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lightlycareless · 2 years

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First, it hurts— Chapter XII

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: there is allot of talking about periods, blood, sex, menstruations, all that kind of stuff. Medical stuff in a way, 😅. Misogyny, Naoya being insufferable once again, slight mentions of cheating, and basically fearing for your life.

A/N: Hello! Back at it again 🥰 just a quick heads-up, there won’t be an chapter update next week (April 30th) because I’ll be in a convention that weekend! I’ll be taking the whole week to prepare for it, so I won’t have much time to write, or adjust the chapter format for tumblr 😔

Nonetheless, I’ll be back 🥺! So no need to worry about me disappearing hehe; thank you for your endless support, and without further a do, happy reading!

Masterpost ➸ Chapter 13.

Ao3 link.

Call it obsessive behavior, or an insecurity of his own, but Naoya was cognizant enough to admit he wouldn't be able to spend a day without thinking of your whereabouts.

The necessity would slowly kill him, distracting him from his errands. Thus, he ordered Ranta to become his informant and keep a close eye on your steps.

The young man didn't object, and in fact, seemed completely supportive in taking the role of his spy if it meant it would flourish his relationship even further, ignorant to understand that these kinds of behaviors were often suffocating, if not abusive.

Nonetheless, he obeyed. And whenever you walked around the estate, he would closely follow.

Naoya was in the middle of a mission when he was first informed of your visit to the library.

He didn't think much of it, aside from considering it an odd selection of your part, when you could've easily been entertained by hobbies much more fitting of a woman of your role, such as knitting and cooking; he couldn't fathom the reason why you ended up choosing the library.

Perhaps you should’ve taken this time to become more acquainted with the estate, and start taking on a few of the responsibilities that pertained to being his wife. Naoya believes it would be nice to be dressed by you, instead of his rigid servants.

Well, not that it mattered much. There wasn't anything of importance on the books stored away that could be of use to you —aside from distraction—and his tranquility also came in the form of Junko, who he knew to be responsible enough to keep you in check if you were to act out of line.

A few days later, during another mission, Naoya was informed of the suspicions the members and staff of his clan began to have pertaining to your health

Now this concerned him.

He remembers you being in relatively good health before he left, and the days prior as well. But something inside him tells him it wouldn’t be under you to use your sickness as a justification to stay isolated from the rest of the estate, away from your duties.

Your husband's unfavorable thoughts were promptly stopped when his memory recalled the origin of these impressions, which came directly from two trustworthy sources: Ranta and Junko.

They knew better than to toy with him, and their involvement only meant your condition was to be taken as serious interest, leading the young Zen’in heir to grow genuinely concerned as he proceeded to demand more information regarding your condition.

But as trustworthy as Ranta was, there was something (or someone) holding him back from describing the symptoms you were experiencing.

His silence was received by Naoya’s ire, who frantically called him at the first moment he had available.

“I don’t know!” Ranta cried through the speaker as the clanking noises of metal hitting the ground filled the background. Apparently, the young man was in the middle of training when his master called.

He wasn’t given the time to pause his set or to relocate as Naoya began spewing questions immediately after he picked up the phone.

His anxiety grew heightened, for he now had to worry about picking up the tools he just dropped before Ogi came along —knowing well he would not hold back in punishing him for being so careless — and tending to your husband's rambles.

“Junko-san won’t let me know, she says we’ll have to wait for the end of the week to be sure. Do you know if something is happening by then? It’s not a special date or celebration, right?”

“Does that make sense to you?” Naoya criticized Ranta’s naivety with a sharp edge on his voice.

“No, of course not” He sheepishly admitted.

“Then figure it out!”

Much to his luck, he didn’t last in the dark for too long.

Just as Junko had promised, by the end of the week Naoya received the piece of news that would have him both frozen at the spot with consternation, and elated with relief.

“Your wife is pregnant!”

He had re-read this message roughly around 10 times, thinking it had been sent to the wrong number.

But he did not know of another relative with a wife —you being the latest addition— nor anyone else that could’ve been attempting to beget a child.

He even asked Ranta to confirm if he had not mistaken his message for someone else, with the young boy confirming his fear.

You, Y/N , we’re indeed pregnant.

Let's start by dissecting Naoya’s current emotions, beginning with shock.

This feeling wasn’t alien to most parents, whether originating from an unplanned pregnancy, or their efforts finally bearing fruit.

As stated before, Naoya wasn’t overly fond of having a chibi version of him running around the estate, so it was safe to assume that his reaction fell into the unplanned pregnancy section.

