bench, sucking in heaving breaths. Your thoughts spin through your mind, replaying what you’d seen Loki and his men do in that room. 

The fall air is crisp and cool, quickly drying the sweat on your skin. You feel feverish, welcoming the breeze that blows through the trees. You bring your knees up into your chest and will your heartbeat to slow down. 

Even though it’s dark out, the moon glows brightly in the cloudless sky. A street lamp illuminates the stretch of pavement around you. You scold yourself for not grabbing anything before running away; you didn’t even bother looking for your phone.

Now, as you sit on the bench, you wish you had a way of contacting someone, anyone. Maybe Griffin, he’d come get you. But you don’t have his number memorized; you’d just have to call the police.

As you think over your options, your eyes flick to a man walking down the street toward you. He scrolls through his phone as he walks, laughing at something on the screen. He walks past you on the bench but stops a few feet away before turning around and approaching you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tucking his phone into his pocket. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks genuinely concerned. You wonder if you should tell him the truth, if you should ask him to call the police for you.

“Um, yeah,” you say, squeezing your knees tighter. You don’t want to seem too vulnerable to this stranger.

“Do you need help?” he asks, crouching down so he can make eye contact with you. His brown eyes connect with yours, and the look he gives you truly conveys kindness. “You could call someone on my phone if you need to, here.” He places his phone on the bench beside you. 

You pick it up with shaking fingers and stare at the keypad, unsure who to call. You should call your dad, but for some reason, you don’t want to. Maybe you don’t want to scare him; maybe you don’t want to put him in danger.

In the end, you decide the police are your best option. You look up the number for the police station Griffin works at, and as you dial it, you notice another man walking down the street. He’s not alone but instead flanked by three more figures.

They approach and stand behind the man who’d let you borrow his phone. 

The phone rings and rings and rings. 

“This one?” one of the new men asks aloud. Your heart sinks.

The line goes dead.

“Yeah,” the brown-eyed man says, grinning. “She’s the one.”

You’re surrounded, unarmed, and suddenly paralyzed with fear. “Who are you?” you ask, pushing yourself back into the bench as if that will save you from whatever they have planned.

“My name is Jack Rollins,” the brown-eyed man tells you. His hand reaches out, grabs his phone from your fingers, and puts it in his coat pocket. “You’re coming with us.” Two men behind the bench reach out and grip your arms, dragging you from your seat.

You kick and scream, twisting your body to get them to release you, but it’s no use. One of them slaps his hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“She’s fuckin’ testy,” one of the men grabbing you grunts, tightening his grip on you.

“Just how I like ‘em,” Jack sneers.

The men drag you down the street, and you notice a black van that must’ve been there the entire time; you just hadn’t seen it in your earlier panic.

You know you can’t let them get you in the van. If you get in the van, you’re as good as dead.

You let your body give out, becoming dead weight to the two men carrying you. Your body sinks to the ground, and you use their surprise to your advantage, getting one of your arms free. You kick and scratch, fighting tooth and nail to escape their grips.

Everyone freezes when two gunshots fire from behind you. The men draw their weapons, while one grabs you from the ground and holds you against his chest, a human shield. You realize it’s Jack, and you hold your breath.

Bodies fall all around you, gunshots ringing through the air.

You open your eyes, not realizing they’d been squeezed shut. When you’re finally able to focus on the people around you, you see Loki, gun drawn, taking out the men who’d tried to force you into the van.

His face is unreadable, but you can see fury flickering in his eyes. He turns his gaze to you, and his brow furrows.

“Let her go,” Loki commands, but Jack just grips you tighter.

“Stop shooting, and I will,” he responds, voice wavering slightly. “What’s so special about her anyway?”

Loki shakes his head, not deigning to reply. But honestly, you want an answer too. Why is Loki going through all this trouble to save you? Why does he care?

“Who do you work for?” Loki asks, cocking his head. His gun is still drawn, still pointed straight at you and Jack. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts walking the two of you back toward the van. Your legs drag beneath you, trying to slow him down, but it does nothing. Loki slowly walks forward, not letting Jack get too far away.

When Jack reaches the van’s passenger side, he uses one hand to open the door. You brace yourself for whatever comes next, but you don’t expect him to toss you to the ground like he does.

You land hard on your hands and knees as the van speeds away, tires squealing. 

Loki tucks his gun into his waistband, and you look around, realizing no one is left to fight him. Everyone is either dead or escaped in the van.

You try to stand, but your legs wobble beneath you, and you crumple back down, though you never hit the ground. Loki sweeps you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

His heartbeat thuds against his ribcage, a metronome for your shaking breaths.

Loki carries you the entire way back to the house in silence. You don’t even think about escaping his grasp. Part of you knows he’d find you and drag you right back. It’s terrifying.

You think back to earlier in the week when you’d promised yourself that you’d fight him at every turn. You promised you wouldn’t let this be easy for him. What happened to all that?

In all honesty, you know what happened. You’re exhausted, and you don’t know what to think anymore. The world is becoming increasingly unfamiliar to you with each passing day.

Loki carries you across the threshold of his home, and you think he’ll put you down in the entryway, but he doesn’t. He keeps you in his arms until he gets to the sitting room you’d entered through when looking for your father.

A fire roars in the fireplace, warming the room comfortably. Loki sets you down on an ottoman near the fire with a gentleness you hadn’t expected him to be capable of. He stands at full height, rolling his sleeves up to reveal toned arms.

You take in his form, how his black clothes fit him perfectly, hugging his chest and thighs. As your eyes track down his body, you notice he’s bleeding from a large gash on his leg. 

“You’re hurt,” you say, choking on the words. Loki’s head drops, investigating his wound.

He holds a hand against the cut on his leg, but you know he needs to do more than just keep pressure if he’s ever going to heal. He doesn’t question you when you step away and make your way to the en-suite powder room, digging through the cabinet under the sink.

You don’t miss the way he rolls his eyes when you return with a first-aid kit. It’s clearly been used plenty, but it’s restocked well enough.

It’ll have to do.

After you’ve gathered all the supplies you think you’ll need to take care of his wound, you return to the sitting room. Loki has taken a seat in a large wingback chair, though he sits on the edge, so he doesn’t bleed on the fabric.

You sink to your knees before him, face heating at the action. You place a hand gingerly on top of his, gently urging him to remove his hand from his leg.

“Here, let me,” you say quietly, moving his hand away. His pant leg is torn around the wound, and you can see that one of the men had probably slashed at him with a knife. You hadn’t even noticed him getting that close.

A small pair of scissors is all you need to cut the fabric of his pants away from his wound. Loki mumbles something under his breath about how expensive they were, but you need to be able to see what you’re doing. If he didn’t want to fuck up his fancy pants, he shouldn’t have gotten himself into this situation.

You carefully wipe the wound with a wet cloth. Loki growls at you deep in his throat, clenching his hands at his sides. “Just hold still.” 

“That hurts,” Loki grunts, watching you clean the wound.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much,” you snap, not caring about having an attitude right now. He can deal.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words.

“Well, if you hadn’t scared the shit out of me, I wouldn’t have run away.”

Loki lets your words sink in; the only sound in the room is the crackling of the wood in the fire. 

“Well,” he says after a moment, “you shouldn’t have been in the West Wing.”

You huff out a laugh at his words. Of course he’s still caught up on that. You know you shouldn’t have seen what you did, but that’s not important right now.

“Well, you should learn to control your temper.”

You wait for Loki to come up with a snappy response, but instead, he lowers his head, seeming to let the argument fade.

You’re satisfied with how clean the wound is, so you ready a needle and thread, trying to gauge how many stitches you’ll have to put in. “Now, hold still. This may sting a little.”

Loki says nothing to acknowledge what you’ve said, but you catch the grunt he makes when you stick him with the needle.

You end up putting six stitches into the wound, tying it up nicely, considering you’ve never done this before. As you place the antibiotic ointment and bandage on his leg, you feel his eyes on you, watching your hands as they graze his skin. “By the way,” you begin quietly, “thank you for saving my life.”

You look up at Loki from where you’re kneeling and see how beautiful he is this way. He is made of power, born to control. His gaze is like fire, licking at your skin.

“You’re welcome, my flower.”

Series Tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @apollonshootafar @apollonshootafar

General Tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4

#jane’s writing #dance with the devil masterlist #dance with the devil #loki laufeyson #loki x f!reader #beauty and the beast #fairytale retelling #mafia au #loki #loki laufeyson marvel #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #loki laufeysin x f!reader #loki x you #loki x reader #loki laufeyson smut. #loki fluff #loki smut. #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #fem reader #marvel au #marvel fan fiction

[inkstaindusk]

kohiiai swan lake au (not!fic)

I planned to post this before swan Kohaku scout ended and then I pulled him yesterday, which is as good a sign as any.

Here it is! At last! I do not remember when I first said I wanted to see Aira as Odette but I'm sure it's been a long time. If any of you remember that, I hope you're not disappointed!

Note: I say kohiiai but it's really mostly hiiai and kohaai, with hiikoha only being mentioned in the epilogue since it just works out that way. It's there, it exists, but it doesn't happen during the main plot

This is ~5k words, broken up into 4 acts + prologue and epilogue. I'll also add some minor notes in a reblog

--

prologue

The story doesn't start with Hiiro—it starts with Aira wandering into an empty wing of a certain place, where he comes across a boy alone who is very alarmed and confused by his presence. After some freaking out, they manage to calm down and Aira hangs out with him for a while until he realizes what time it is and he has to leave. Aira asks if they can stay in touch. The boy can’t help but say yes

act 1

Act 1 opens on Prince Hiiro going hunting after an unproductive conversation with his brother the king. Not that he would call any conversation with Rinne unproductive but he didn’t really understand the point of it (and Rinne would definitely call it unproductive, as once again Hiiro is completely missing what he means when he says “you’re allowed to want things and make choices please ask me to give you things such as a day off. do you want a day off? you’re getting a day off”). In any case, Hiiro now has a day off and is not sure what to do, so he’s making himself useful by heading into the forest to catch a nice dinner. Maybe it’ll help Rinne stop looking so tired.

(Their father died fairly recently, so Rinne has only just become king and is still struggling to get a handle on things.)

He catches sight of a swan and chases after it because swans are a rare delicacy, but he loses sight of it somewhere deep in the forest. He wanders around a bit trying to remember where he came from, long enough that the sun sets and he comes across a lake that he’s never seen before, so he’s pretty sure he’s lost. Also he never even caught anything. He’s in the middle of scolding himself when he hears a sound and, thinking it’s an animal, almost attacks the pretty boy watching him from behind a tree.

“What are you doing here?” asks Hiiro.

“What are you doing here?’ responds Aira, because obviously it’s Aira, though Hiiro doesn’t know that yet. “People don’t come this far into the forest.”

Hiiro explains that he was hunting and chased a swan too far and now he’s lost. Aira scoffs, rolls his eyes, but offers to show him the way out. Hiiro takes it. Aira calls him an idiot for accepting help so easily and Hiiro says, “Why shouldn’t I trust you?” and Aira calls him an idiot again but still shows him the way out. Hiiro notices that it somehow seems easier to leave, but thinks he’s just tired and doesn’t examine it any further.

As the forest starts to open up and become familiar again, Hiiro asks for his name, which Aira gives with some reluctance. Hiiro then asks again what he’s doing here and Aira dodges the question by basically going oh look there’s the exit now get out. Hiiro leaves it alone and it’s not until later that he realizes Aira didn’t come with him.

By the time he returns, it’s long past dinner and the palace is in an uproar and Rinne does not collapse in relief when someone informs him that Hiiro has returned but he sure does want to. Hiiro tells him he got a bit lost, which is concerning because they both grew up navigating that forest, but Rinne is more focused on the fact that he gave Hiiro a day off and Hiiro chose to spend it working.

Knowing that trying to have that conversation with him for a second time that day won’t amount to anything, he instead tells Hiiro that he’s decided to host a ball next month and he wants him to participate. Hiiro asks if he means as a guard and he tells him, no, you’re attending as my brother, the prince and I want you to talk to the other guests. Hiiro assumes he means he wants him to gather information or form a connection or something, Rinne doesn’t correct him.

act 2

Hiiro decides he should thank Aira for helping him, so he gets a little food basket together and tries to find that place again. He doesn’t, but he does find the swan, which flies away as soon as it spots him, but he’s not really invested in catching it anyway. He thinks, absurdly, that it’s kind of pretty, like Aira, and that makes him even more reluctant to chase after it.

Eventually though, the sun begins to set, and he really should start going back, but he decides to stay until just before sun down and miraculously, he finds the lake again. Aira is sitting lakeside, and this time he’s not alone, talking with the dark-haired man beside him.

“Aira!” Hiiro calls happily, startling both of them.

“What are you doing here?” Aira exclaims.

Hiiro explains that he wanted to see him and then asks who his friend is. It’s Mayoi, who greets him nervously but kindly. Aira asks why he wanted to see him. Hiiro says that he never properly thanked him and offers the food, which luckily is still good. Aira is baffled, but accepts it.

Mayoi, who up to now was trying to decide between staying to watch and running for trees (and still watching) says something about how Aira has made a friend.

“I did not!” Aira says, horrified, at the same time Hiiro says, hopefully, “This makes us friends?”

(Ok so the thing is, Hiiro was told all his life that he Cannot Make Friends as the second prince. He was kept away from most other kids, and those he did interact was always in a political context so he doesn’t really know what makes people friends. Aira isn’t nobility though so he thinks they can be friends??? maybe????)

“No,” Aira says quickly. Hiiro wilts. So does Mayoi. “Thanks for the food,” Aira tells Hiiro flatly and gets to his feet. “Don’t come back here.” He leaves and Mayoi is left with Hiiro, who is disappointed but willing to accept Aira’s rejection, although he would really have liked to be friends with him.

Mayoi kind of sways in place for a second, wanting to go after Aira but not wanting to leave a stranger alone, and then says, “Um, please don’t take offense.” He tells him that Aira was definitely happy to get the basket, he’s just awkward with friendship, but, um, if you really like him, please come again. It would be nice if he could make another friend. And then he takes off.

Hiiro is hesitant to tread on Aira’s wishes, but with Mayoi’s words, he decides to take the chance.

He visits again. Eventually, Aira starts to open up. His denials about being Hiiro’s friend start to lose both weight and conviction and they have actual conversations now. Hiiro likes Aira more with every visit. He also learns that there are a few others around too (don’t ask me who all is there idk, maybe branco? because swan tori, though i like to think they all turn into a variety of animals) and Hiiro has no idea what they’re all doing here but hey, if they want to hang out in a forest all night, who is he to judge? At any rate, he likes them. Aira is his favorite.

(unimportant but one scene I have in my mind is of Hiiro dozing off with his head in Aira’s lap one night and he’s half-asleep so he’s kind of aware but not really of what’s going on, but Aira’s fingers are in his hair and it feels really nice, and then he sort of hears Aira having a conversation with someone that basically amounts to them going, “hey, you like him and I think he likes you and I think this can all work out” and Aira going “I can’t.”

But Hiiro is still dozing so none of it really registers to him, and Aira wakes him up a little bit later because it’s late and he definitely needs to leave before everyone at the palace starts freaking out again)

Overall it’s a fun time, but Aira doesn’t completely accept him until one day Hiiro visits just before sunset and watches a swan at the lake swim to the shoreline and as the sun sets, the swan turns into Aira.

It’s revelation time - Hiiro makes himself known and Aira freaks but Hiiro is honestly pretty calm about it. He thinks it’s cool and interesting until he sees that Aira is actually upset about this. Aira starts to explain:

Once upon a time, he trespassed somewhere. When he was discovered, he was punished by being cursed into a swan. Others tried to help him and also got cursed for their trouble, until someone managed to find another witch/sorcerer/mage to reverse the curse. Unfortunately, they could only do so much—by day, everyone would be animals and only at night, in the forest and by the magic lake, could they turn back into human.

“The curse can’t be broken?” Hiiro asks, horrified and angry and already vowing to find whoever did this.

Aira laughs brokenly. “It can be,” he says, “but it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“I have to fall in love with a stranger,” he answers. “They have to have never loved before, and they have to love me back, and we have to accept each other fully.”

“How is that impossible?” Aira is so very loveable in Hiiro’s eyes, and considering how he acts with the others, he knows Aira has a lot of love in him, too. What really seems impossible is that this curse wasn’t broken ages ago.

Aira looks away, then reveals, “I already love someone. Maybe we’ll never meet again like this, but I won’t ever stop loving him.”

Oh, Hiiro thinks. Of course, it’s this which makes him realize he loves Aira.

He doesn’t tell him. Aira kicks him out soon after, and Hiiro returns early to the palace in a daze. He loves Aira, but Aira loves someone else enough to stay a swan forever for him. He’s not sure what to do. He wants to help Aira, but he can’t.