Another category that his thoughts could easily fit in was that of skepticism, if not ignorance.

For as he scrolled down through the seemingly endless messages of congratulations from his relatives and friends, his mind was going through the various scenarios trying to recount how and when this could’ve happened, as if he hadn’t been careless whenever he was intimate with you, and now, had to deal with the consequences.

He couldn’t squeeze having a child into his plans, especially after having an upcoming promotion to worry about.

Because even if Naoya was considered amongst the jujutsu community as an highly arrogant man, a difficult person to work with as a team, and unreasonably disrespectful to his female peers, he was still a very talented sorcerer.

Promising from a very young age, his clan didn’t take long before dumping their expectations of perfection onto his shoulders—ones he carried out with flying colors.

He'd be the one with the best grades in every subject, he'd also be the one to carry out more missions compared to the rest of the sorcerers his age, and most importantly, he’d be the most talented of Naobito’s sons, a fact that secured him the role of future leader of the Zen’in.

His hard work and talent was eventually recognized by the jujutsu community, who ranked him as one of the fastest sorcerers in Japan, just behind the limitless user Gojo Satoru, and his father Zen’in Naobito. A fact that he believed would change sooner than later since his father was growing older by the second, and he already had a better grasp at his technique than his father had when he was his age.

Certainly, after taking all of this into consideration, one could also safely assume a child wasn’t in his sights.

He was sure he’d let you know what he felt about this whole ordeal , but by some obscure process in his mind, he ended up believing you permitted this to occur just to sabotage him.

Was this your way to get back at him? If so, how low of you. Just after he thought you were starting to behave like a woman worthy of being his wife, you decided to go ahead and do the thing he confided in you not to do.

Well, it’s not like it was forced on him to take care of the child—that was your responsibility as a woman after all. And perhaps your punishment as well.

He’d have to share the same roof with the kid, but he could easily assign you to another room.

The positive aspect of this news, and the second part of his reaction, was that of your fertility.

Being pregnant meant you were capable of carrying his seed, proof of your functionality as a woman.

It would’ve been a shame if he had taken in a defective woman as his bride, such as the case of his uncle Ogi, who after many reassurances of being healthy and worthy of carrying his heirs, ended up miscarrying her first pregnancy after a few weeks of the initial announcement—later birthing 2 daughters into the clan, twins to make the matters worse. None with cursed energy.

The highest insult a woman could bring to her husband.

He didn’t worry about that though, he believes he chose his wife wisely. One with an impressive background and written proof of creating strong sorcerers.

Naoya knew that, even without the involvement of your blood, his heirs would all grow up to be strong, just like he was. For he wasn’t on the same level as his brothers and cousins, he never was. To compare him would be ridiculous.

You were only there to reassure his statement, and to keep him company.

At the end, Naoya delegated himself to deal with your pregnancy later, after he was done with his missions.

Not before giving in into the thought of how plump you would look as months passed, how your breasts would fill with milk, and how virtually useless you would become when his child became too much to bear, having to cling to him in order to get anything done around the house, a sight that had him stroking himself fervently in the middle of the night, gently moaning your name as he finished in his hand, but one that he unfortunately had to shove away in favor or securing his career.

A few weeks later, just as if the gods decided to listen to his silent worries, he received a message from the two people he’d rather avoid.

The first message was from his father, who cryptically encouraged him to try harder , or he couldn’t be a son of his. Naoya didn’t understand what his father meant, for he assumed he managed to complete his missions impeccably, even the agent sent to supervise his efficiency—heavily related to his upcoming Grade 1 exam—wrote a highly favorable review.

The thing that he disliked the most in this life, was being reprimanded by his father for his lack of performance. A small fire of displeasure began to ignite in the depths of his mind, but not strong enough to override his confusion.

The second message, enough to add into his inner turmoil, was of his older brother Naoaki, who in the same fashion as his father, ambiguously hinted at something much darker, but gave a lead to the culprit behind their words.

Should keep a tighter leash on your wife, the things women do when unsupervised 😳

His fire erupted out of control and was now directed towards you. Without second doubt, Naoya called Ranta, more than ready to order him to put you on the phone—for it was all he could do when away.

“Care to explain why my father and brother are talking shit about me?” Naoya seethed as soon as the call went through the line.

“W-what?!” Once more, the sounds clanking of metal falling to the ground was heard in the background, as well as curses of frustration from other accompanying members, presumably of the Hei. Ranta was training when his call came through, but Naoya didn't bother to check if he was busy, his matter was much more important. “Oh, wait, give me a second-”

“No! You'll stay on the phone and explain right this instant!"

“It’s about Y/N…isn’t it?”

“What else could it be about? Are you covering for my wife?”

“No! She’s just…ill”

“Ill? Don’t be stupid, she’s pregnant but apparently she did something— oooh , I get it know. She did something to the baby, didn’t she?” Naoya hotly hissed “The nerve of that woman, to think she would attempt something to my seed. I’ll teach her when I’m back that—”

“Naoya, wait! Don’t hang up” Ranta blurted.

“Are you going to put her on the phone?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that”

“Huh? And why must that be?”

“It’s….more serious than you think” The other voice on the line seemed to quiet down, almost as if it was forbidden to discuss this topic. His sudden change did not go unnoticed by Naoya, effectively stopping his unfounded rambles. “I didn’t want to tell you anything, because I assumed you would get distracted from your missions, but…once you come back, her staff will tell you everything”

“Wait— wait , why do you sound like that? What happened ?”

“Just focus on your missions, alright? Once you’re done, I’ll tell you”

When the fateful day arrived, and Naoya returned to the estate, the tension filling the air and eerie silence of the inhabitants made him believe someone had died.

From the way the servants nervously glanced at one another when unloading his belongings from the back of the car, to how they guided him through the and onto the dining hall, where Ranta, Mariya and Hitomi were already waiting for him, it was safe to assume someone had indeed passed away.

“Where is my wife?” Was the first thing that came out of Naoya’s mouth upon noticing the presence of your staff and your evident absence. He expected you to at least greet him by the gates, but instead, he was received by his faceless servants.

He wished to know what justification you would have for your lack of commitment to your duties, although deep inside, he was saddened by your inaction.

“She’s not able to accompany you today, for she is resting” Mariya bowed “I’d like to apologize in her behalf, and explain her absence”

She patiently waited for him to give her clearance and proceed, which sourly came in the mocking words of his choosing.

“Well?” Naoya scoffed “What could she possibly be resting from? I don’t think it can be compared to all the missions I had to do during these last few weeks. If anything I should be the one resting”

“No, of course not. Your wife didn’t mean to distract you from your missions” Your prime lady-in-waiting responded with the submissive tone she always used when she wanted her superiors to consider an upcoming request.

Her patience had to be commended, for Mariya was holding back the intense itch to slap him across the face for being so inconsiderate of your needs, and the disrespectful manner he’d been referring to you.

However, she knew his behavior wouldn’t have altered if he had seen the way you sobbed when the pain in your abdomen had grown too much to handle, or how you had chosen to stop eating in its entirety, since it would only end up in the toilet bowl hours later.

It wasn’t in his DNA to be compassionate to anyone, none of these men were capable of doing so.

“It’ll be short—Hitomi, get some refreshment for Naoya-sama”

The quiet seamstress nodded as she received the orders, turning in her heels and retreated into the kitchen.

The three remaining people waited for Hitomi to come back with the drinks before continuing, which she had not taken more than the necessary time to fetch, and quickly began serving the tea she knew as Naoya’s favorite upon returning.

Once she was done, she picked up the tray and held it against her chest as she went back to her original place besides Mariya.

The latter took a deep breath, psyching herself up with courage to delegate part of the news that had them overwhelmed with anguish these last few days.

“Naoya-sama, your wife was never pregnant”

“Huh?” he twisted his mouth, skepticism filling his words. “How is that even possible, weren’t you all rattling around the estate about it?”

“Her period was only late. We think it was stress that affected her cycle”

“Hah, stress, as if. What could’ve possibly stressed her?” He rolled his eyes “better yet, why was I given information no one deemed important to verify before telling me?”

“That situation is already being dealt with” Junko’s face flashed through Mariya’s mind, soon followed by a twinge of sorrow as she could only imagine what kind of punishment she was given to redeem her offense.

Mariya then clenched her jaw as her mind returned to Naoya, with her patience once again being tested. Luckily for her, she had a technique that would help her calm down her anger, something very much necessary when working in the Zen’in estate. She began counting to ten as she moved forward.

“Having to move into a new home is a very difficult process that many wives often struggle with—however, there is a much more serious topic we’re concerned about”

Naoya frowned as he rested his head against his hand, pushing her to continue.

“Lady Y/N has been bleeding for 14 days”

“Fourteen ?” Naoya mirrored in disbelief. It was the first time he’d heard of a woman having bled for so long, and not died. There was no way your ladies were telling the truth, and if they were, it was probably to cover a side effect of whatever garbage you consumed to terminate the pregnancy. How loyal . “How do I know she didn’t take anything that might have caused that?”