Naturally, the next morning, he consults Rinne, saying I love someone but they love someone else, and also that person is in trouble and won’t let me help. Rinne is mentally screaming as he listens to all of this and exchanges a Look with Niki (who yes is there and married to Rinne but not technically king consort just because he doesn’t want to be, anyway not important).

The logical advice to give is to look for other ways to help and to respect the other person’s feelings. Unfortunately, Rinne is not logical, loves his brother to death, married the first person he ever fell in love with, and has only really been hoping to get him to make a friend but holy shit he’s in love?? He refuses to let this chance to go to waste, so instead he tells Hiiro to not give up and court them properly, be honest about his feelings, and also invite this person to the ball because he wants to meet them and convince them to love his brother back or god help me—

Anyway, Hiiro listens earnestly. Niki is like ffs Rinne but doesn’t fully shut down Rinne’s advice and says, “Maybe just invite them to the ball first and see how it goes.” Rinne grumbles but goes yeah ok fine I guess and Hiiro agrees.

He goes to the forest again that very night. Aira honestly didn’t expect to see him. It’s kind of awkward for him, but HIiro as always bowls right on over that. He tells him about the ball in just a few days and asks him to come. Aira is shocked and confused by this and asks why and what and why. Hiiro says that he really wants him there and it’s at night, so he should be safe and it would be nice to be able to spend time together somewhere different.

Aira doesn’t definitively say yes, but neither does he reject the invitation. He decides to stick to a maybe and, well, Hiiro will take it. He smiles broadly and says, “I really hope to see you there, Aira.” Aira blushes.

act 3

Hiiro’s visits have not gone unnoticed, and they don’t want Aira becoming human again.

Meanwhile, it’s time for the ball. Hiiro is used to attending these as Rinne’s second and as a guard, but not as a prince, so it’s a little weird. He makes small talk and handles himself decently enough. Some people are fine. Some are a little weird. He’s doing okay. Mostly, though, he watches the door, anxiously waiting to see if Aira will come walking in. (Rinne is also watching the door, wanting to see who his brother loves so much. Multiple people have to stop and hit him to get him to actually do his duties)

Later into the night, the door opens, and—it is Aira.

Or, it looks like Aira.

Hiiro is excited! Of course he is, it’s Aira! And he looks incredible and he’s smiling at Hiiro and sure, he hasn’t said much, but he knows Aira can be shy sometimes and he probably hasn’t been around so many strangers in a long time so he understands why he’d be a bit nervous. He’s more than happy to do most of the talking because! Aira!!

(Usually, his instincts would be telling him to be careful, that something is wrong. There’s a slight unease in him, yes, but today, it doesn’t scream immediate danger, and so he pays it little mind.)

One of the staff taps on his shoulder and tells him that someone wants to speak with him. “Aira” shoos him off and Hiiro, a little upset but trying not to be because that’s rude, goes to meet with whoever called him. He’s led to the garden, which isn’t exactly private, but private enough while also having enough background noise that meeting someone here isn’t suspicious.

“Oh, Tsukasa-kun!” Hiiro says, pleasantly surprised to see who’s waiting for him. Tsukasa is a prince from a small kingdom, a bit too distant to be a neighbor but not far enough that they’ve never met before.

Tsukasa looks a little off as he says, “How do you know Shiratori-kun?”

“Shiratori?”

“The boy you’ve been with all night! Shiratori Aira!”

Hiiro is not sure what he expected from this meeting, but it’s definitely not someone asking him about Aira. “You know Aira?” He didn’t know his last name was Shiratori. Was he turned into a swan because of his name?

“Sort of,” Tsukasa says, then, “Not really. We’ve never spoken, but I know—ugh, just, why do you know him?”

Hiiro is an honest guy, but he knows it’s not safe to talk about Aira’s situation. As much as he trusts Tsukasa, he cares about keeping Aira safe more. “We’re friends.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Hiiro frowns. “Why?”

Tsukasa looks conflicted and doesn’t answer immediately. Just when he’s about to say something, someone calls for him. He makes a frustrated sound, but can’t ignore the call so he quickly tells Hiiro to be careful before the call comes again, more insistent, and he runs off.

Hiiro returns to “Aira” confused, but keeps Tsukasa’s words in mind. He tells “Aira” that he was just saying his greetings to another prince and “Aira” doesn’t ask further. Hiiro tries not to let his unease show.

A little while later, Rinne calls for Hiiro and his companion to meet with him in a private room.

“So this is the one,” Rinne says, watching “Aira” closely.

Hiiro introduces them. “Aira” looks nervous, but greets him with an appropriate bow. Rinne then chooses not to waste any time and asks Hiiro if he’s decided what to do. (“Aira” tenses with this question, but it goes unnoticed) Hiiro says yes and is that okay, Nii-san? Rinne rolls his eyes and nods and tells him to get on with it.

Hiiro turns to “Aira” and gently, with all of the proper manners instilled in him from a young age, asks to court him.

“Aira” looks back at him, wide-eyed, shocked, and a little—fearful?

And then there’s a small bang on the nearby window and they all look in time to see the white feathers of a swan flying away. Hiiro gasps and “Aira” rips himself from him to rush to the window opened just a crack and he shouts, “Love-han!”

That is not Aira’s voice.

Hiiro is quick to grab a sword from the wall—mostly ornamental, but still very real—and point it at the impostor’s back. “Who are you?” he demands coldly.

(Rinne’s mind is working overtime to understand the current situation. Poor Rinne.)

The impostor doesn’t move for a second. He’s still staring out the window, tightly gripping the sill, and Hiiro has to repeat himself to get his attention. The impostor starts to lift his hands and Hiiro presses the sword closer to his back, but all he does is unclasp the necklace around his neck. Then his whole appearances changes, bleeding from Aira into a total, pink-haired stranger. He keeps his hands lifted in surrender as he turns around, at the same time tossing the necklace to the side.

(Huh, thinks Rinne. Well then.)

“Who are you?” Hiiro asks for a third time.

“My name is Oukawa Kohaku, but that’s not important.”

“I think it is.”

“Love—I mean, Aira-han just flew away! You know about the curse right?”

Hiiro scowls. “Yes.”

“And you love him, right?” (It’s painful to say these words, but from what Kohaku has seen tonight, Hiiro is more than good enough for Aira. This—he can accept this, just as long as Hiiro listens.)

“Of course!”

“Then you have to go after him! Right now! Before he dies!”

“What?” Hiiro is too good to drop the sword in his surprise, but he goes deathly pale. “What do you mean?” Kohaku doesn’t elaborate, physically cannot in fact, as his throat seals on him before he can, and Hiiro’s head is spinning in so many different directions yet always lands on Aira oh god Aira. “What do you mean?”

Rinne sets a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, but he thinks he has a pretty good idea. “Hiiro, he can’t answer,” he says solemnly. “Isn’t that right?” He looks at Kohaku, who swallows thickly and closes his eyes, which is as good as a yes. Hiiro is shaking—with rage, with fear, with so many exhausting emotions.

There’s a knock on the door, and because I do need to insert Tatsumi in here somewhere, it’s Tatsumi, saying that Prince Eichi of [insert kingdom] wants to talk to them. Rinne says not now but Tatsumi says it’s urgent and then Eichi speaks up from behind him to say, “You want to know about Aira-kun, right? So let me in.”

They let him in. Tsukasa follows after him and Kohaku flinches when he sees him. They close the door behind them as Eichi greets them idly, not even looking like someone is currently being held at swordpoint in front of him. Tsukasa looks upset and glares a little at Hiiro, but doesn’t do anything.

Rinne demands to know what’s going on and what he knows. Eichi explains that basically, he recognized that the “Aira” who was going around with Hiiro wasn’t the real Aira and he intended to find a time to tell them, like Tsukasa, but both of them kept being held up. He then reveals that he and Aira are related (half-brothers or cousins, up to you, but either way he’s not “formally” recognized by the family and is basically a commoner) and that he was the one who found a way to lessen the affects of the original curse and he’s been searching for a way to break it fully ever since. Hopefully, he isn’t too late.

“Aira was here, wasn’t he?” he then says, looking directly at Kohaku, who nods. “Then you need to go now. We’ll be right behind you, but there are some things we need to take care of first.”

Somehow this works and Hiiro agrees to take Kohaku to the lake. Rinne says that he expects to meet the real Aira soon, and then sends them off through a secret passage with Tatsumi to escort and help if he can.

They leave, riding out with Hiiro and Kohaku on a horse together and Tatsumi following suit. Hiiro has made this route so many times that it’s all muscle memory to him. It gives him a little bit of time to think. Most of it is just about Aira, but some of it is thinking about the other boy with him.

“You know Aira,” he says over the rush of wind in their ears.

Kohaku’s grip tightens. “A long time ago. We were… friends.” His voice is wistful and full of longing. The pieces slot into place.

“You’re the one he loves,” Hiiro realizes.

Once upon a time, Aira travelled to a small kingdom, where he accidentally wandered into an isolated wing and met Kohaku. They became fast friends and agreed to stay in touch, but Aira did not know that Kohaku was never supposed to meet anyone, or exist in the first place. The next time he visited in person, their relationship was discovered. The king Tsukasa’s grandfather took offense to this, believing Aira and their relationship to be some sort of threat, and intended to have Kohaku cursed. Kohaku’s family negotiated viciously to keep their only son alive, and it ended up that Aira was cursed in his place.

(Kohaku was sent here tonight after the king discovered that Hiiro might break Aira’s curse. He thought making Kohaku seal his coffin would be the punishment he couldn’t give back then.)

“I don’t… Even if he loved me once, I’m the reason it’s ended up like this,” Kohaku says. “I doubt he feels anything but hatred for me now.”

Hiiro shakes his head. Remembers what Aira sounded like as he talked about the boy he would never stop loving. It ached, but even so, Aira looked beautiful in love. “No. He loves you.”

act 4

Mayoi meets them partway through the forest, having been intending to look for them himself if they never showed. Tatsumi briefly introduces himself when Mayoi looks at him wondering who he is, and then Mayoi greets Hiiro and to Kohaku says hello again. Instead of saying it back, Kohaku apologizes, but Mayoi shakes his head and says that none of this is his fault and that he knows he only ever wanted to love Aira.

As they walk, Hiiro takes the time to ask why Aira is dying, since that still hasn’t been explained to him.

Mayoi explains that there was another part of the curse: it would break if he loves someone and is loved back, but if that love was broken, the curse would turn back on him and kill him. He’ll live for as long as he remains human, but once the sun rises and he turns back into a swan, that’s it. He then says, “We found out just a little while ago that [Tsukasa’s grandfather] was disguised someone as Aira-san. He went to warn you that the ‘him’ at the ball was a fake, but… Well, he told us about what he saw. That’s not what really happened though, is it?”

Hiiro shakes his head emphatically. “No! I love Aira!”

Mayoi smiles sadly. “I thought so.”

(quick side note: Aira as a swan was not affected by the glamor magic on the necklace, due to being a magic swan himself—meaning that when he saw Hiiro confessing his love, he saw him confessing to Kohaku.)

They make it to the lake. Everyone is there and Aira is on the ground, half crying and half, well, dying. Hiiro and Kohaku both run to him, but then Hiiro stops, letting Kohaku go first.

Kohaku sinks to his knees next to Aira, takes his hand. They say Love-han and Kohakucchi and I’m sorry and I love you, I still love you, please, not this.

“You love me?” Aira murmurs.

“I love you,” Kohaku says.

Hiiro watches and is not upset. He can’tbe , because Aira is beautiful when he’s in love. He doesn’t know Kohaku, and distrusted him for obvious reasons, but not anymore, not when it’s clear he didn’t have a choice, and he doesn’t believe Aira would love anyone this much if he were a bad person. So, Hiiro is happy as long as Aira is still alive.

Except, he doesn’t seem to be getting better even in the arms of his love. He’s still pale and has to be held up by Kohaku, and every so often he shudders and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain.

“Why isn’t he getting better?” Hiiro whispers. Aira’s love wasn’t betrayed; he should be getting better.

Kohaku murmurs something to Aira.

Aira looks up and asks why Hiiro is standing all the way over there. He tells him to come over here and Hiiro, helpless, does. He wants to take Aira’s hand, but doesn’t, thinking it’s not his place, except Aira and Kohaku make the choice for him. Kohaku lets go of Aira’s hand and Aira reaches for Hiiro.

“You love me, Hiro-kun?” Aira asks, having just been told that Kohaku was glamored to look like him.

“Yes,” Hiiro answers honestly, because he won’t lie about this.

In between shudders of the curse draining the life from him, Aira says, “I’ve loved Kohakucchi for years, and I never thought I would stop. I haven’t. But I… I was happy when you kept coming back to see me, even though you didn’t know me. I liked talking to you. You’re really weird and can be a huge idiot sometimes, but you’re kind and fun to be with and you wanted to be my friend just because I helped you out. And, tonight, if that had really been me at the ball who you asked to court…” He shudders, closes his eyes, grips Hiiro tightly. “If you had asked, I think I would have said yes.”

Hiiro gasps, caught somewhere between elation and disbelief. “You would?” Aira nods. “But…” He looks at Kohaku, who’s been watching from right next to them, unsurprised.

“Love-han can love whoever he wants,” Kohaku says. “I just want him to be happy.”

“I do too,” Hiiro agrees slowly.

Aira groans. “I love both of you, you idiots. If either of you has a problem with that, say it now.” He glares at both of them, which is a bit of a feat considering how terrible he looks at the moment.

But Hiiro has no problems with it. Neither does Kohaku. They both love Aira, and they both wouldn’t mind getting to know the other now that they’re at this point. Even if it doesn’t turn into love between each other (spoilers: it will) they would be okay with it.

Aira is still dying though. The curse has already started working against him, and while Tatsumi has some magic to ease the pain, he doesn’t know anything about curses. Although they’ve confirmed their feelings, it’s too late. All anyone can do is make him comfortable.

Of course, this is when another entourage comes in—that being Rinne, Tsukasa, Eichi and some others. Eichi is solemn as he approaches them. Aira calls out to him, surprised, and Eichi responds gently, sending him a smile, before beckoning someone from the group to approach.

It’s Natsume. In fact, it was Natsume’s mother who helped Aira before and it weighed on them that she wasn’t able to do much. He still can’t break the curse, but like his mother, he can rework it so Aira won’t die tonight. That’s good enough for them, so Natsume gets to work.

What ends up happening is that, when he reworks the curse, it’s immediately broken. After all, Aira is loved, and he loves them back.

epilogue

Tsukasa’s grandfather faces consequences of course. By dying. Was it illness? Was it assassination? If anyone knows, they’re not telling. Tsukasa’s parents, the new king and queen, are… working on fixing things. At some point both the Suous and the Oukawas have to apologize to Aira and everyone else who got cursed and it’s all very awkward, especially for the Oukawas who deliberately sacrificed Aira to keep Kohaku safe but also, like, Aira sort of did it willingly because he certainly didn’t want Kohaku to be a swan for eternity. Still. It’s not a fun time.

Everyone who was cursed either gets to return to their original lives or they get new jobs. Either way, they all stay in touch. Mayoi of course gets employed in the palace so he can stay with Aira and Hiiro (and thus alkaloid is formed).

Eichi still cannot formally recognize Aira as his family, so as far as anyone else is aware, he and the Amagis just randomly started doing business with each other. Aira still thinks of himself more as a commoner than of royal blood, so their relationship is also a little stilted, but the affection is there.

And what about the actual main characters?

Well, Aira reunites with his parents. They weren’t all that close originally, but they still love each other so it’s a tearful reunion all the same. He lives with them for a little while, but with his relationship with Hiiro, he eventually moves into the palace.

Rinne approves of him and basically adopts him on the spot. They surprisingly have a lot in common, but Aira still finds him weird and unsettling and honestly kind of scary sometimes and it’s only partly because he’s The Literal King. He also adopts Kohaku while he’s at it during the brief period of time before he has to go back to his family.

Speaking of which, it takes literal months of negotiation to get Tsukasa and the Oukawas to allow Kohaku to return. They eventually agree to short, careful, supervised visits. After the first few go extremely well, Rinne and Aira begin to anticipate the long negotiations to eventually allow Kohaku to get married and stay permanently. Hiiro and Kohaku are a little slower on the uptake, but they figure out they’re in love eventually.

And they all lived happily ever after. The End

#enstars #aira shiratori #hiiro amagi #kohaku oukawa #kohiiai #hiiai #kohaai #ensemble stars #shiratori aira #amagi hiiro #oukawa kohaku #enstars lb #notfic #ideas

[meetmymouth]

theadora, part ten

previous parts | full chapters on patreon | playlist | pinterest

notes: alcohol consumption. this is at glenne's birthday party, and happens after part nine so it is NOT a flashback! | wc: 5k+

* * *

She knows it comes as a surprise to people at the party, her being here. She knows it from the hesitant smiles, the nods and the whispering amongst each other, and she knows it because a few people have already mentioned how her presence has come as a surprise to them because you know… he’s here. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she would be here until the last minute, which is why she’s wearing an odd combination of a dress and a pair of cowboy boots which she would never do in any circumstance. Her hair is a bit messy, forehead oily, and makeup is a bit rushed, but she looks decent enough to be here, she thinks.