“She didn't ” Hitomi wasn’t one to have the same level of patience as Mariya, and this was evident in the way her voice was intertwined with poison when those words escaped her lips. Mariya’s eyes widened and she quickly glanced at the young woman, who with her tense face gestured to her to grasp her emotions better, for the sake of her job.

“Sorry” Hitomi murmured, eyes now peeled to the ground as she bowed.

“I apologize” Mariya retook the conversation “But yes, she hasn’t taken that might’ve induced these pains. We’ve been monitoring her diet and sleep hours, staying by her side since the first time she was wrongly suspected to be pregnant, but we weren’t able to figure out what is causing her this pains, so we’ve come with the decision that a visit to the doctor might be the best solution to her predicament”

“Have you given her some tea or something?” Naoya shrugged, completely dismissing her concerns “I mean, Y/N had bitched about hurting whenever we fuck , but you don’t expect me to beliueve she’s actually hurting, do you? She’s probably just to get pity out of you”

Your main lady, was not shocked to hear a man from this house acting so nonchalant about the women, but she futely hoped he would’ve taken a bit more interest in your health, after all, wasn’t he the one insisting on marrying you?

Nonetheless, she knew losing her inhibitions wouldn't gain you or her any positive outcome, and so, without much thought, the woman bowed down, lowering her forehead to the ground as she began to plead to the cruel master—who was your husband —to grace you with the smallest of mercies.

“Please, Naoya-sama. We worry we might no longer have a wife to serve if her case worsens. The doctor is our only hope”

Your husband smirked as he arrogantly looked down to the servants who were desperately seeking his approval.

The rush he gained from the power he had over someone else's life—the capability to either ruin or build them—was something he wished to never lose, to pressure them just enough until they thought they were going to break…but in order to keep the hierarchy functional, he too had to budge into their demands from time to time, so, after quick thought, he agrees to the proposal.

“Alright” he shrugs “Guess we can do that. But—I want to see her first”

“Allow me to take you” Mariya said as she jolted upwards, flattening the wrinkles of her yukata with the palms of her hand “Please, follow me”

“I think I remember where my chambers are, servant ”

“We moved her to another bedroom so she wouldn’t… disturb you”

Naoya didn’t know whether to be pleased by the consideration of your servants, or disappointed that he would no longer be able to feel your warm body besides him after a long day at work. Well, tradition meant he had to give you your space while you dealt with your woman problems . It was better this way, it’s not like he could make use of you anyways.

“Fine, take me to her room”

Mariya’s nerves heighten as she nods and begins leading him to your new chamber. It was customary for couples to have a separate bedroom to use separately if any of them fell ill, or when the woman was in her period, but once they improve, they go back to their husband

She knew very well you were taking advantage of this situation, as much as your pain allowed, to rest in a place that hadn’t been tainted by Naoya’s presence.

Mariya silently pleads that his visit doesn’t disturb you more than necessary, or that he once again decides to lose control and enact violence on you —because he somehow thought you were lying— as she gently grasps the shoji door and slides it open.

Luckily for you and for her, there was nothing to worry about. For when she guided her gaze back to his face, she found nothing less than fear decorating his facade.

There, on the futon found in the middle of the dim room, only lit by a scarce amount of candles, laid the body of an evidently hurting woman.

Various blankets covered your figure all the way up to your neck, making Naoya struggle to distinguish the look on your face, but once he inched closer, he was able to see how pale you’ve gotten from the last time he saw you.

He was also able to observe the way you furrowed your brows pressed against each other, how your eyelids were roughly closed, the way your parted lips gently gasped for air, with muted grunts rhythmically coming out from them…there was no denying—your pain was genuine.

Keeping you company, Haruko stood by your side as she looked down with disappointment at the now cold cup of tea she had left behind with intentions of being consumed by you—to no avail.

It had been like this ever since you started feeling worse. The nauseating sensation building up in the back of your throat prevented you from eating or drinking, and when you were able to eat, you barely picked anything from your plate.

To make things worse, no matter the beverage you drank or the pills you consumed, none of them seemed to have an effect on your cramps, so you were forced to deal with them the hard way, making every move or adjustment in your body an heroic effort.

Your staff had requested a doctor to come and check your status, but even he was able to admit that this was something out of his capabilities, and the suggestion of a gynecologist was promptly brought up. But in order to take you, they needed the permission of your husband.