She came, because she knew people weren’t expecting to see her. They would expect to see anyone, especially the man himself, Harry Styles here, but not her. Because she was the ‘mum’, the woman, the underdog– always the victim, always sad and wailing after a divorce.

Was she sad? Probably. Was she ready to party? Positive.

She came, because she wanted to prove herself, and everyone wrong. Even now, talking to a producer from Calabasas, she feels somehow out of place, a bit awkward, but at least she can crack jokes and nod along to the man’s conversation.

Then, she sees him.

He comes out of the little kitchen area at the back, dressed in a brown, striped suit, hair perfectly styled– and it makes her heart ache. However, she can’t look longer because someone walks up to him, and hugs him as she watches his arms wrap around their body one last time before she turns to the man in front of her.

Glenne comes to the rescue.

“Can I steal you for a bit?” She asks, smiling at the man before she walks them towards where the drinks are. She squeezes her waist. “Irv wants to say hi.”

Y/N smiles. “Why didn’t he come up to me?”

“Your ego is astounding. Come on, get another drink– you’ve been drinking that since you came in, it must taste like pee.”

She makes her put the glass down on one of the vacant tables, and they each grab a fresh one before walking up to Irving Azoff, who is now standing in one corner with Jeff and Lilly, Harry’s personal assistant.

It’s awkward with her– it is, because she’s practically like family now, and when Y/N divorced from Harry, it also felt like divorcing from Lilly as well with her handling most of the paperwork and all.

Lilly turns to her, and smiles. “Y/N,” she says, voice low despite the music. “Hi.”

“Hi, Lilly. Jeff, Irv…”

Irving smiles, and places his hands on her shoulders. “Hi, darling,” he squeezes. “So good to see you here. Show him what he’s missing–”

Jeff clears his throat. “–Dad.”

“It’s good to see you as well, Irv.”

Irving smiles, and brings her into a hug. They talk about work– her work, Irving talks about a new, nightmare artist and when she feels his presence behind her, it’s almost as though the time stops.

It does, because she doesn’t see or hear anyone else apart from him– him behind her, his cologne– the same one she loved, bitter and strong, but still lovely. She turns her face a little, then turns back to the group, and Harry takes another step forward so that he stands next to Lilly. Placing his arms around her. He looks at everyone but her.

“Are you high?” Jeff calls from his left, and the group–except her–laugh, Glenne flicking him in the chest.

Harry steals a glance at her, and she looks down immediately, at her shoes, feeling her cheeks get hot at the realisation that she’s just got caught staring at him.

“No,” Harry says. “No, ‘m not,” another glance at her. He nods. “Hi, Y/N.”

She feels a weight on her tongue, though she’s quick to nod back. “Hello.”

She can feel the eyes on both of them, sceptic looks piercing through them like a poisonous dagger. She doesn’t care, though, not that much. What bothers her is how Harry turns back to the group and how the little moment seems to be forgotten already. She feels her body crave the attention– his attention, and it makes her jealous; jealous of everyone in that room, everyone who gets to talk to her ex-husband for more than a second. She knows it’s a foolish thought, knowing they’re no longer together, but she can’t help but feel this way especially now that they’re standing too close for her liking with the added effect of the night they spent together weeks ago, bodies intertwined together as Harry made her his once again.

She can see the stubble on his face, the bags under his eyes looking more evident now that he’s this close, but she knows they must be due to working and not because of the sleepless nights spent thinking about her and Thea. Or maybe she’s mistaken. She hopes she is.

“So,” Jeff claps his hands. “Where’s Teddy?” He looks between the divorced couple.

Harry looks up at her.

“With my dad and step-mother,” she clears her throat, taking another small sip from the champagne. “Just for the night.”

“I miss her,” Glenne smiles. “Harry’s been showing photos of her to everyone he’s met tonight.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sure, buddy,” Jeff leans across and claps him on the chest.

Lilly and Irving leave, and it’s just the three of them.

It’s awkward.

Then, Glenne leaves to say hi to someone, and Jeff follows close behind, leaving them alone in that corner. She feels a little uncomfortable, like she needs to find something to talk about, but doesn’t have the heart to leave. Not when he’s staring at her cleavage this way, thinking she hasn’t noticed him staring.

She clears her throat, and like clockwork, he looks up at her.

“Uh,” he lets out. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He looks around. “Is she okay? Teddy,” he murmurs, holding the glass tightly.

“Yeah, she’s okay.”

“Your dad would call if something were to go… wrong. Right?”

“Of course,” there’s a defensiveness to her tone. She raises her eyebrows. “Why?”

“I don’t know– no reason. Just worry, ‘s all.”

“Well, you’re here.”

“You are here, too.”

She realises how silly that sounded. She can’t say anything after that.

“Thanks for– thanks for the video you’ve sent me last night,” Harry murmurs, eyes on his shoes. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course, no worries.”

“She’s– I miss her. I know I’ve seen her last week but– yeah.”

She looks up from her glass. “I know,” she mumbles.

She feels guilt bubbling inside her. When she finds his gaze, she can’t take it– looking into his eyes– the ones she loved feeling on her when she undressed, or when they decided to spend their morning in bed. It all seems impossible and too long ago now, and it certainly hurts more than she’s willing to admit.

She looks around when Harry does, has to smile at someone she knows from Harry’s friend group, and both of their gaze return to where they were a moment ago.

Harry clears his throat. “How is your dad? Step-mum?”

“They are fine,” she nods. “How is your mother?”

“Good– yeah, she’s good.”

“Good.”

It’s like they don’t know how to be Harry and Y/N outside their bubble: Y/N’s house when he comes to visit Thea or when it’s just the two– three of them.

He opens his mouth, but is cut off when someone calls his name from their right side. They both turn to the shrill voice, and she has to hold herself back from rolling her eyes at the tall model.

“Hi– again,” she walks over to them, completely ignoring her presence as she leans forward to press kisses to his cheeks.

“Hello, Georgia,” Harry nods, though their eyes meet for only a moment and she has to look away.

She does.

She looks away at the people having fun and getting drunk, and she feels pathetic, standing here with her ex-husband and watching a tall model flirt with him because he’s finally available. She can definitely see the headlines tomorrow, of course, hers would be much more tragic than Harry’s.

“I’m gonna go,” she says, nodding at the both of them.

Harry looks like he’s about to say something, but she doesn’t wait any longer as she starts walking towards Glenne and Jeff, both of them laughing at something Tom is saying.

Glenne notices her first, and the laughter stops, her smile disappearing from her slim face as she opens her arms for her and she gladly accepts the hug, placing her forehead on her shoulder as she sighs.

“You good? Was that Georgia?” Glenne mumbles into her ear.

She nods. “She can have him now that we’re not… together.”

“He doesn’t want her– she’s just… she’s like that with everyone.”

“I don’t care. I shouldn’t care– it’s none of my business, G.”

Glenne breaks the hug. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, yeah I do. I feel terrible, I wish I didn’t come here– no offence. Is that what you all wanted to hear? That I’m so fucking in love with him still that it hurts seeing his past hookups whizzing around him like a bunch of flies?”

“Y/N…”

“No,” she shakes her head, looking around at the other people in their group. Jeff tries to smile at her, but fails. “It’s okay, really. I should– I should get it together. It’s my first night in a while. And,” she frowns, noticing how negative she sounds. “It’s your birthday, you shouldn’t worry about me, babes.”

“You should have fun, you deserve it,” Glenne gives a curt nod. She squeezes her shoulder, and hands her another glass. “Drink up, mama.”

She has fun.

Surrounded by her friends, despite most of them being Harry’s friends, she has fun and doesn’t really think about Harry that often. The only time she remembers his presence is when he comes up to her at the bar while she’s talking to a producer, and he clears his throat.

She turns to him for a moment before turning her attention back to the man, Giovanni.

It’s different for Giovanni, though.

“Hey, man,” he says, lifting his hand for a handshake. Harry doesn’t return the gesture.

“Giovanni.”

“You good, man?”

Harry nods. “Fantastic.”

“I’m just gonna go say hi to Irving,” Giovanni looks between the two, and leaves her standing there on her own, with Harry still standing there awkwardly, an empty glass in his hand.

“Yes?” She looks up, feeling his gaze on her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. He’s just looking for trouble.”

“Excuse me?”

“Giovanni. He’s not a good man.”

“And how do you know,” she lets out a laugh, leaning her back against the bar, the cold metal feeling good on her warm skin.

Harry shakes his head, lips pursing in thought before he recovers. “Do you know how many women he’s tried to pull tonight?”

“What the hell are you on about?” Her eyebrows raise in question, and a crease appears between them in anger. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just saying. I saved you from trouble,” Harry says, shrugging.

“I don’t need you to save me from anyone or anything.”

“I know.”

“So? Leave me alone. Plus,” she shrugs, suddenly feeling too worked up. “The conversation died when I started talking about how I went a day without changing my clothes because I had no one there to look after Teddy.”

He looks away from the crowd, the same crease appearing between his eyebrows this time. He looks hurt, confused, and angry all at the same time.

“How? When was that?” He says, more like mumbles, like he’s not too sure about his voice at the moment.

“Last week. The night after you left,” she murmurs, cheeks feeling hot at the images in her head.

Harry bites his bottom lip, clearly remembering the same things before he recovers. “Your dad?”

“Too far.”

“Robin?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

He looks down. “Me?”

She lets out a chuckle, adjusting the ring on her index finger. “You were on top of the list of the names I wasn’t going to call.”

“Why?”

“Figured you’d be busy,” she says, voice in a low hum.

Harry looks up, gaze fiery. “I was there– I told you I wouldn’t be busy. You should’ve called. I would– I would’ve come.”

“Well,” another shrug, then she sighs. “It is what it is. Don’t worry about it. I changed my clothes in the end, didn’t I?”

“You know Robin would kill you if they learned how you were hesitant about calling them, right?” Harry copies her, and plays with the ‘H’ ring on his finger. She can’t help but watch.

Comfortable silence falls upon them, and she basks in it, not caring about what and how he must feel in that exact moment. She just lets herself feel it, the comfortable silence and how rare it is when it comes to Harry and her, and all the emotions in between. The hurt, the love, the passion, everything in between, she lets herself feel it all. And if they were in private she thinks, she would wrap her arms around his body like she did before, and tell him how much he is missed, despite, despite.

“So,” Harry starts. A chuckle follows close behind. “You talked about Teddy to your potential hook-up?”

She raises her eyebrows. “What? I wasn’t going to hook-up with him, he’s married.”

“So you would hook-up with someone who isn’t married?”

“Not in the mood for that silly game.”

He shrugs. “Forget I said anything.”

She can’t. “Where’s Georgia?”

“What?”

“Georgia?”

“Have no idea. Believe it or not, she left the minute I started talking about Teddy and that one time she peed on me and it went in my mouth.”

She laughs, head going back in a loud laughter. “You did not,” she says, but she can’t help the smile on her face that is getting bigger and bigger.

“I did. I can’t help it,” Harry says, giggling. “I talk about Teddy twenty-four-seven. I’m lucky I have more than three friends.”

“I talk about her a lot as well. It’s like I can’t talk about anything anymore– anything but her.”

He smiles, looking at her. “It’s understandable, though, right? She’s still a baby– she’s perfect. Adorable. She– she’s our whole world.”

“She is,” she nods. “She really is.”

Another comfortable silence, then Harry sighs.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

She looks to her right, to where he’s leaning against the bar much like herself.

“I feel like that’s a loaded question,” she says, looking down at her feet once more before she lifts her gaze. They make eye contact, though he breaks it soon after.

“Sorry,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Another loaded statement, she thinks.

She can only nod. “Yeah,” a quiet murmur. “Me, too.”

“Look,” Harry straightens up, and turns his body to the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

It makes her laugh.

Her laugh makes him laugh, too.

“You can order me a drink,” she says. “I–”

“–Martini?”

“Yes, please.”

Two martinis come and go, and Harry downs another glass of champagne before she decides she’s had enough alcohol in her system. She thinks about the trip back home, and how wasted and gone she will be once she gets there, and the difficult task that awaits her once she gets home: taking her makeup off while sleepy and tipsy. As bad as it sounds, she’s just glad Teddy is staying over at her grandparents, because she doesn’t think she could handle her– look after her properly in this state. She misses her, God she misses her so much, but she’s looking forward to not waking up in the middle of the night for one night only.

“Another?” Harry asks, speech slurred only a little from his seat on one of the bar stools.

She looks up, and shakes her head. “Nope, I’ve had enough.”

“Y’sure? Oh, wait,” he says. “You’ve Teddy.”

“Teddy’s at dad’s for the night– I told you. I just can’t drink like I used to.”

“Oh.”

She hums. When she looks around, she notices Georgia looking at them from the corner she’s standing, blue eyes boring into her soul as she stares back at her. It only lasts seconds, then she turns her face the other way, chin up, like she’s trying to show her how disinterested she is. She’s been caught, Y/N thinks.

“Are you taking Georgia home, is that why she’s been watching us?”

Harry snorts into his glass. “Georgia? No.”

“Hm.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He holds eye contact for a moment, though she breaks it.

She plays with the edge of the counter. “Are you?”

“That’s the kind of question my therapist would ask me.”

“Is it?”

He shakes his head, lips pursing. “Stop it.”

“I’m sorry, my head– I feel like shit, I shouldn’t have drank this much.”

“Sorry for making you drink.”

She lets out a chuckle. “I don’t even know why you asked to buy me a drink when we’re at a birthday party. You’re not even paying.”

“I’m cheap like that.”

She opens her mouth, though a hand on her shoulder stops her.

“We’re cutting the cake,” Glenne says, squeezing before letting go.

The atmosphere around them changes, like Glenne had just come and burst their bubble, though neither of them seem to mind it as they leave their empty glasses at the bar and walk towards where a crowd is forming, an enormous cake being held by one of the waiters right in the middle. It’s a big cake, plenty to go around, and when she gets closer to it she notices that it’s in the shape of a whale, Carvel’s famous fudge cake, and it makes her laugh, because she knows Harry has something to do with the cake, knowing he wanted the same Carvel cake for two birthdays in a row years ago.

The candles are lit, the song is sung, and Glenne blows out the candles with a big smile on her face, looking up at all the phones that are in her face while she’s blowing out all the candles.

Glenne turns around when she finishes hugging Jeff, and brings her arms around both Harry and her, bringing them closer into her body. She hugs them close and tight, and Y/N can’t help but feel choked up at the closeness of Harry’s body, the way his shoulders are touching hers and his hair is almost in her face. It all feels warm and familiar, and she has to break the hug first because she doesn’t trust herself to go on without shedding a few tears.

“Happy birthday, G,” she whispers before pulling apart.

Harry does, too. “Happy birthday, Glenda. You’re getting old,” he laughs, placing his hands in his suit jacket awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She takes a few bites of the cake, tries to chew as much as she can before swallowing so the taste stays much longer in her mouth, and when the clock shows eleven o’clock, she decides she’s had enough socialising for the night. She calls an Uber without letting anyone know, and says goodbye to Glenne and Jeff, hugging Glenne once more before she turns around and starts walking towards the exit. She knows her car has yet to arrive, but she decides some fresh air would do her good, so she sits on one of the benches outside of the club, watching people smoke and tap away on their phones.

Then, he comes.

“Y/N?” He calls from behind her, making her turn her head in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left without saying goodbye,” Harry says, looking around for a moment before he walks over to her, and sits next to her on the bench. “Did you drive?”

“No, I figured I’d drink so I took an Uber.”

“Okay…”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“Can you– I mean. Can you send me a photo of her when you get home?”

It’s vulnerable, the tone of voice, so she can’t help but feel bad for him, for herself, and for Thea– for their broken family.

She bites her bottom lip. “She’s staying over at Dad’s for the night.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Harry nods, though the disappointment is clear in his tone.

“Here, my dad sent me this earlier,” she murmurs, unlocking her phone and going to Whatsapp. “This one.”

It’s one of Teddy in her duck onesie, one Harry had picked out for her before she was even born, and she’s in her grandma’s lap, sleeping peacefully.

Harry brings his face closer, and inspects the photo with a beaming smile on his face. “She– can I come and see her soon? Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” She says, eyes still on the picture.

“Please? I miss her,” Harry says.

“Okay, of course, yeah.”

“And– and, can you send me this photo?”

“Of course,” she nods, fingers already working on the screen so she can forward the photo.