Judging by the look of Naoya’s reaction, Mariya knew she no longer had to fight for your health. Just one glimpse at your figure and it would be enough for him to realize you were indeed in a terrible condition and had to be checked by an expert, urgently .

“How long has she been like this?” Naoya asked. The sight was hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Where could he have seen a situation similar like this?

“A few hours after she started bleeding” Mariya recounted “Her bleeding has lowered, so we don’t think she’ll get some type of anemia, but her pain is not usual”

You unnerved him.

“Fine” He decided “I’ll take her to the doctor”

Naoya ordered your staff to call the gynecologist in the phone book, the same one his uncle had taken Junko to when she first had her miscarriage, and to schedule the first appointment available.

However, even after he saw the pained expression in your face, he couldn’t erase the thought of his brother’s message and what he alluded to.

Had you actually gone ahead and acted against your body just to defy him?

Whatever your truth was, there was no way you could hide it from a doctor.

╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳╳

As if it knew what was going to happen, your bleeding had managed to stop one day before your doctor's appointment. Nonetheless, your staff didn’t inform your husband, for it was still detrimental for him to take you.

While you stayed behind in your chambers, with your ladies-in-waiting getting you ready for the long day ahead, Mariya had taken this opportunity to speak Naoya to and request permission to accompany you:

Her presence would undoubtedly bring you comfort, since it would prevent you from being completely alone with him, as well as serving as an additional witness to your miseries, for she was one of the few who had observed with great detail all that you had suffered through in these past few days.

Tragically, her intentions were quickly diminished when Naoya—who had intentions of overseeing today's activities personally—decided she would be much more useful in the estate than beside you.

“I insist, Naoya-sama” Mariya pressed one more time, but the young master did not relent.

“Your service is not necessary” He frowned “Or are you the one that’s sick?”

“No…of course not”

“Then know your place” and the conversation ended.

You were made aware of this conversation a few minutes after it had concluded, and his decision rang hollow in your ears.

Fear slowly invaded your mind as your consciousness began to place the pieces together, contemplating the possibility that his intentions were to isolate you and hurt you, this time, where no one could interfere.

The head of your staff mournfully apologized for not being able to do more and proceeded to place the finishing touches to your appearance.

Once ready, the 3 accompanied you to the gates, where your husband was already waiting for you.

He didn’t seem to notice your appearance until much later, after you were given enough time to admire his outfit of the day.

The sight of him in casual clothes was one that allured you, for you’d never seen him outside of traditional attire, nor did he think he enjoyed being out of it.

Naoya had decided to wear a black coat and a black turtleneck —more than adequate for the midday breeze— alongside black pants and black shoes, a monotone uniform that heavily contrasted the yellow kimono decorated with white embroidery accompanied with a blue obi your ladies-in-waiting had chosen for you as appropriate.

Their selection had you feeling quite…flamboyant, not to diminish Hitomi’s work, and made you think Naoya looked much better than you.

Well, he was handsome, that much you could admit, but his personality made all his efforts undesirable.

Your trading of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the familiar black car (the one you instantly recognized as the same one that transported you to the estate) appearing from just around the corner, the chauffeur carefully maneuvering the vehicle close enough to place the driver's seat just before Naoya.

Soon after, the man turned off the engine and exited the vehicle, walking in a bee line directly to your husband and handing him the keys, the motion causing you to silently ask the next observation.

“You’re…driving?” Originally intended for your musings, they were brought to the surface thanks to the shock caused by his sudden involvement.

You’d always considered him as one to indulge in the simple pleasures of luxury—as he seemingly had a servant for every task around the house—to the point he considered himself to be superior to the rest just because he could afford it.

So to see him very hands-on in taking the wheel…well, your reaction was justified.

However, he didn’t see your words as genuine curiosity, and instead, felt you were questioning his ability to drive, which made him snap back at you.

“Do you want to get fixed or not? Get in the car” Naoya defensively retorted.

You blinked a few times, exchanging nervous looks between your ladies —whose puzzled faces gave you the clear understanding they were sharing the same sentiments as you— before wasting more time and heading to the passenger's seat.

“Have a nice trip.” Haruko said.

“Well patiently wait for your return.” Hitomi added.

“Good luck.” Mariya finalized.

They might’ve not voiced it —nor did you or your husband noticed— but those words also served as reassuring for them, as the oscillating behavior of your husband and the yet-unknown findings of the doctor could be a dangerous combination, one that could erupt into an even harder situation between the Zen’in and your clan.

But the only thing they could do was pray that it never got to that extreme, as they mentally prepared themselves for the worse.

To be outside of the estate for the first time was an occurrence that brought you immense delight, but slight regret as it was made possible under less than desirable circumstances.

It has been so long since you've been able to see the sky outside of the estate, that it made it seem like you had been locked away for years, if not centuries! An immeasurable amount of time where you went without communicating with the outside world, aside from the people who lived underneath the same roof, when in reality, it had only been around 2 months.

This sentiment had naively caused you to expect to see the outside world drastically changed, almost unrecognizable, when in reality, the time that transpired was hardly enough to see a big enough of a change.

Yet, since you’ve never seen this part of Japan —nor seen it in pictures—, it might as well be your reality.

The main road connecting the Zen’in estate to the city had made your journey short, not taking long for the imposing edifices to start covering every inch of the landscape —with occasional glimpses of the background mountains escaping between buildings— making it impossible to believe you were in the forest only a few seconds earlier.

Your gaze darted through every sign and advertisement your husband’s driving speed allowed you to focus, taking in the eye-catching colors and impressive marketing with great admiration these company’s invested to incite you to spend.

You continued to observe every business available to the eye, quickly realizing this city had it all. From a wide variety of food establishments with cuisines of all over the world, clothing stores of luxury brands, banks, and one of your favorites, a karaoke —you definitely saw yourself visiting this concrete jungle in your free time, spending your payments of a successful mission in exchange for a good time…back when you were still an independent woman.

The possibility of this being a one time thing pains you, but you shove it down in favor of making the most —within your possibilities—of your time here.

Your appreciation was eventually cut short when Naoya began to slow down and take a left exit that led the car into the subterranean entrance of a building—the parking lot for its visitors.

This must be the location of the doctor’s office, you figured, and your anxiety makes an unwanted return.

It wouldn’t take long before Naoya found an empty space and parked the car in it, turning off the engine once he deemed it properly placed.

His eyes didn’t falter from the board for a few seconds, deep in mysterious thoughts while you quietly observed him. Was he regretting taking you out of the estate? Did he think this visit was useless and that you were lying to him? Perhaps . But he wouldn’t let you know.

Eventually, he blinked a few times and lightly shook the ideas out of his head as he suddenly remembered where he was and what he was going to do. He ordered you to follow him closely before he opened the door and stepped out.

Doing as requested, the two of you made way to the nearby elevator, Naoya frantically tapping the button to call the lift, gently pushing you forward onto the empty space when the doors finally opened.

Same as in the car ride, the walk towards the doctor's office was painfully quiet. You remained under the impression this is how Naoya wanted you to behave, and you happily obliged, for anyone would’ve been a much better company than him. You had no desire in his interest, only following his words out of concern for your own health.

Instead, you decided to focus on the various scenarios that could present to you when alone with the doctor.

Aside from informing her about your current predicament, you would also take this time to report you’ve been abused by the one you had the misfortune to call your husband. Most doctors had a moral code to abide by when it comes to their patients personal lives, you were sure there was no way she would keep quiet.

But in the mind of the other person in the elevator, fear of you escaping wasn’t something he considered plausible. Naoya never did anything without previous planning, and your appointment was no exception.

Instead, his thoughts were cemented in a sour meeting he had hours ago with his father, one where dangerous threats were exchanged pertaining to your role in the family as well as his marriage.

Your sickness hadn’t come for free, there was a reason why it had occurred and why they never saw it coming.

Naoya was forced (as well) by his father to figure out what was behind it and deal with it appropriately.

He just hoped it wasn’t serious…because Naoya doesn’t know what he would do if Naobito decides to go through with his plan.

The young Zen’in heir is brought back to reality when he arrives at the door of the doctor’s office.

Once inside, the first thing that you do is quickly scan through the waiting room and it’s decorations, trying to identify who is to be your doctor, and if there were any other patients that could be of help to your escape.

There were no other visitors, but that didn’t stop you from analyzing the room.

It was moderately spacious, just enough to hold a receptionist desk on the right side of the entrance, a pair of white chairs that go along well with the white tiles and white walls, and a glass table before them with a white vase filled with lilies.

Hanging on the wall adjacent to the chairs, just a few feet higher up, laid a grey analog clock that dictated the current hour with a few minutes of delay. On the other wall hung a sign, one that described the name of the services provided and the doctors working.

You weren’t able to distinguish if the names were female or male, but you secretly hoped they were female.

Naoya went ahead and checked in with the receptionist, who greeted him formally with the respect any other patient was deserving of. The lack of friendliness gave you the impression this was the first time he’d come here, so perhaps, there was no form of favoritism in play, making your plan easier to execute.