Harry’s phone dings in his hand, and her gaze falls to the lit-up screen, immediately turning her gaze back to her own phone when she notices his lockscreen being the exact same photo it’d been since Thea’s birth. The photo, although she’s only looked at it for a second, brings back memories of her birth, the happiness in both of their eyes and the tears they’d shed before, during, and after Theadora arrived into their little world.

“Thank you,” Harry’s voice pierces through her thoughts.

“You’re welcome.”

“Is that your car,” he asks, looking at the black car that is parked awkwardly on the pavement.

She looks up and purses her lips, then opens the Uber app just to make sure.

“It is.”

“Okay. Uh, I’ll call tomorrow morning before I leave the house,” he nods, eyes hesitant like she would tell him off for suggesting such a thing.

“Okay,” she nods. “Bye, Harry.”

“Yeah, goodbye, Y/N.”

She takes a step in the direction of the car, then another, and then, she’s seated in the backseat. A few words, then the car starts moving, but is abruptly stopped when someone opens the door to the backseat. With a gasp she turns to the source of the disruption, and is met with Harry.

“What the hell?” She screams, hand going to rest on the headrest of the driver’s seat.

She hears the man scream also, and let out a few profanities, asking what the hell Harry’s doing, but Harry keeps looking at her, lips parted like he’s about to do the most crazy thing ever. And, he does. He sits next to her in the backseat, and proceeds to put his seatbelt on despite the driver still shouting from the front.

“What are you doing?” She yells once more. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just–” he looks around, looking almost like a deer caught in headlights. “I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

“Dude, you’re insane.”

“Harry,” she shakes her head, holding onto her seatbelt as the car starts moving again. “You’re crazy. You could’ve texted. What were you thinking?”

“Nothing, clearly.”

“Clearly!”

“I’ll just– I’ll take a car back from your place. I’ll call Gale. It’s fine…”

“This is crazy.”

He looks out the window, chin up like he’s too proud of what just happened. “So you’ve said.”

“Because, it is.”

The rest of the trip is quiet, only the radio accompanying her thoughts while Harry sits quietly next to her and looks out the window like he’s counting the cars as they pass them by. Their position with both of them mute, reminds her of the times they travelled from A to B in complete silence, because they were both stubborn and wanted to give each other the silent treatment. She remembers the missed opportunities in sightseeing in different countries they’d travelled to because of his job. She remembers how it felt like they were two strangers sharing a taxi, the deadly silence and the unbearable thoughts running through her brain.

They arrive at her place, and they both get out silently, with her muttering out a ‘thank you’ before she starts walking towards her front door, with Harry following quietly behind her.

With her hand holding the key in the air, she turns to him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Harry looks up from his shoes. “I don’t know.”

She asks if he’s called for a ride, knowing full well he still hasn’t. He replies, no, not yet.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks, placing the key in the lock. She doesn’t turn it.

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

Jesus, she murmurs. “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”

He nods. She turns the key, and they’re in.

She takes his shoes off, and then her coat, watching quietly as he does the same, though she then notices how he’s lacking a coat, or a jacket. She can’t help but let out a low chuckle at the craziness of it all.

He follows her into the kitchen, passing the toys and baby blankets lying around in the living room, and she notices how he takes longer to get there, to the kitchen, because he falters when he notices all the baby items lying around.

“Sorry for the mess,” she mutters, turning both the kettle, and the coffee machine on. She grabs two mugs, and places one under the coffee maker.

“Don’t be– it feels homey.”

“A mess, though.”

“Feels lived in,” he says, like he’s never been here before.

She shrugs. “I guess.”

Silence falls upon them, with the only source of noise being the two machines preparing their drinks. Harry looks around the kitchen, then decides to lean his back against the counters, hands going in his suit jacket’s pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“How–” he starts, though it’s clear it isn’t well-thought or rehearsed. “–How have you been?”

She chuckles, looking down at her bare feet. “Good, yeah. How about you?”

“I’ve been better.”

She hums.

He looks up. “I didn’t– I can’t stop thinking about it, to be honest,” he says, voice low like he’s letting her in on a secret.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she doesn’t know what to do or say for a couple of minutes.

“What?” She asks, tone matching his.

Harry laughs, dimples out, and looks down like he doesn’t– isn’t ready to make eye contact just yet. “Don’t– you know what.”

She shakes her head. “Harry…”

“No, I know we said it would mess things up– the whole co-parenting thing if we let our feelings get in front of it, but Y/N… I can’t stop thinking about it– about you.”

“It would complicate everything,” she shakes her head.

Harry copies her. “I’m sick of beating around the bush.”

The coffee machine stops, and the kettle is turned off. She turns around, then back to Harry, the coffee long forgotten.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She says, crossing her arms.

“I want you. I want this– us. I don’t give a fuck about the divorce– the papers, the visiting arrangements… I want to try– be us. Just us three.”

She laughs, though it doesn’t come as a joyous one. “You’re crazy. We can’t even carry a conversation– I mean the last time we saw each other, you fucked me in this same spot.”

“And I would do it again,” he nods, curtly.

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t– stop trying to change the subject. I want you– not even talking about the sex. I want to try. Give me a chance.”

She looks around, eyes stinging all of a sudden.

If this is everything she’s wanted and dreamed of, then why does it hurt so much?

“It wasn’t that easy, being us. You were barely home, Harry. You went on tour after she was born. I was on maternity leave but you weren’t even with me for the most of it. I was on my own. You knew I would get paranoid– being on my own.”

He nods. “I know. I’m trying– I will try my best to show you I’ve changed. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with–”

“–Well, I can’t come everywhere all the time, I have a job!”

“Then I’ll stop working!” He raises his arms in the air. “I’ll stop. Just to have you and Thea back in my life, I’ll stop.”

“Harry,” she whispers, taking a step towards him. She places her hand on his cheek, his cold cheek, and watches as he leans into the touch, eyes closing instantly. “I would never ask that of you, and– you don’t mean that,” she says, voice low as her thumb strokes his stubbled cheek.

Harry opens his eyes. “I know you wouldn’t ask that of me.”

“Do you, though?”

“I want you to give us another chance,” he murmurs, placing his hand over hers on his cheek. He strokes her skin. “I want to try. Do you?”

“I… of course, I do. I’m just scared– don’t you get it?” She murmurs, letting go of his cheek. She wraps her arms around her own body. “I’m scared of you leaving again–”

“–You’re scared of me going on tour?”

She nods. “Yeah. And– I know I said I would never ask you to stop doing what you love, but I feel scared. Being on my own.”

He nods, too. He takes another step forward to get closer to her. “Would you come on tour with me? If I were to go on tour next year?”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “I have a job…”

“I know…”

“Maybe,” she looks around. “Maybe I need a roommate or somethin’.”

Harry smiles down at her, hand going to rest on her cheek this time. “A roommate?”

“Yeah. Maybe– maybe my dad or something. And–” She stops.

“And, what, darling?” Harry whispers, eyes full of hope.

“And when you’re on tour, I would stay around at dad’s. Or Robin’s.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. He does, too.

“What does this mean, then?” Harry asks, voice full of nothing but hope and excitement.

She bites her lip. “I don’t know, yet. I’m just thinking out loud, I guess. I know this is your job, and– well, yeah,” she rubs her eyes, not caring about her mascara smudging all over her eyes. “You surprised me,” she says, then chuckles.

“Yeah?” Harry strokes her cheek. “So,” he says. “Do you also want to try, then? To be us, again?”

A beat.

Then another.

It’s silent until she breaks it.

“Slow, though,” she whispers into the night. “Slow.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #ex husband!harry #theadora #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles fluff #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles social media au #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles blurb

[homosociallyyours]

Saw a thing about 'what would you do if you woke up in harry's body' and listen idc hours anyone else answers but here's mine:

1) immediately take a long and luxurious shower, bc I'll bet he's got an AMAZING one, like it's probably the kind with multiple heads that's big enough for a party, and i wouldn't have to sit for it! I could sing while i wash up (note to self, make a voice note of me as harry singing style to send to jen lol)

2) put on the most ridiculous clothes i can find, like full on deck myself OUT

3) send a big chunk of $ to my venmo and paypal (and probably also getting a bunch of cash out as well and sending it to myself in case the e-payments were flagged)

4) go on a gfm funding spree, literally dropping 5k like it's nothing bc IT'S NOTHING

5) buy a bunch of debt and have it all forgiven

6) make a statement in support of Palestine

7) use my able body to literally dance for HOURS!! I wanna be sweating and sore!!

8) if i haven't already, call Harry on my phone and tell him he's getting his body back tomorrow. Offer to get him food bc he's probably like 'wtf is wrong with this body why does it feel like this???'

9) go for a drive!

10) hand out $$ to unhoused people, $100 minimum each

11) oh somewhere in there I'm doing some wild makeup on myself and taking a bunch of selfies

Idk what else but if it happens to me the way you'll know is an Instagram post of one of the makeup selfies that gets posted to stories and deleted 1 minute later

#the video i saw was someone saying he'd get 1d back together which is so valid #and a bunch of 'first thing I'd do? LOUIS' jokes #which ! ALSO VALID #but i really had a lot of thought in my answer! and no joke.

[devsgames]

how hard was it to set up stuff regarding economical/legal side of things for gamedev? (regirestering a company, register trademark, recieve income from steam, pay taxes, etc) i know that its country specific but i would want to hear your side of things

You're right in that it's incredibly specific to your location! I'll go over what I've had to do thus far for specifically living in Ontario, Canada; A lot of how I've gained the following insight has been from thorough Googling, looking on government resources and asking people.

Setting Up A Business

Here in Ontario we have generous small business laws, anyone making money from their own business is by default considered a "Sole Proprietorship". Normally businesses need to charge tax based on every Good or Service sold, however Sole Proprietorships don't need to do this until they reach $30k yearly profits in Ontario.

Currently I'm making maybe 5k a year from my games so I'm safe, and thus technically don't even need to register a business. The tradeoff however is that I'm legally and financially responsible for my own business, so if something happens financially or legally it's my own personal risk and not the business's.

There's a few business types here with different meanings (Partnership, LLC, Co-op, etc). Technically I should register one at some point but since it's just me and I'm broke it won't do much. To register a business in Canada isn't hard (I think it's basically just a 30 minute phone call where they give you a 'business number' for registeration and tax use and say "congrats you're a business now!). You have to come up with a unique business name which I've consistently floundered back and forth on and have never stuck to anything which is why "Dev's Games" is the best "brand" I have at the moment. Good thing I'm not registered yet!

Registering a Trademark

This also depends on your location, and I have never done this. I'm sure in many cases there is reason to if I really cared about exclusively using titles or names of things, but I honestly don't.

I also genuinely don't thinm not having a trademark as a problem! Trademarks strike me as useful for a company trying to build a big business around a name that is aleeady popular and ripe for idea theft (E.g Photoshop, Google, Adobe) and stopping others from using it. Right now, I'm so small that this doesn't matter, and I'd honestly consider someone drawing inspiration from me an honor as opposed to something I'd want to contain. Maybe if one of my titles got like SUPER viral down the road I'd seriously look into it; apparently it's a lot of paperwork and something you'd have to find a lawyer for.

Getting Payments

This is, you guessed it, just paperwork that depends on your operating location!

Established storefronts like Steam have a process for registering your account with them and when I started out this was the part of the process I was the most anxious for, but it's actually super easy (which is why there's so much shovelware on there). Steam as a baseline takes 30% of all your sales on the platform (an absolutely insane amount for what the platform does). You'll fill out some paperwork and based on your operating location to determine how much money Steam automatically sets aside for taxes (VST).

As a Canadian they take 0% because Canada-America has tax exemption treaties which make receiving payments from American companies like this tax-free.

Outside of that there's not much, you give them your bank account number and they send payments one month after month end (e.g. end of December they'll pay you for November's sales). Everything is in USD so be prepared for things to be a bit wonky in that respect, and note it costs $100 USD to add a game to Steam. Setting up store pages for your games is its own kind of busywork I won't get into here, but publishing to Steam on the whole is much more work than something like Itch.io.

All in all I like Steam's process for registering and they make it pretty easy to get onto the platform since it's in their interest to potentially make fat money off of your work for doing very little :)

Managing Income

I struggle with anxiety around finances so this part is long.

I set up my own bank account explicitly for earning/spending on my games - prior to getting laid off I only used it for that, but recently I've been having to pay rent from it now too sometimes.

Get a platform that allows you to track and categorize your expenses and income over time. I've been using Wave to balance my income and expenses, as I find it's pretty simple for my needs and lets me mark what different payments are to avoid losing secret money to things I forget about. It connects directly to your bank account, so it will be the most accurate form of income tracking.

Eventually you will buy things and forget what you bought, or receive money for something you're not sure why, or lose/receive money months after you should have. Steam and Itchio have ways of viewing your payouts and reports, but it's hard jumping through 2-3 websites trying to track down a magic number - viewing this all in one place is invaluable to your sanity and making sure you don't go broke. Having this will be a godsend to you during tax time.

Always have additional "rainy day" money set aside - when I started I put about $100 aside from each paycheque at my full time job into my business. Keep an eye on your income flow and know how much you can anticipate to spend on your work. Know how your business money relates to your personal finances and be ready to take money out of your business for emergencies, and vice versa for business emergencies. Money put aside to pay contractors is money you cannot and should not touch.

Contractors based in the US will often ask you pay them through a certain site, many of which aren't available outside the US. Don't be afraid to ask if they use something like Paypal instead. Keep extra money aside for them so you can tip. Make sure you're aware of how they expect to be paid, at what interval, and how much, and keep that money aside. And expense tracker is also helpful here.

Keep in mind most businesses operate on USD, and be mindful of how your local currency converts over. CDN is usually ~60-70% of USD, so I often have to pay more for things like subscriptions or labour then they're listed. When a contractor tells you their rates always be sure you know what currency they're talking about - sometimes I've expected to pay USD when I've had to pay AUS.

Also do not quit your dayjob. Make money through a stable employment and fund your games as a fun side hobby. Easier said than done, but there is an almost 0% chance you will be able to afford surviving off of making indie games as a full living and be afford to keep a roof over your head. I've shipped 4 games on Steam now and I only make about $100-$300 USD from sales there depending on the month. Minimum wage in Ontario is ~$25k a year, I am currently making like $5k from sales on Steam alone. Working at McDonalds would pay better.

Taxes

Taxes are very regional, so results will vary.

Usually businesses have to set aside sales taxes on goods sold. Since I'm a Sole Proprietorship in Ontario making less than 30k I don't have to. Taxes for me basically consists of saying "I made this much" to the government (good expense tracking REALLY helps here).

One thing to note is that at least here the government has NO IDEA how video games fit into business. Until recently there was no "Game Development" business type, and much of the tax reporting interface is obsessed with physical goods; it'll ask how much your "inventory" is worth, how many "goods" you have sold (games are technically "goods" even though they're not a physical thing). Basically be prepared for your tax system to be used to dealing with physical retailers and farmers, and not with digital-only software developers.

---

I'm sure there's more I can cover but my hands hurt. A lot of this is researching your local laws and/or talking to devs local to your area. It's not hard to do any of this necessarily, it's just a lot of paperwork (which is nevertheless super helpful to put together). Once you learn how it all works everything is way less scary though! :)

#new record for longest post made on my phone #my thumbs hurt #asks #ask #advice #gamedev #game development #indie games #indie game #game dev #indie dev #indiegames #gamedevelopment #game design

[somethingspecial-zennie]

TITLE: THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE: PART 6

PAIRING: JEONG JAEHYUN x Y/n

GENRE: Mafia AU

WARNING:::::: Beep beep reader's disclaimer. The topics written below are really triggering and can make you feel uncomfortable. Please refrain from reading if you are sensitive to some toxic dark side of love.

WORD COUNT: 5K

SUMMARY: You want to leave but he won't let you go even if it costs him everything, even if it costs him you, your love. He is ready to let go of everything just to have you by his side.

NOTE: Uhm hi again. I am back with my inconsistent writing habits (*psst tells a lot about my personality* 🥲). I am back with part 6 it's a little longer than the rest but still I hope it's worth it.💚

*Sorry I was kinda in a hurry so I didn't get to proofread. Hope you don't mind :) *

Taglist:

@ahtisa02 @raven-rin @multistan30@queenrachelpink @aedreamzy@sunshinedhyuck @cottonniebunnie @gor3rxx@lilacboba@zzhiyeee @sweet-honeywood @yesohhsehun@sibehpoor@ghostfacefricker6969

LINK FOR PART 1:

LINK FOR PART 5:

You blanked out. Everything looked dark. Your body felt cold. The warm embrace of the man who held you close was missing. You didn't have the strength to stand up or to even move a single inch. You lay there on the cold ground unsure how much time has passed since you settled in the darkness of this shallow room's shadow.

You felt something warm wrapping around your naked body. You didn't even bother to check who it was. You couldn't care more. Not after what had happened. You felt yourself getting picked up by someone. It wasn't Jaehyun. A part of you felt disappointed. You tried so hard to suppress the little voice screaming at you about the monster he is. But now the voice came banging in your head. Making itself clear. Forcing you to see the ugly truth under the clouded mirage of a gentleman that you thought he was.

The brightness of the world outside the small basement blinded your eyes. You grimaced in pain as the rays of sunlight stung your eyes painfully. It took you more than a moment to settle your eyes before you could see again. The light falling on you felt so warm. So welcoming.

Your eyes fell on the man who was carrying you back to your room. Was it even your room to say? You don't know.

It was Neo. The one who covered you with a blanket and the one carrying you out of the basement. You raised up your hand to touch him. Is it really him? How far can you trust him?

You know right you cannot get mad at me? Only I can help you.

You remember him saying this to you. Is it really true? Why would he help you? There is no reason for him to help you unless..

Unless... You thought.

Your fingers touched his cheek. You softly ran your fingers down his chin. The reddish pink flush in his face was obvious.

His eyes followed your fingers and then turned towards you.

"Rest, Y/n." He said softly, before looking up again.

He put you down on your bed in your so-called room. His eyes tried to avoid your gaze. Was he feeling guilty? Or ashamed? Or does he see you as not worthy enough to meet his eyes?

"Neo." You called his name, as he tucked you in. He never looked up at you, like you never called. He turned his back on you trying to leave.

You grabbed his wrist from behind. You tried to sit up with whatever remaining strength you were left with.

"Do you like me?" You asked him.

"What are you talking about Y/n?" He said, without even looking back at you once.

"Why is your face flushed then? Why cannot you not look at my face?" You asked him again, hoping so badly that you're right, that you're not mistaken. If anyone, he is the one who can actually help you get out of here.

"Help me Neo." You begged, your voice lost. But he didn't even budge nor looked back at you.

"Please." Your voice came out as a gasp.

He glanced at you once for the last time, before he removed your hand from his wrist and walked out of the room closing the door shut behind him.

You felt devastated. Broken. The only hope you had left you alone without a word. All the tears have already dried, until you have no more tears left.

Time passed slowly. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. You stared at the ceiling, your head blank. Everything looked dark to you. Dark and cold. You bought the blanket close to your chest gripping it tightly. You don't have anyone to hold onto. You felt alone. Lonely. The blanket around you could only give some comfort to your physical body. But the pain in your head. How would you console it? You have no one here.

The door creaked open. Your heart missed a beat. You shut your eyes tight hoping it's anyone but Jaehyun. Anyone. But him.

You hear the footsteps approaching. It sounded lighter, not like a man.

You opened your one eye very slightly to peek at who it was. It was Yara. You sighed internally with relief.

"I know you're not sleeping." Yara said, without even looking at you. She had bent down in front of the dresser taking out towels.

You turned your body away facing your back towards her, you don't want to talk.

"I'll clean you up." You heard her saying, her voice sounded like she was right behind you, standing next to the bed.

"I'll do it later."

"You've to clean it out if you don't want to give him what he wants." Her voice sounded more like she was concerned than like she was jealous as you thought before.

You turned to look at her. Why would she care?

"Fine." You said, trying to sit up. Your whole body felt sore and painful. She held you up, giving you support.

You looked in her eyes, there was no malice. Nor any emotions. It just felt like she pitied you.

She held your back up helping you walk towards the bathroom. The strength in your legs were yet to return. You could hardly walk. She almost carried you there. As you passed the mirror you glimpsed your reflection. You looked scared. Terrified.

You had never seen yourself like this. Not even when your parents died. Not even when you were kicked out of your own house by your own uncle.

How did you turn like this? Like a feeble piece made up of clay. You always have been the strong one. Made up of steel.

The hot water of the shower hits your body. Your whole body felt a wave of spark traveling from your toe to head. Yara turned off the shower after you were sufficiently drenched. She turned you facing herself.

"I can do it myself today." You said, stopping her hand as she tried to touch you.

She softly caressed your hair and then looked into your eyes.

"Let me help you." She whispered gently, almost sounding reassuring. But you know now. You cannot trust anyone. No one.

She took the handheld shower head in her hand. She sprayed it on her hand feeling the temperature before using it on you. The warm water made you flinch. But you resisted it. You cannot continue to be weak any more. No more.

She kneeled down in front of you, her fingers touching your thigh, going up slowly. Your legs trembled. You grabbed her shoulder to keep yourself from falling.

Why is your body like this? Why are you so weak like this?

"Breathe Y/n. Breathe deeply." Yara said. She didn't withdraw her hand but she stayed still.

"Please, don't." You begged softly. You couldn't. It felt too painful.

"Close your eyes. Feel my touch Y/n. I am not him. I'm not going to hurt you." After hearing her, you felt a bit reassured. You leaned back on the wall behind you, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. Slowly. Little by little.

She is not him. She is not going to hurt me. You thought. Your heart felt at ease. You felt like some of your strength returned back to you.

"Can I?" She asked, after making sure you were less tense than before.

You nodded your head, unsure if you're really fine with it. You could still feel Jaehyun's cum dripping out of you. Even thinking about it made you feel nauseous.

"You have to stay strong." She said, as she wet the towel.

You looked down at her. What's her motive behind this? But you pushed away the thought. At least she made me feel safe. That's all you wanted. You felt the wet warm towel wiping your inner thighs. You close your eyes, breathing deeply.

It's not him. It's not him. It's Yara. You repeat to yourself. You repeated until you made yourself believe it.

"I have to take it out." She looked up looking at you, waiting for your permission. You opened your eyes and looked down.

You could trust her, you said to yourself.

"Okay." You bit your lips. If it's her, it's going to be okay.

Her fingers delicately pushed the sticky fluid out of you. Her one hand rested on your waist.

It's okay. It's Yara. You repeated.

Very slowly and softly she cleaned you up till you felt there's nothing left of him inside you.

"Make him happy." She said all of a sudden as she stood up.

"What?" You asked, shocked by her sudden statement.

"Please him." She said, running her fingers over your shoulders.

"Make him lose his guard."

You took a deep breath, pushing the few strands of hairs behind your shoulder. You adjusted your dress as you walked forward ready to fight your own battle.

It's going to be alright, you thought.

You entered the main hall. I could see him sitting there, as you were told.

He was working on his laptop on the couch. He looked all serious and immersed just the way you noticed him for the first time.

His black hairs were slicked back exposing his stunning bone structures that glistened by the light illuminated from the light coming out of the laptop screen.

You took your next step very slowly. Your soft feet tiptoed landing very gently on the floor hardly making any noise.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the shadow of a person sitting in front of him. His face faced backwards to you. Unable to recognize his face you let the thought of him go. There weren't supposed to be any variables tonight. But you could never just hope things would go your way. Maybe it's better just to deny his existence tonight because he never mattered since the beginning. Tonight is about Jaehyun and you.

Jaehyun and you, you repeat to yourself.

He noticed you. The corner of his eye saw you walking towards his direction. He turned his head towards your direction looking straight into his eyes. His eyes stopped, like they froze in time. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. Not when you are standing in front of him willingly, looking so gorgeous, so beautiful.

You stood there stopped by his gaze. You were wearing a beautiful long white satin dress that draped around your body enunciating your perfectly sculpted self.

Your heart started beating crazily. His gaze churned your stomach. The way he held your eyes, it made your mind lose control. You clenched the sides of your dress, second guessing everything that you had thought for tonight. A part of you was screaming deeply inside asking you if you could really do it.

The man sitting in front of Jaehyun followed his gaze to see what held him looking so breathless, so vulnerable to show his feelings to an outsider. With just a glance he realised the situation. He smirked as he turned back to Jaehyun.

"Seems like you have company for the night. I should leave now." The man said to Jaehyun. The voice you've heard before. You couldn't figure it out but you were sure it was the voice of someone you knew.

Jaehyun's eyes, still boring on you, failed to acknowledge the man who stood up to leave. The man walked towards you, stopping in front of you. You could hardly see his face in the darkly lit room.

"Till next time Miss." He said, taking your hand. He kissed the back of your hand as his eyes checked you out quickly.

You noticed a scar under his right eye. It looked like a fully bloomed red rose. But you couldn't get a better look at his face.

After he left you looked back at Jaehyun. His eyes looked at you like he was waiting for you to explain the situation.

You took a deep breath and started taking soft steps towards his direction. You stood in front of him looking at him with a soft seducing gaze.

"Y/n..

"Shhh..." Your finger on his lips shushed him before he could ask anything. His eyes looked amused. Happy.

You lifted the slit of your white satin dress, slowly leaning on him. He sat on the couch manspreading widely, looking into your enchanting eyes like he has already been bewitched by you.

"Jae.." You whispered in his ears, straddling him on his lap. You settled both of your hands on his striking cheekbones. Your eyes meeting him.

"Baby." He hummed, his eyes now settling on your lips. You were breathing slowly. Looking at him in his eyes so close to you, you didn't know what to do anymore. You traced his forehead with your fingertip slowly going down feeling the tip of his nose to his lips. He closed his eyes, feeling your warmth on his skin. Looking at him, you really wondered if you really hated doing this?

You kissed him on the crook of his neck. He flinched by your sudden touch in a place where he didn't expect it to be.

"Mhmm doll." He moaned, your soft little touches on his skin irked for more. You left a little trail of wet kisses going down slowly.

You fingers unbuttoned his vest one by one taking your sweet time. Unable to control his urge to stop himself from having you within himself he wrapped his big muscular arm around you possessively pulling your whole body close to him so that he could feel you, could smell you in his arms, so close to him.

You felt something hard as you got rid of his vest. You smiled as you threw it on the ground. His hand went down grabbing your ass, squeezing it as you slowly teased his patience with your baby kitten licks on his neck torturously.

You pulled back from him now unbuttoning his shirt's button. It came out to be a challenge to you, unbuttoning a man's shirt is not one of the things that you're good at.

"Let me help you. " He said as his nose slightly brushed yours. Even the mere physical contact with you makes him go crazy. Crazy with the insatiable urge to have you all by himself. He unbuttoned his cuffs, his eyes still never leaving yours. He pulled out his tucked in shirt letting you finish the job that you started. He looked into your eyes waiting for your next step.

He didn't question you. Or stopped you. It was like a fairytale to him. Having you come to him. To love him. Even if it was a lie, even if it was an illusion he is ready to dive into the quicksand just for a moment of affection from you. He would be ready to relive hundreds of years just spend this time with you again. This is all he wanted, all he craved for, waiting patiently like he had planned before you decided to leave him, to run away from his life. He always wanted you to come to him, to tell him that you wanted him just like he did. But now seeing you wanting him, touching him, how could he deny you? How could he stop you? That can never be an option. Never in his whole life.

He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He didn't push you hard, he just continued sucking your lips very gently, very softly letting you lead the way.

His hand slowly unzipped the back of your dress, letting it drop down your shoulder. You let the straps go down undressing yourself in front of him, on his lap. You opened your eyes, your heart felt like it was beating like crazy.

You looked into his eyes, they were staring at you crazily, madly. It scared you. Like a haunted memory. You pulled back suddenly but regained yourself quickly.

Focus Y/n, you said to yourself.

You let a soft smile come out of your mouth to hide your quivering lips. You bend down on your knees between his legs. You let your hands slowly crawl between his thighs, your fingers touching his hard on.

"It must be hard working all day." You said, your fingers cupping him seductively, rubbing the cloth that was between your fingers and him.

"Doll." He moaned, breathing deeply. His hand grabbed your head from behind, bringing it closer to his hard self.

"I'll help you out." You kissed over his hard dick covered by his suit pants.

"Fuck Y/n. Fuck." He grunted restlessly, banging his tightened fist on the couch. It was obvious his whole body ached for your touch, for your mouth over him.

You unzipped his pants and took out his leaking dick. He was already completely hard. Your hands trembled. The dark room flashed across your eyes. Your hands went cold.

You breathed deeply. You couldn't lose your control now. Not after everything you've done till now.

Your long delicate fingers brushed his leaking tip softly massaging them as you went down. You inhaled deeply, it's not going to be easy. He was way too big to fit inside your mouth. You could barely put half of him before you choke yourself.

Your lips touched his tip. The sticky precum tasted salty. A little sweet.

"Please doll. Don't tease me." You hear him grunt, pushing your head from behind. Your mouth felt warm, wet. It felt good. He had never felt like this before. Your mouth was a blackhole, sucking him in deeper and deeper with each thrust. He closed his eyes, totally immersing in the pleasure that your beautiful little mouth was giving him. Every inch of him in your mouth aroused him like any primal beast in his heat

"Baby. Stop. Mhmm." He moaned, pulling your head back. His whole dick was aching with sensitivity. Even the slightest touch by you could make him cum so bad, so hard.

He pulled you up, his hands around your waist grabbing you passionately. His beautiful face was flushed with the tint of red. You could see how badly he was affected by you. He was breathing deeply. But his eyes were always on you, never once letting go of your gaze. He held your gaze like you would just disappear in thin air if he lost your sight. He settled you on the couch, your knees bending over it so that your body could just perfectly meet his mouth. He kissed your stomach ardently inhaling your scent desperately, his one hand holding you thigh and other your waist to stop you from falling down.

His mouth travelled down, kissing you just above your lacey panty. His wet hot sticky licks made your whole body shiver. It was so different from that time. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the need in his kisses. There was passion, you could feel it, not just some raw lust of an animal lusting for his mate.

The way he touched you, the way he was relishing you, it was different. His hands wrapped around you so sensuously that you had to bite your lips from moaning out loud. The wetness pooling between your legs was getting obvious. You couldn't deny the fact that his touches turned you on this bad. Just like him you also started to crave for his touch.

He pulled the panty down your legs, making his way down leaving a trail of his saliva. His lips finally meet you now throbbing centre. It was like his lips met their elixir. He dugged his mouth deep inside you, lapping every bit of wetness of your body. His soft thick lips licked your pussy, his teeth grazing against your clit as he tried harder to get deeper inside of you.

"Jae." You moaned, grabbing his head. His tongue stimulating your pussy inside out. The lewd sound that his mouth made when he sucked you, aroused you even more making you more wetter than before.

"Aahh mhmm..." You moaned out loud, unable to control yourself. Your body acted on its own. It started grinding on his tongue wanting to cum so badly. Your fingers grabbed his hairs tightly, thrusting your hips on his face frantically to make yourself cum. Your whole body convulsed, trying to run away from such intense stimulation.

"Please please let me go Jae." You begged breathlessly, your hips still grinding on his face.

He looked up at you finally pulling away just moments before you could cum. A vast disappointment spread between your legs as you missed the coming orgasm just by a few seconds.

His face emerged out of you, dripping wet by your juices. He smiled, looking happy for the first time you have ever witnessed.

Why is he smiling like this?

Y/n. Stop losing your focus. You said to yourself.

Your legs shaked as you tried to regain your own balance. His intense eating you out had made your legs go numb.

You pulled away breathing shallowly stumbling on your own to keep yourself from falling down the couch. He held your waist with his one hand. His other hand snaked upwards groping you bare breast.

"Take me to bed." You moaned, holding his shoulder to support yourself.

"I don't think I can control it for that long." He said picking you up so effortlessly.

He threw away his laptop and some papers that he was working on the ground which were previously laying on the table in front of him. He put you down there, his breathing ragged. He put you down there, his breathing ragged. He was breathing heavily as he leaned down on you ready to get inside you. This was all he ever wished for. Just you and him. Together. Embracing each other crazily with your warmth. He inhaled your scent. The soft scent of the lavender body wash could barely mask the scent of you, the scent of you desire.

He held your head turning your face to look at him, into his eyes. They looked deep, starved. He bought you closer, kissing every inch of your face little by little.

His lips crept on yours, slowly pushing all of him in that kiss. Everything he felt, everything he desired. He poured all in. His eyes looking at you he breathed deeply.

"Oh God doll you make me go fucking insane." He growled, his hands going down pulling your waist closer to him.

"Why?" You breathe in his face, smelling the musky cinnamon taste of his breath.

He looked at you, surprised by your question. But he was more than happy to answer you. This was the first time you ever asked him something about him? Something that matters to him.

"You saved me Y/n. You saved my life." He said, his forehead touching yours.

"When did I do that?" You asked him, breaking the contact away from him.

"You don't know you don't have to." He looked up at you. He looked at you like someone took the life support out of him. Like taking away the oxygen from him.

"Tell me." You said softly, wrapping your hand around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours just enough so that you could look into his eyes when he tells the truth to you.

"Your words saved me. The notes that you sent when you worked at the cafeteria down the street from our office." He was still breathing heavily, his words sounded as if saying those words made him go back in time, reliving that dreadful time again. His voice felt painful, hurt. You pulled closer, making him look into your eyes. You wanted to know if it was all a lie or if he was telling the truth.