Unfortunately, your plans to escape would come to an abrupt end when, after a few minutes of being asked to wait for the doctor, the latter would come out and greet Naoya as an old friend.

“Zen’in! It’s good to see you. How is your father?”

“He is well, thank you”

This sense of familiarity between the doctor —which turned out to be a man, much to your displeasure—and your husband rang a distress alarm in the back of your mind. You felt ridiculous even considering your attempts would be easily permitted when it had been Naoya orchestrating this whole circumstance in the first place.

From the moment he ordered your staff to schedule an appointment with the doctor, to deciding to take you personally, all had been done in order to keep a close eye on you.

Not even the impressive view of the city from the 10th floor of a building was able to subdue your horror.

“Please, sit down,'' the doctor, who was either ignorant or indifferent to your unsubtle reaction, gestured to the two white chairs before his pristine glass table where a computer screen, keyboard and mouse were found.

You chose the seat furthest away from you and sat down by the edge, hands resting on your lap, while your husband sat all the way back with crossed arms. The body language was clear as water: you were nervous, while your husband was defensive.

The man with the white coat mirrored the couple’s actions and sat down as well, adjusting his chair directly in front of the keyboard as he repeatedly clicked and scrolled around the system, pulling up the new patient form to fill.

Once he was ready, he looked up to you.

“What’s your name?”

“L/N Y—”

“ Zen’in ” Naoya corrected, the doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Which one is it?” The latter queries, having no interest in your personal feud, invested only in typing down the correct information for his usage.

“Zen’in Y/N” You answered in submission

“Age?”

“18”

“Do you know your height and weight?”

You dubiously answer with your measurements, expecting Naoya to attack you with an offhand comment of your body, but much to your surprise, he keeps quiet.

However, like most doctors, he couldn’t keep quiet and suggested that you should lose some pounds.

This makes you silently annoyed, for the last thing you wanted was a stranger to speak of your body, even if he was the supposed expert.

“Have you had any sexual relationships?” The man moves on, his question makes you quietly glanced at your husband.

Naoya, however, does not keep quiet and scoffs. His reaction tenses you up even further, knowing very well that his reaction could be wrongly interpreted between men raised in a patriarchal society, where being labeled as a promiscuous woman was far from ideal, and might affect the doctor’s interest in your treatment.

Yet, your assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth, as Naoya’s reaction comes from feeling offended —if not mocked— by this question.

He held back the need to tell him that you were obviously sexually active, because you were his wife.

“Yes”

“I’m presuming with the man here? Is he your husband?” The doctor gestures to his eyes at Naoya, who is now wearing a subtle scowl in his face. The latter felt it was almost unnecessary to ask what should’ve been obvious by just looking at them.

Well, the doctor was simply doing its job, and sometimes, that entailed asking obvious questions.

“Yes, he is”

The doctor writes down your information, promptly stopping upon beginning the next section.

“Had you had any kind of sexual relationships?”

“Huh? Me?” Naoya points to himself as his mouth twisted “What do I have to do with anything? I’m not the one getting checked here”

“I need to know” The man persisted once more, just enough to make Naoya surrender.

“Fine, yes, obviously with my wife” Your husband answers vaguely, which is not enough for the expert.

“And no one else?” You begin to wonder why the doctor is so adamant in knowing how many people Naoya had slept with.

He didn’t ask you that, and didn’t even bother fact-checking if one of your previous flings accidentally slipped your memory, or if you actually had sex.

No—he simply went ahead and boxed you in the misogynistic ideology that you’ve kept yourself intact for your husband until your wedding night, while he was permitted to fool around with someone else.

Certainly he didn’t believe Naoya would admit committing such a thing, in front of his wife no less…

“I have”

You paled.

“But that was before I got married”

And now, your eyes widened.

There was not enough time in between answers to process what he had just admitted.

From preparing yourself to denounce him for disrespecting the relationship he had forced you to partake in —respecting it was the least he could do after violating your individuality— to freezing when admitting he hadn’t seen anyone else with a seemingly genuine (and subtle) tone of voice.

Naoya didn’t strike you as one to be faithful —although you hadn’t really given it much thought until now— so his confession came to you as a very shocking surprise.

Did he really…not see anyone else? Not even during the time he was away?

You…you didn’t know how to feel.

“I see” The medic continues to type down onto his keyboard “Now, Y/N-san”

Your attention was brought back to the man before you, immediately returning to the present and the reason for your visit.