"What notes?" You pushed him more, this time your eyes meeting each other.

"Yes, the little notes that always said not to find up. Not to lose hope." He smiled when he looked into your eyes. Like he found his peace. Like he overcame the darkness within him. His breathing softened, relieved to have you still by his side.

"I wrote those for everyo..." You remember that time. You don't remember even knowing him back then. You were young back then, full of life, full of positivity that you wanted to share to others.

"Shush. I don't care. All that matters is you." He stopped you before you could complete what he wanted to say. He knew the truth too, he was just too afraid to hear it out from you. He doesn't want to believe in the truth, it doesn't matter as long as you're next to him.

You didn't know what to say to him, you couldn't understand him. Those meaningless scribbles that you wrote long back, how could they save someone? It all felt like a lie. Everything. It couldn't be possible. You haven't even seen him come to the cafe personally, it was always his bodyguards. You couldn't have cared more if you knew it was going to someone else.

"That's why I can't let you go. I'll die if you leave me." He said at last, pulling you back to him, only to him. You belong to him. His lips landed on yours for a moment.

"Let's go to bed." He said, picking you up between his arms.

You were still processing his words. Every single of his words. Why would he say that? That he'll die if you leave him. It can't be true.

You felt yourself landing on the soft mattress of the bed. The train of thought stops abruptly as you meet his gaze. His eyes looked softer, vulnerable. As if his deep secrets are out now, as if he was scared to get abandoned by you.

You didn't know what drove you at that moment but cupped his face with your hands and pulled his face closer to you, kissing him. This was the first time you kissed him tonight, on your own will. You had to do this. To save yourself. To save yourself from him.

You crawled on top of you kissing you deeply, madly, passionately. Hungry for each breath you take, each second that you spend close with him.

His hips started slowly rocking on yours. You wrapped your legs around his hips pressing his hard dick closer to you throbbing wet pussy.

His lips strayed kissing you messily in your neck, not thinking straight, not able to see anymore. All he wanted was your love, your touch, you.

He slowly pushed himself in, getting inside of you slowly. His free hand groped your breast, moulding them to stop himself from going too crazy on you. His fingers played with your hard erect nipples, stimulating them to sensitivity as he pounded you inside.

You moaned softly, your back arching as he explored the deeper places inside of you.

"I love you Y/n." He moaned. His thrust was soft and slow. He was relishing the moment, living the time slowly so that it would never end. Your fingers wrapped around his neck, your nails digging into his skin marking them red with his own blood.

"I love you so bad doll." He continued. His lips went back to yours. Both of you were breathing deeply, looking into each other's eyes searching for entirely different things.

It was already midnight when you guys were finished. Your whole body ached. You could feel him all over you. His scent. His essence. He was everywhere. You pressed your fingers more deeper as he thrusted harder. Blood sipped out of his neck but it didn't matter. Each scar you give to him, is like a trophy for him to keep.

He was sleeping next to you. His arms wrapped around you as he slept carefreely knowing that you are with him, secure in his arms.

"Jae." You called him.

There was no response.

Jaehyun." You called again, just to make sure. You could feel his peaceful breathing, his gentle heart beat that was beating crazily this whole evening.

He is asleep. Now is the time, you thought.

You pulled yourself out from his warm embrace, tip toeing softly as you walked out of the room. You looked back glancing at his sleeping face before you closed the door behind you, making sure you locked it before you turned back to the room where it all began.

You saw the dress you wore laying on the ground along with his clothes shattered around.

You walked quickly picking up his vest.

It must be here. You felt it when you were undressing him earlier this evening. It has to be here.

You searched the inside pocket as you felt something hard. It was a card. A key to be more specific, as you were told by Yara.

It was the key to all of the doors in this whole villa. There's only three keys and one of them was with Jaehyun. But not anymore. It's yours now.

You put on the dress quickly ready to leave. You walked towards the room hurriedly, towards your freedom finally.

You pressed the key on the pad. You heard the door beeping as it opened.

Bang.

A loud deafening voice made your head go numb. You turned back only to meet the eyes of Jaehyun. Your eyes fell on his eyes.

Fear crept in your heart. You head banging crazily. You were scared.

Your eyes looked down, you could see a pool of blood gathering slowly where you were standing. Your head felt light.

The sharp excruciating pain hit your leg so hard, making you realise the truth.

You looked back at him, still not believing he could do this to you.

His eyes looked back at you. They looked scared but not regretful. He didn't regret what he just did.

You felt nauseous, your head blanked out. It was all dark.

P.S. - Soooooo this is not the end. I'll return soon

Adios till then. Thank you for patience and time everyone. 💚

And take care.

😊

#nct u #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 angst #nct 127 au #nct 127 ff #nct 127 smut #nct angst #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #nct 127 jaehyun #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x y/n #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 2022 #nct ff #nct fanfic #nct imagines

[calwrites]

The Way I Loved You

Sequel to Don’t You

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Word count: 5k

————————

“Yeah, I mean Jess is pretty-”

“Sensible.”

“-incredible,” Sebastian finished, barely throwing Mackie a glare at his interruption.

Chris nodded slightly. “I gotta say, I’m pretty jealous. She seems like a great person. I’d love to date someone like her. What’s she up to tonight?”

“Look out, Sebastian. Evans is going to steal your girl.” Sebastian shook his head fondly as Chris and Anthony bickered gently.

“I just thought that Wednesday was date night. That’s all.” Chris raised his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be, but I told her it was your last night in LA and we wanted to have dinner.”

“And she was fine with it?”

“Yeah, she was cool with it.” Surprisingly cool, actually. Wednesday date night had been Jess’s idea at the start of their relationship. She claimed it would be a good way to make sure they were staying connected, even when work got crazy. Sometimes Wednesday night had to become Tuesday or Thursday if Sebastian had to shoot at night, but Jess always said it was fine. Really, Sebastian couldn’t ask for a better, more understanding girlfriend.

“So what exactly do you do on date night?” Sebastian had barely rolled his eyes before Anthony was throwing a napkin at him. “I didn’t mean like that. Like, do you just eat dinner together? Don’t you do that anyway when you’re visiting her?”

“Yeah, but it’s like special, I guess.” Sebastian shrugged slightly. “She normally makes a reservation at a nice restaurant and we get dressed up. I open all the doors for her. I tell her she looks beautiful.”

“And you like doing that every week?” Mackie pressed.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“You taking notes, Anthony?” Chris laughed.

“No, I just think it’s a little boring compared to his dates with Y/N. I feel like she was always coming up with the most random date ideas.”

“To make up for the fact that we could go months without a real date. Most of our Wednesday nights together were dinner at the apartment and then sitting on the couch together while she did work.”

“And you read scripts,” Anthony pointed out. “Besides, don’t act like some of those date droughts weren’t because you were away filming and always forgot when you were supposed to call her.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m bad at long distance. Why do you think I visit Jess so much?”

“New York to LA isn’t that different from LA to San Francisco,” Anthony muttered, causing Chris to kick him under the table.

“I told you, we just couldn’t give each other enough attention. Y/N was busy. She’s not as willing to be as flexible as Jess.”

“More like she doesn’t let you get away with as much crap as Jess does.”

“Mackie, come on. It’s my last night in LA. Let’s not spend all night discussing Sebastian’s love life.” Anthony nodded at Chris’s request, but Sebastian could tell that he still had opinions to share. What did Anthony know, though? Sebastian’s relationship was fine. He felt perfectly fine.

————————

“Where the hell have you been, Y/N?”

She jumped slightly, almost falling out of her heels. And since when did she wear heels that high? Sebastian was sure he hadn’t seen those shoes in their closet.

“Sebastian?” She squinted. The low light in the apartment made it hard to see him clearly, though Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not she could even see straight at that moment. “What are you doing here? You still have two weeks of shooting.”

He scoffed. “And I thought you were having a chill night in. What happened to takeout and a romcom?”

Y/N’s nostrils flared. They always did that when she was trying not to lash out at someone. The first time Sebastian had noticed that was sophomore year of high school, when she was trying to stop herself from going off on someone who had made an incredibly wrong point about a book they were discussing in class.

“Some people from work were going out to celebrate. It’s been a long week and we finally landed that big deal I was telling you about.”

It would be easier to let it go and just be excited about the deal. Y/N had been stressing about it all week, and even though Sebastian didn’t really understand it, he knew that it was important for Y/N. But he didn’t let it go.

“It’s 2 AM!”

“Ok? I’m an adult. If I want to stay out until 2, I can.”

“You shouldn’t go out without letting someone know. It could be dangerous. You don’t know who else is out there.”

“I was with people I’ve worked with for a year, and I did tell people I was going out. Now stop acting like my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Because you’re supposed to be in Atlanta! Last I heard, you had to film tonight.” Y/N pressed a hand against her eyes for a moment before glaring at Sebastian again. “And besides, I would have told you if you had answered my call this afternoon. The call that we planned because you’ve been too busy to call all week.”

“I told you that I was coming to visit this weekend!”

She looked at Sebastian like he had just grown another head or started speaking Latin. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you that I was coming to visit this weekend,” Sebastian repeated, a bit quieter this time.

“Are you talking about last month when you said that they might change the schedule so you might be able to come back for a day or two?”

“Yes!”

“You never mentioned that again! You never gave me any dates! I just assumed that they didn’t change the schedule. How was I supposed to know you were coming tonight?”

“I wanted to surprise you! You said you would be here tonight .”

“If you had answered-“

“If I had answered the damn call! I know I know! Damnit, Y/N, you should have been here!”

They were both breathing heavily at this point. Y/N shook her head slightly as her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m not just going to wait around for you, Sebastian.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, but firm. “I’m not going to sit in the apartment by myself every night because you said that you might be able to come home on some unspecified day. I have a career and friends and a life that’s separate from you. I’m not just Sebastian Stan’s girlfriend.”

“I know!” Sebastian sat heavily on the couch. He ran a hand over his face. It came back wet. Slowly, his shoulders started to shake before a sob finally escaped. “I know,” he repeated hoarsely.

There was a dip next to him, and then Y/N’s head was resting on his arm. “Ok, so what’s really wrong?”

He sighed. How had this night gone so wrong? “It was just a really bad week at work. I just heard back from a part that I really wanted. I didn’t get it. I just really wanted to see you, and when you weren’t here, I started panicking. And then you showed up and you had been having fun and your work is going well and it was just…I don’t know.”

“You needed to blow off some steam.” Sebastian nodded. “I'm sorry that you’ve been having a tough time, but next time I’d appreciate if you didn’t take it out on me.”

“I won’t.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Y/N spoke. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“I think that tomorrow we need to discuss our communication problems.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“I do, Sebastian. Right now, the only reason we ever talk is because I bend over backwards to fit your schedule. I know that you’re busy, but so am I. I want our relationship to work. Like really work long term. But I can’t just not live my life because I’m waiting around for you to call.  It’s not fair if you constantly reschedule last minute after I’ve gone to all this trouble to make time.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am.” Finally, Sebastian cracked a smile. The sound of Y/N’s laughter from beside him made his heart swell up with joy. “You know, I think that was our first big fight as a couple.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t either. From now on, no more bottling up our feelings until we explode. Deal?” Sebastian nodded. “Good. Can we go to bed now, Seb?” Sebastian didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply picked Y/N up bridal style and carried her into the bedroom while she shrieked with laughter.

————————

His relationship with Jess was never as explosive as his relationship with Y/N had been. Surely that was a good thing. There were no 2 AM fights. If Sebastian showed up at her house to surprise her, she would cancel any plans she had to spend time with him. It didn’t matter if he was late picking her up for a date night, she was out at his car in no time. She hadn’t even kept him waiting the one time he had gotten the times mixed up and had gone to pick her up an hour early.

If he said he didn’t want to talk about something, she dropped it. If he said he wanted some space, she gave him space. If he said he was going to call and then ended up having to hang up after a few minutes, she didn’t get mad. She was incredibly understanding about everything. He couldn’t remember the last time they had fought.

In fact, had they ever fought. Maybe? She told him she didn’t like his cologne and had been a little annoyed that he had kept wearing it anyway, but she never pushed the matter with him. Any time she seemed annoyed, she just smiled and told him to forget about it. So much easier than a 2 AM fight.

And yet, Sebastian couldn’t help but remember the 2 AM dance parties in the kitchen because he was jet lagged and Y/N decided that the best use of jet lag was making cupcakes and listening to big band music. And the times that Y/N, who somehow always knew when something was bothering him, wouldn’t let him rest until he told her. He always felt better after he did, even if she had no advice. Even if her advice was to get his head out of his ass because he was the one in the wrong.

Jess only told him to take a sleeping pill and go to bed when he was jet lagged. She wouldn’t dance with him in the kitchen late at night. And she certainly wouldn’t dance with him in the rain.

“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian was pulled from his thoughts by Jess’s voice. His girlfriend settled into the couch next to him. His girlfriend. She was his girlfriend.

“Nothing much.”

“You sure? You looked pretty intense.”

“I’m sure.” Jess returned Sebastian’s grin, but he wasn’t sure if she actually believed him. Either way, she didn’t press.

“I talked to your mom earlier.”

That seemed to come out of nowhere. “My mom? Why?” It couldn’t be anything too important or she would have called him first.

Jess shrugged. “Just to chat. She had some questions about New York Fashion Week. I think she might be hoping I can get her into shows or something.”

“I didn’t know you were going to walk in Fashion Week.” 

“I’m not yet, but there might still be time. Imagine how good we’d look together there. There would be so many pictures of us together.” Sebastian didn’t say anything, so she continued. “I also talked to your stepdad a bit. I asked him if he had any funny stories about you from school.”

Why was she talking to his parents? That seemed a little strange to Sebastian. They had only been dating for a couple months, and she had only met his parents once and that was partly by accident. Of course, Sebastian wasn’t really sure when it was normal for his girlfriend to meet his parents. Y/N had already known them. She probably knew even more embarrassing stories than his stepdad did.

“You ready to watch the movie?” Sebastian asked so he didn’t have to hear her talk about his parents more. 

She snuggled closer to him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’m comfortable.” And he was. That was the perfect word for his relationship with Jess. She didn’t push him the same way that Y/N had. They didn’t hit the same lows, but they also didn’t hit the same highs. It was comfortable.

————————

The air smelled like rain. The weather app had said there wasn’t a chance that night, but it seemed like it would be wrong. Y/N’s heels clicked on the sidewalk with each step, but the noise of the city drowned them out. They didn’t drown out the pleas from her boyfriend.

“Y/N, come on. You’re being ridiculous.” Sebastian jogged after Y/N, who could walk surprisingly fast in heels when she wanted to.

“I’m being ridiculous? I spent the weeks planning everything for your perfect birthday evening and we didn’t do any of it.”

“We got drinks like you planned.”

“Yes, but we were supposed to get drinks, then go to a different restaurant, where I made a reservation two months ago. We were not supposed to stay there to eat, then go out drinking with some random people.”

“They’re not random people. I’ve worked with them before. I haven’t seen them in forever.” They had been about to pay for drinks and leave when Sebastian had caught sight of some actors he had worked with a couple years before. Y/N had hoped that the reunions would end after some pleasantries, but that hadn’t been the case. “And they paid for everything! You should be thanking them.”

“Okay, I know that what they did was nice, and if it had been any other night I would have loved it. But it’s your birthday and you’re only home for a couple days before you have to go back.”

“I know it sucks-”

Y/N stopped so suddenly that Sebastian almost ran into her. She wheeled around and jabbed a finger at his chest. “No, what sucks is spending any free time you have researching restaurants and bars so that you can plan the perfect drinks, then dinner, then a nice walk, then desserts before heading home to watch a movie. Last year, you said that would be your perfect birthday, so that’s what I did. And now it doesn’t even matter.”

“I didn’t ask you to do all that. I would have been fine with dinner at home.”

“I haven’t seen you in person in three months. When you said that I could plan whatever I wanted for your birthday, I wanted to make it special.” “There’s still time to make it special.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows suggestively. When he tried to grab Y/N’s hand, she yanked it back before turning and continuing down the street.

“We wasted all our time clubbing. God, we’re too old to spend a birthday clubbing. It’s almost 2 in the morning, and your flight leaves at 10.”

“So we can really go crazy and pull an all-nighter. I’m sure there are still some fun activities you had planned that we can do at home.”

“I have a meeting at 11. I’ll barely have enough time to prep after dropping you off at the airport.”

“Then don’t bother dropping me off. I can call a car.”

“Sebastian.” Y/N always took him to the airport when he had to leave. It was their little way of squeezing out every second they had together.

“Well if it’s going to be such an inconvenience, don’t worry about it.” This time it was Sebastian who continued to walk when Y/N stopped to look at him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be an inconvenience. I was supposed to have time to wake up early to go over everything before taking you to the airport. If we had stuck to the plan-”

A raindrop landed on Y/N’s nose. Of course, neither of them had brought an umbrella or a raincoat. They were supposed to have been home hours before the rain started.

“Oh my god. The plan this! The plan that! It’s always about your plans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s like you’re incapable of not having a plan. Everything has to be scheduled. Everything has to have a defined next step. If anyone strays from the plan, all you can do is complain.” Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face as the rain started to really come down.

“I’m sorry that I care! I’m sorry that I just wanted you to have a good birthday.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! Sometimes I just want to go with the flow. Like going out with some friends I hadn’t seen in forever. Or going to the first gelato place I see.”

“Oh my god, are you still upset about the gelato?” They had gone to Italy for a couple weeks that summer. There had been a small tiff about which gelato place they should go to one afternoon. “The other place had way better reviews, and it was only around the corner. You still got gelato!”

“Yeah but by then I was so annoyed that I couldn’t enjoy it.”

“Fine! Next time you can get some subpar gelato, while I go get better gelato. In fact, you can eat wherever you want the next time you go on vacation. You want seafood that’ll almost certainly give you food poisoning? Go for it. You want an overpriced salad that’s almost exactly the same as a cheaper one you could get two streets over. Waste your money. I don’t care anymore.”

“I never asked you to do any of that though!”

“Fuck you, Sebastian! I’m sorry that I care!” At this point, the rain was coming down hard enough that it was impossible for Sebastian to see the tears rolling down Y/N’s cheeks. But he could still hear them in her voice. “It’s just that I care about you so much that sometimes it feels like I’m going to explode. And I don’t get to be around you all the time, so I have to put all that energy into so much less than I want to. I know that I can go a bit far with plans, but sometimes I like having a plan.”

“It’s okay.” Gently, Sebastian grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. She seemed to collapse into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay.  I like how on top of everything you are most of the time, but sometimes it can be fun to just see what happens. I don’t mean to upset you when I do that.”

“I know, but it feels like you don’t care about all the work that I did.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe this is something we can work on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, remember when I was so bad at communication?” Y/N smiled slightly and nodded. “Maybe you can work on going with the flow a bit more. Do something spontaneous. Go for a walk and see where you end up, like you used to when we first moved in together. Take a vacation and don’t make any plans. I know that you like living in the moment.”

“Work is way too busy right now to start being spontaneous. I’ll basically be living at the office for the next couple months.” That was the problem with Y/N’s job. Even though she enjoyed the work and was good at it, there was always so much going on that it made it almost impossible for Y/N to have time to do anything else. “Stop making that face, Seb. I know you don’t like my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t like your job. I just don’t like how stressed it makes you. Maybe you should take the job at that startup. The one with the guy you went to school with.”

“I’m not sure a startup is the best way to be less stressed. Plus, it’s in San Francisco.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be really busy next year, so we’d probably be apart anyway. At least think about it. That’ll be spontaneous enough.”

“Whatever you say, Seb.”

————————

The smile on Sebastian’s face felt fake. Everything about his relationship felt fake nowadays. And Jess had no idea. She couldn’t see it.

His girlfriend sat across from him, his beautiful, kind girlfriend, and he felt nothing. There was no rush of happiness when he saw her. There was no ache in his chest when he was away from her. And worst all, he couldn’t be sure there had ever been.

Had he felt anything for Jess besides physical attraction? Deep down, he didn’t think so. She had just been a way to get over Y/N. It had worked for a while. He had convinced himself that he was happy with her. But then he had seen Y/N. 

He wasn’t supposed to go to the wedding, and maybe he shouldn’t have. Y/N would have had a lot more fun if he hadn’t been there. Maybe it had been a bit selfish, but he had to see her. He missed her. He wanted her back in his life. Even though he tried to pretend it wasn’t true, he wanted her back. He still loved her.

And she still loved him. She probably also hated him, at least a little bit, despite what she said. But she still loved him. Ever since he had heard those words, his world had started to dim.

He hadn’t noticed it at first. Maybe he was slower to laugh at jokes. Maybe he started finding date night tedious, rather than sweet. And maybe he started thinking about what Y/N was doing whenever possible.

You couldn’t blame him, really. Jess was an open book. She was nice. She was, at least partly, using him for publicity. She was pretty. He could guess what she would say at any moment. As great as she was, she wasn’t very deep.

Y/N, on the other hand, was a wild card. Yes, she could be a little plan heavy, but she really shone when she let herself cut loose. When she booked flights to Italy on a whim or decided they should go skydiving during the weekend. Or even when she accidentally found their new favorite Indian restaurant because she wasn’t paying attention when walking home and ended up on the wrong street.

Did she sometimes want to make him bang his head against a wall? Yes. But she also made him a better person. She didn’t let him get away with any crap. And she was the only thing he ever wanted to think about.

“Jess,” Sebastian said, interrupting whatever story she had been telling. “We need to talk.”

————————

It was raining so hard that Sebastian almost walked right past the building. Of course, Sebastian didn’t have an umbrella. Wasn’t it supposed to not rain in California? Or maybe LA rules didn’t apply to San Francisco. Either way, Sebastian was drenched by the time that he stood outside of the apartment building.

The doorman raised an eyebrow as Sebastian dripped on his floor. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Y/N.” Did she even still live in this apartment? He wasn’t sure. She had only signed the lease for a year, so maybe she had moved. Sebastian tried to keep walking towards the elevator, but the doorman was quick to stop him.

“She’s not available right now, but I’ll let her know you stopped by. Goodnight.” Arguing seemed pointless. It was getting late, and he was a strange man as far as the doorman was concerned. But what did not available mean? Was she out? Or did she have someone up in her apartment? If only he had been able to go up. It was his own fault for insisting she get an apartment with a doorman.

Back outside in the rain, he looked up at the window that he knew was hers. Or at least had been the last time he had visited. He had looked up at the window and watched her wave as he drove away. Every time it got harder to leave. Harder to be sure that she would still want him when he came back.

Without any other good plan, Sebastian did the first thing he could think of. “Y/N!” he yelled. Would the other people in the apartment building think he was crazy? Maybe. Did he care? No. Maybe if he yelled enough, she would come down. Would it come off as romcom-esque or just creepy? Maybe he should have brought a boom box or something.

“Sebastian?”

He spun around so quickly that he almost slipped on the wet sidewalk. There she was. She was wearing a raincoat that seemed to almost swallow her, and the hood hid her face. Some part of Sebastian’s mind pointed out that it was his raincoat. He must have forgotten it at her apartment once. She had a backpack on and takeout in one hand, which Sebastian knew meant she was just getting back from work.

“Sebastian, what are you doing here?” She didn’t sound mad, just confused. That was fair, really. After their run in at the wedding reception, she probably hadn’t expected to see him, at least for a long time.

“I miss you.” That was all Sebastian was able to choke out at first.

Y/N started shaking her head and brought a hand up to her eyes, knocking the hood of the raincoat down. She didn’t seem to notice. “No, Sebastian. I told you-“

“I know. I know what you told me.” Y/N’s eyes tentatively met his. “But I do miss you. And I do want you back. Not just as a friend. Breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then why did you do it?” Sebastian hated how small she sounded. He hated that he was the reason for it.

“I was scared.” 

“You were scared? I was the one with a new job in a new city.”

“I knew that you would take it all by storm though. You always do. And it just felt like the more you settled in here, the less you needed me. I knew that one day you would realize that you had outgrown me. I guess I was trying to save myself from that pain, so I ended things first.”

“Outgrow you? Sebastian, I love you. I could never outgrow that.”

“You’re way too good for me. And you're constantly surrounded by people who are smarter than me. People you can have real conversations about your work with. You don’t have to dumb stuff down for them.”

“If I want to talk to them about work, then I’ll do it at work. They don’t make me smile like you do though. I don’t enjoy being around them as much as I enjoy being around you. Who cares if you don’t understand all of that boring business stuff? You’re still smart. And kind. And you’re the one I always wanted to come home to at the end of the day.”

She was close enough to touch now. Sebastian wasn’t sure if he had been walking towards her or if she had been walking towards him. Maybe it was both.

“What about Jess?”

“We broke up.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well it only happened a couple hours ago.”

“Sebastian!” Y/N swatted him on the arm, but she was laughing. “Did you break up with her and then come here?”

“I figured you probably wouldn’t take me back if I was still dating someone else.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Y/N smiled up at him. Gently, he placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her. The feeling was just as exciting as the first time they had kissed. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. When they pulled away, Y/N was smiling too.

“We’re going to make this work,” Sebastian said. “I don’t care if I have to fly here every day to see you. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Actually, I have a solution that might be a bit easier.” The sly smile on Y/N’s face made Sebastian smile too. “The startup was just acquired by a bigger company-”

“Is that good?”

“For the most part. It’s good for me because I’ll be in charge of expanding our little startup. That means,” she continued, seeing the look of confusion on Sebastian’s face, “that I’ll be doing a lot of traveling around to new offices. Whenever I’m not needed at a specific office, I can work anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” Sebastian was starting to see where she was going with this, but he tried to keep himself from getting his hopes up.

“I was planning on staying here for a couple more months before moving back to New York, but I can work from anywhere as long as I have a computer and wifi. I’m pretty sure they have both of those in places like LA or Atlanta or wherever you’re filming. I’ll still be busy, but we’ll be together.”

Whatever else Y/N was going to say was forgotten when Sebastian picked her up and spun her around. “I’ve missed you,” Sebastian whispered as he put her back down.

“So I’ve heard.” Sebastian laughed and pressed a kiss on Y/N’s wet hair. “I’ve missed you too, Seb. I have one more question though.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Do you think this food is too waterlogged to eat?” She lifted the takeout bag slightly.

“I guess we have to hope the plastic bag did its job.” Sebastian took the bag out of her hand and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “I hope you ordered enough for me.”

“I hope so too. I wasn’t exactly expecting you though.”

“I hope it was a good surprise though.”

Y/N squeezed Sebastian’s waist. “The best. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x yn #calwrites

[cypanache]

"Unintended" aka the Obidala Bridgerton AU pt 4

(We have a title! Yay!)

Note: Whelp this keeps happening. This is a late birthday gift for the lovely @nicolos who requested Obi-Wan's moment of realizing Padme was more than he expected. It got wildly out of control. So here have almost 5k of 'softening.' I will now be returning to Trap and your regularly scheduled angst.

previous parts: part i | part ii | part iii

part iv - picks up shortly after part iii

iv

It changes things between them.  Padme’s not precisely sure why.  But it does.  

Her circumstances remain unaltered.  Lord Kenobi treats her no differently than before.  But it eases something inside her.  Loosens her grip on the hurt she’s been holding so close.  

She has spent these first months at Stewjon petulant and put upon, keeping her resentments close at hand, determined to wear the injustice of it all like widows weeds.  Has viewed this place, in all its elegance and comfort, as a prison, and her husband as warden. Admittedly a benign one, but a jailer all the same.  

The evening at the Organa’s changes that.

Knowing what she knows of his own history, with the word astonishing still ringing in her ears, she has come to see Lord Kenobi’s offer of marriage as more than simply a calculated attempt to keep his cousin at arms length from Padme and the subsequent ruination of all his prospects.

It is a kindness, a gift.  One, she now thinks that he offered not solely for Anakin’s sake, but perhaps her own as well.  Because it turns out that in this one aspect, this specific injury, they are far more alike than she could have ever imagined.  

There is a particular pain to being the one left behind, from watching your love disappear over the horizon while you remain unmoving.  A dull, ever present ache which weighs you down, leaves you inert and numb.

She has wallowed in that feeling for these past few months, and Lord Kenobi has let her.  Has never expected her to smile when she would prefer to frown.  Never pressed for pleasantries when she has none to give.  He has let her go days without seeing him and entire meals pass without so much as a ‘How was your day?’  Padme had despised him for it.  Interpreted his distance as disinterest.  His impassivity as indifference. 

Now suddenly it is as if someone has finally turned on the lights, only for her to look around and discover that what she had believed all this time to be a prison, is no prison at all but a refuge.

Here she has never had to feel any way other than how she does.  Never had to hear the whispers and the gossip, never had to endure her family’s silent disappointment or worry about how she might fend off any remaining suitors.

In marrying her, Lord Kenobi had given her freedom, and she repaid the gesture by shackling them both in the most acute kind of loneliness.

But she is also, it turns out, the one holding the keys.

It’s little things at first.  Barely noticeable alterations in their routine.  She no longer hesitates to retrieve a book just because he’s in the library; he sometimes pauses in the hall to listen if she happens to be practicing the pianoforte when he’s passing by.  She occasionally joins him for breakfast; he stops retiring to his study immediately after dinner.  Just a subtle blurring of their previously established boundaries.

But it's enough.  Enough that, when Anakin’s next set of letters arrive in the morning post, Padme does not feel like she’s clutching her only source of solace.  Does not find herself so starved for connection that she must immediately retreat to her rooms and greedily gulp down every word.  Instead she places it to the side for later, enjoying the new and delicious thrill of anticipation that runs through her at the prospect of having such a treat to look forward to, of taking her time, lingering over every line, savoring every scratch and scrawl. 

Across the table, Lord Kenobi, well acquainted with her usual routine, pauses the letter opener mid-stroke and looks at her in askance.  Padme just smiles and pours more tea.

“I’m not quite done with breakfast.”

“Ah.”  Then, “Would you prefer if I go?”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not done with breakfast.”  Taking pity on his obvious consternation, she adds gently, “It’s okay, really, I want to wait.”

As it turns out, Padme’s new found enjoyment of anticipation is not shared.  Oh, her husband does his best, setting his own letter to the side, making a valiant effort at returning to the relative ease of their earlier conversation.  But she can tell from the way his eyes keep catching on the corner, fingers keep finding the edge of Anakin’s letter that she has disrupted more than her own routine.

It suddenly occurs to her that the man across from her is the closest thing her love has to family. Anakin had certainly talked about him often enough in the early, heady whirlwind of their romance, when they’d poured out their most intimate secrets into the other's outstretched hands.  This cousin who was closer than a brother, who had retired his own commission at twenty-five to return to Stewjon upon Lord Jinn’s death and raise him like a son, who had seen to every aspect of his education and entry into society with all the focused attention of the most relentless tutor.  Spoke of him with a complicated mixture of idolization and envy and affection that seemed far too great for any one man.

If Lord Kenobi regards Anakin with even a fraction of that same feeling, and the fact she is sitting here says ‘yes, the sentiment is absolutely returned,’ well she must be torturing him right now.

“What does he say?”

“Hmm?”

“In your letter-  What does he write to you about?  If that’s not-”

“Oh, um- Much the same, I imagine.  Obviously, less-” Still he unfolds the missive even as he makes the protest, taking advantage of the excuse just as she intended, “Let’s see-” he scans it, “Ah, here’s something-  I have been tinkering with a new navigation technique for the fleet.  The problem, as you know, is every navigator has their own way of doing things . . . ”  He looks up to check her continued interest, and Padme motions for him to go on, immediately fascinated by these new facets of her love.  

Because Lord Kenobi is wrong, of course, their letters are nothing alike.  When Anakin writes to her it is of his love, his longing, not his life.  He writes of how he aches for the past they had and longs for the future they will one day share, but spends no time in the present.  As if he has tucked her away in some secret pocket of his heart, too special and treasured for everyday use.

But she wants to occupy his everyday.  Inhabit his ordinary.  She wants to collect the scratches and scrapes of a shared life, to be creased and crumpled and worn threadbare with use.  She wants to know him and be known in return.

So the next time Anakin’s letters come she does not even bother to be coy.  

“Read it to me, please.”

The time after that Lord Kenobi does not even make her ask.

It becomes a habit between them, sharing Anakin across the breakfast table.  He never asks to hear her letters and in truth there is little there to occupy his attention.  But occasionally, something he reads will trigger a memory, little things like the way Anakin preferred a reel to a waltz, or how he once took her out to the balcony and named all the constellations.  Or the time he loaded up his pockets from the punch table in hopes of stealing her away for a moonlight picnic in the gardens only to be stymied by her chaperone for so long that everything was reduced to crumbs by the time he succeeded.

Her husband laughs at that, wry and rueful and wildly affectionate.  It transforms his entire face, that laugh, turns him younger, more approachable.  No longer Lord Kenobi, but Obi-Wan as Anakin must have known him.  There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that tells her he despairs not at the intent but the execution, and the hint of a challenge in the corners of his smile, as if he believes he could have done it better. 

Oh, so that’s where Anakin gets it.

Sometimes, and these are her favorite, Obi-Wan will offer a story of his own in return.  Anakin’s penchant for tinkering, and the time at thirteen he took apart the grandfather clock right on the hall rug (“I thought Mrs. Nu was going to quit on the spot.  You can still find a few of the grease stains if you look hard enough.”)  Or how he acquired Artoo at sixteen by sneaking out of the house and taking his cousin’s newly purchased high-spirited stallion hedge jumping at midnight.

“What did you do?”

“Gave all the stablehands a week’s holiday, woke him at five that morning and informed him that as he had such an interest in horses I had arranged the opportunity for me to teach him first hand.”

“And then gave him Artoo.”  

She has ridden Artoo.  He is magnificent and mercurial and by far the finest horse in the stable. Which hadn’t occurred to her as odd until this moment.

Obi-Wan sighs, “Yes well, there was nothing for it.  They were quite inseparable after that.  Damn horse tried to bite me if I even got close.”

This is how most of the stories go.  Or at least the ones he selects to tell her.  Oh, he couches them all as tales of mischief and misbehavior, assumes the role of long-suffering guardian with great relish, but she does not miss the pride in his voice as he recounts some extraordinary skill Anakin demonstrated or an impossible feat he accomplished.  Does not overlook the fact that every act of discipline was designed to teach, every hardship tempered with more than a drop of indulgence.

She wonders if he realizes how much of himself he reveals in these moments.

Still even as she finds it increasingly easy to accept her situation if not embrace it, she can feel a new cloud of discontent creeping over her.  In letting go of her anger, allowing her hurt to slip through her fingers, she finds herself utterly unmoored.  She has spent so many hours cultivating her ill-temper, perfecting her pique, that she now feels idle and indolent without the activity to occupy her. 

There is simply nothing at Stewjon for her to do.  No detail of the day which has not already been seen to, no aspect unaccounted for.  The staff are all long standing, loyal and utterly capable, her husband’s preferences simple and straightforward.  Everything runs like clockwork.

She has trained all her life to do exactly two things:  raise children and run a household.  Yet here she is attached to a man with whom she has no intention of doing the former and who apparently has no need of her for the latter.  

And she is bored.

*

“Would you teach me to fence?” she asks on impulse one afternoon when she’s wandered into her husband's study for no other reason than it is simply the only room in the house she has not seen today.

Obi-Wan looks up from the ledger he’s been reviewing in obvious astonishment. “Pardon?”

He heard her request.  He just doesn’t believe it. Padme’s not quite sure she believes it of herself.  It’s so wildly improper as to be presumptuous, and regardless of the utter irregularity of their relationship, they have, in every interaction since, always remained quite conventional.

Though the more she learns of him the less she believes it.

“Padme-?” Obi-Wan prompts gently as he sets the ledger to the side, giving her his full attention.  He’s stripped to his shirtsleeves against the noonday sun coming through the windows, cuffs undone and rolled up to the elbow, and she feels her gaze get momentarily caught on the cord of muscle that runs along the length of his forearm.

She is losing her mind.

Pivoting away from him, both physically and mentally, she looks up at the map over the sideboard.  “I just-  There’s nothing for me to do.”

“And so you thought to take up fencing?”

“I don’t know.”  Honestly, she didn’t think about it much at all.  A fact which is becoming more apparent with every passing moment of this conversation.  Embarrassed at both her discontent and her forwardness, she sinks down into one of the armchairs with a sigh  “In truth, I would much prefer to find a more useful occupation.  When I lived at home I would help my mother manage the household and my father keep the accounts, negotiate with the tradesmen.  He was something of a botanist and so he had a small hothouse, and I would assist him with the plants, take the measurements.  I’m sure it all sounds quite unimportant to you, but I- I liked it.”

The statement catches her off guard even as she makes it.  How many times had she complained to Anakin about the smallness of her life?  Chafed under the conformity.  Longed for the adventure he offered.  Only now that it's gone does she realize that there was still reward in the work, a sense of significance in being relied upon, having her family’s trust.

Perhaps it had not been the life itself she resented so much as the lack of choice.

“I could-”  Obi-Wan hesitates as if stealing himself, “I could clear out the conservatory-  It hasn’t really been used since my Uncle passed, but I’m sure it’s still quite serviceable.”

“Oh-”  Padme blinks, surprised at the offer.  The conservatory is the one room in the house she’s never been inside.  It’s a magnificent structure, able to easily fit her family’s hothouse several times over.  Had apparently been built to Lord Jinn’s exacting specifications with the intention of holding specimens from his travels, only for him to pass before it could get much use.  She remembers rolling up to Stewjon and having her breath taken away at the sight of it, only to be sorely disappointed when she’d been informed that her husband had closed it up upon his uncle’s death.

Still, even as the idea sets something alight inside her, she hesitates to accept.  This is not her home.  Not really.  In a year’s time Anakin will have completed his education and secured his fortune, and she will be gone, across the ocean to Tatooine.  And suddenly she is struck by the fact that when that happens Obi-Wan will likely never see Anakin again.   She will be stealing away with her husband’s only remaining family.  To leave him alone like that with a dying conservatory he doesn’t know how to care for once again feels indescribably unscrupulous.

She shakes her head.  “That’s very kind, my lord.  But-” she tries to find the words to explain, “To truly do it justice would take years, and I-”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan interrupts understanding flickering to life in his eyes, “No point, when-”

For some reason, neither of them seem to be able to say the words.

Desperate to steer the conversation away from contemplation of a prospect she normally finds much more inviting, she tries again, “Is there not at least some assistance I could offer?  Some necessary occupation you find tedious or troublesome.  I may not have experience with an estate of this size but surely there must be some similarities.  What is it you do?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says airly, “Manage a household, keep the accounts, negotiate with tradesmen . . .”

Padme scowls, “Now you are mocking me.”

 

“No,” he shakes his head, suddenly serious, “Teasing perhaps, but not mocking.  I do all those things in some fashion.  Just on a rather large scale.  Let’s see,” he rifles through the papers on his desk, “currently I am checking the year’s contracts with the mills.  Reviewing the rents and trying to determine how best to apportion them out among needed repairs and improvements.  And-” he picks up the last sheet of paper with a sigh, “Approving a new menu, as Mrs. Nu informs me the cook is becoming upset that her ladyship thinks her capable of only a dozen dishes.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan-” she sighs and stands, holding out her hand, “surely you can trust me to do at least that?”

“I didn’t want to impose-”

“Impose, I am begging you.  Please, Obi-Wan, impose or I might go mad.”

“Very well.”  He grins as she snatches Mrs. Nu’s note out of his hand like a lifeline, “In that case, I don’t suppose you know anything about sheep?”

She doesn’t, but she can learn.

*

And learn she does.  Somehow come spring, Padme has, without really meaning to, developed firm opinions on everything from the new crop rotation strategy proposed by the AgriCorps, to the advisability of rerouting the drainage for the north fields. 

As with almost everything, she’s the one who starts it.  Even as she assumes more responsibility for the running of the house, and the staff becomes comfortable coming to her directly, Padme remains too conscious of the impermanence of her position to simply impose her preferences.  And so she insists on continuing to consult him on anything lasting from the color of new drapes for the drawing room (‘Padme, between the two of us I don’t think it's my taste that should be trusted.’), to the necessity of reassigning one of the footmen. (‘Really Obi-Wan, I know JarJar is exceedingly loyal to your family, but we’re running out of serving plates.’)  And Obi-Wan, apparently having handled all aspects of the estate for so long that he sees little distinction between their duties, responds in kind. Reading her the latest market report at breakfast, asking for her input on tenant concerns over evening brandy.

It’s this last practice she prizes the most.  She has grown quite fond of the manor house in all its masculine eccentricity; and she takes a certain small pride when she sees the seed drills she suggested at her father’s prompting beginning to be employed.  The sheep are-  Well the sheep are a necessary evil, and after she lost her favorite riding dress to an over-territorial ram, she doubts they will ever feel differently about each other.  But the people of Stewjon . . . 

Oh, she loves these people.

Most of Stewjon’s leases have been in families long before her husband ever took the title, and under Lord Jinn’s long absences and a benign disinterest that bordered on neglect they have developed a tendency toward stubborn, self-reliance which Padme finds admirable even as she knows it causes Obi-Wan no small measure of dismay when they proceed to simply do things he considers his responsibility. 

“I don’t understand.  Are the Lars’ repairs not sufficient?”

“The repairs are exceptional.  I’d hire Owen to come fix the window in the west bedroom if I thought he’d actually agree. That’s hardly the point.”

“Then what is?” 

She’s fairly certain she knows the point.  The Lars hold one of the longest running leases on the estate.  They have worked this land for as long as there’s been a Lord of Stewjon, maybe longer.  They know every inch of the estate intimately, are well regarded by all the other tenants, and have little use for their current lord.  Obi-Wan apparently tried to hire Owen as his land-manager when he first arrived only to be turned down flat, and has, ever since, seemed to take each encounter with the man as a personal barometer of how well he’s doing as Lord, only to invariably fall short.  Padme could tell him he’s wasting his time.  That the more he tries, the more he will be rebuffed.  She has met men like Owen Lars before, stalwart, steadfast, stubborn men, with too much pride and no time for pleasantries.  In fact, with exception of that last, she is quite sure she’s currently married to one.  Which is, of course, precisely the problem.  

“It worries me that they think they have to make the repairs at all,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh.  “It’s not that I don’t understand the impulse.  My uncle left everyone unsupported for so long.  But I had thought I’d started to overcome that.  That I’d built enough trust that they had begun to believe I could be relied upon to take care of such things.”

Padme thinks the day Owen Lars chooses to rely upon his lord for anything will come just shortly after the day she develops a fondness for sheep, but she doesn’t say that. 

They are simply too similar, these men.  Oh, Obi-Wan might hide his feelings under a cloak of refined, pleasant civility, but it is no less thick or tightly held than Owen’s own homespun gruffness, and neither seems inclined to drop it anytime soon.  At the rate they’re going, they will likely still be circling each other in such a fashion when they’re old and gray unless someone intervenes.  

She tries again.  “Sometimes people simply like to do things for themselves.  Think of Anakin.  You knew he’d be so much happier having earned his inheritance on his own merit than simply relying upon your good will for the rest of his life.  And as much as I hate to admit it, I think you were right.  I imagine it’s much the same for your tenants.  Besides, if your opinion didn’t matter at all Owen simply wouldn’t have said anything rather than pointing it out.  I do think he respects you, Obi-Wan, in his own way.”

“I don’t require him to respect me.”  That’s utter hogwash, and Padme arches an eyebrow to tell him so.  Obi-Wan cuts his gaze away and continues.  “It simply seems inequitable.  I do not like this sense of having avoided an obligation.”

Padme frowns.  She appreciates her husband’s sense of duty, truly.  How could she not when it has given her love so much?  But sometimes she wonders if Obi-Wan doesn’t cling to it all a bit too tightly.  Always placing his role and responsibility to others so highly he has lost all sense of self outside such constraints, and with it the ability to understand when people did things for reasons which were entirely their own.

Still his point is not without merit.  The repairs to the roof had to have been expensive and time consuming for Owen to perform.  And by rights all the structures on the estate are the Lord’s responsibility to maintain, it would set a poor precedent with the other tenants if they got wind of the situation and came to believe performing such maintenance on their own was now the expectation.

“What if-” she begins, then immediately hesitates, not sure if she’s about to overstep.  She has, until now, acted mostly as a sounding board, occasionally offering an insight here or there, but never going so far as to propose a solution herself.  But Obi-Wan simply regards her with rapt interest, waiting for her to continue.  Oh well, no backing out now she supposes.  “What if you didn’t avoid it?  I mean you were hardly going to perform the repairs yourself.”

The corners of his mouth curl in dry self-deprecation.  “No, I think not.”

“So really, this should be no different than if you had hired the work out.  Just have Mister Fett determine the current market rate for such labor and pay the Lars that plus the cost of the materials.  Or credit it against the next quarter’s rent if you don’t think he’d accept. You could even have it announced as policy for any tenant who wishes to do their own work.  Then Owen won’t have any reason to reject it as a favor.”

Obi-Wan nods thoughtfully, one hand stroking his beard as he considers her suggestion.  “It’s an idea. Though I’m sure Owen will still find a way to take offense.  Whether I choose the coin or the credits I will undoubtedly select the wrong option.”

“Would you like me to find out which would be least objectionable?”

“And what makes you think Mr. Lars is going to be any more receptive to the Lady of the House than the Lord?”

“Because-” Padme retorts with no small measure of self-satisfaction at finally finding something only she can do,  “I’m not going to ask him.  I’m going to ask his wife.”

*

Beru Lars turns out to be a modest, pragmatic woman with work-rough hands and one good dress who reminds Padme almost immediately of the Marchioness of Alderaan.  Both women possess a kind of quiet confidence that comes from being not only certain of one’s place in the world but utterly content with it. It is a quality Padme had always admired and envied Breha Organa for in equal measure, and she finds she feels much the same about Beru upon meeting her.  

She is, perhaps, beginning to understand the importance Obi-Wan seems to place on Owen’s good opinion. 

Fortunately, Mrs. Lars proves as compassionate and even-keeled as her husband is argumentative and irascible, and, even more importantly, immensely practical.  Apparently both acutely aware of her husband’s faults and unwilling to indulge them too far.  It takes all of two seconds after Padme serves the tea for Beru to both grasp the problem and propose the solution.

“I’ll talk to him.  Come by the cottage tomorrow, and I’ll be able to tell you what would be best.”

The rest of the afternoon passes quite pleasantly after that.

Still, despite the surety with which Beru speaks, Padme retains no small measure of doubt about her ability to make Owen Lars fall in line with anything, right up until the moment she rides up the next afternoon to be greeted by a gruff, “Don’t have much time for chit chat today, your ladyship,” which is quickly countered.

“Well then, it's a good thing she’s not here for you, and I happen to have plenty of time.”

Owen simply grunts and turns away but not before she catches the twitch of an affectionate smile that takes years off the man, turning him momentarily besotted and boyish.  And Padme loses all remaining concern that any edict Owen’s wife issues will not be followed.

Which is how, in the space of two teas, Beru Lars officially becomes her very favorite thing about Stewjon.

*

She interrupts Obi-Wan in his study immediately upon her return.  Too triumphant to even have taken off her gloves, much less gone through the effort of changing into something more appropriate.  

“Pay the Lars for the cost of the materials now so the money can be used to purchase supplies for the planting, and credit the work against next quarter’s rents, and you’ll have the Lars support for adjusting the repair policy.”

Obi-Wan drops his quill on the desk.  “You’re certain?”

Padme smiles as she begins to remove the hat pins from her hair, coming over to the stand by the desk when Obi-Wan pushes over the small cut glass dish she had brought in to hold his cuff-links after watching him once spend half-an-hour on his hands and knees searching for one from his Uncle that he misplaced.  And while she had found the whole event quite amusing she knows he is not eager to repeat the process with a hat pin.

“Owen Lars may have little regard for us, but he loves his wife.  And I can see why.  Beru is a wonderful woman, and more importantly for you a reasonable one.”  

“Are there any other conditions I should know about?”

“No.  But Beru did have a few suggestions.  First, you should have Mister Fett take orders for the materials in the future.  Both to eliminate the need for the tenants to handle upfront costs and reduce disputes about amounts and prices.”

“Plus, we have the benefit of the better contracts.”

“Exactly.”  Placing her hat down on the corner of the desk, she begins to work on her gloves.  “Second, we think it might be a good idea to-”

She frowns down at one of the buttons at her wrist which is proving a bit fiddly and then nearly swallows her tongue when Obi-Wan reaches out and takes her hand in his, drawing her over into the light, so he can slip the button free for her before continuing down the line.  “You know these are quite impractical.”

“I’ll have you know they are the height of fashion.”

“Of course.”  He huffs a laugh, and her pulse skitters a hop-step at the brush of breath along her wrist that she hopes he can’t feel under his fingers.  “Go on,” he prompts, “It would be a good idea to-” 

“To um-”  He’s finished with the first glove and holds out his hand for her other wrist.  She absolutely does not need his help with the second glove.  But her brain is too busy trying to recover her train of thought to realize that and she extends her right arm as she continues.  “To ask people to register the repair needs in advance.  That way you’d know what to expect, and they could get an estimate of credit so they could decide if it was worth their time if they would just prefer to let you take care of it.  We both agreed that was important.  It has to be voluntary.  Not every tenant will have the skill or abil- What?” Obi-Wan has stopped working on her buttons and is looking up at her with the oddest expression on his face.  “What is it?  Is it too complicated?  I’ve been worried about that, but-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “No, I just-  You’re rather well-suited to this you know.”

Oh.

"I like it," she admits softly.

"Good," he responds, voice equally soft. Then ducking his head, he proceeds in a more business like tone, "Stewjon is lucky to have you, however, temporarily."

He finishes with the last button and releases her wrist.

Padme strips off her gloves and tries to ignore the way the spot where he'd been touching her suddenly feels newly cold.

(tbc)

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up next: Anakin! We'll go back in time and do the elopment.

#obidala #obidala bridgerton au #obidala aus #padme x obi wan #obi wan x padme #cy writes things