“What brings you here today?”

“I—” You involuntarily turned to your husband, futilely searching for comfort in the golden eyes that only flashed edginess, quietly urging you to continue.

Now looking down at your lap, you take a deep breath as you prepare to describe the horrors that haunted you from the first day you learned you were pregnant.

“—And did you continue bleeding after those 14 days?” Naoya’s ears perked, quietly moving closer as to take a better listen to your answer.

“I only stopped bleeding yesterday. By that time, the pain was almost unnoticeable” Naoya seems offended by small detail you decided to hide from him, and a desire to confront you beings to ignite, but is quickly brushed off when he reminds himself he was here to discover what started the whole ordeal to begin with.

“I see” The doctor had meticulously typed everything you’ve told him, formulating various reasons that could’ve incited this behavior from your body.

It was easy to pinpoint your problems as caused by hormonal issues, as most doctors did, but he felt there wasn’t something you were telling him, or perhaps something he hadn’t asked you yet.

You had admitted partaking in a very organic and healthy diet, thanks to your staff, so the involvement of unhealthy habits was out of the question.

Stress? Well, it was almost impossible to name a thing that wasn’t affected by stress, but he assumed that wasn’t your case since you were properly taken care of (very convenient to ignore you were being abused by none other than your husband) and didn’t have to work, according to the questionnaire about your habits he asked you to fill.

You were sexually active and your husband had been somewhat rather careless by finishing inside you, this could’ve easily affected your cycle, but the symptoms you described couldn’t have been of a typical miscarriage. Not at all.

Women don’t get these issues out of nowhere just because. There was always a third party involved. Whether it be genetics or medicine, which leads to the next question…

“Did you take any medicine during these last months that would have affected your menstruation?”

Naoya immediately knew he had you cornered.

If you decided to lie, the doctor could easily order you to get examined and the results would do the speaking for you.

But if you decided to come clean, then he would know if Naoaki’s words were true. If you actually dared do something against his seed.

your throat constricts as you feel the heavy gaze of your husband on your back, swallowing the fear of repercussion your next words might bring.

“—yes. Birth control pills”

His forehead furrows as his gaze slowly turns red. His experience as a semi grade 1 sorcerer helps him to quickly devise various ways to make you pay for your insolence, for the guts you had of attempting to do something against his approval, no, his knowledge .

You were the reason why Naobito and Naoaki had decided to hover around him like a pair of vultures ready to attack once given enough ammunition. He’d had to make an example out of you, because apparently, you still haven’t learned what your place—

“But I stopped taking them before I got married”

Naoya could hear the train of his thoughts coming to a screeching halt when you elaborated further. He frantically looked at the doctor, seeking to catch the faintest shade of disbelief in his eyes, something to prove he wasn’t wrong in judging you so harshly—but nothing. If anything, the doctor seemed to be relieved to have found the root of all of your misfortunes by the way his mouth curved into a satisfactory smile.

“Ah, there it is!”

Naoya didn’t seem to understand why those pills had anything to do with your late cycle, luckily for him, the doctor still had a few more questions to ask.

“Why did you start taking them?”

“I used to deal with cramps that would leave me bedridden for 2 days a month. I eventually grew tired of it, so I went to the doctor and she suggested a treatment involving birth control pills. They worked perfectly, and in a few months, my cycle became more regular and my flow lighter”

“And on that note, why did you stop taking them? Did the doctor told you to stop?”

Far from it.

You remember vividly the day your father came into your room and sheepishly asked you to stop taking those pills.

You were beyond frustrated, and in fact, straight up rejected his request by kicking him out of your room. You thought it was his ignorance speaking, since he was very adamant in not letting you start that treatment in the first place—if it hadn’t been by Hinata and Ren, you probably would’ve never made it to the doctor’s office. However, after he began to admire the results of your treatment, and how happy you were by enjoying the newfound liberty of getting to choose how to spend all of your days, he immediately conceded to admitting he was wrong.

Unfortunately, he had a change of mind.

The next day, when the alarm set to remind you to take your pill went off, you couldn’t find the box anywhere in your room.

You went through all of the staff, asking if they had seen them anywhere, perhaps accidentally relocating them when they cleaned your room, but that wasn’t the case. All admitted to not seeing the familiar container, which led you to think you had dropped them somewhere on the street, or lost them during a mission.

But those options weren’t viable either, since you had stayed inside the house these past two days, and you remember well taking them yesterday—leaving one possible explanation.

It didn’t take much confrontation for your father to admit he was the one that disposed of your pills. You shrieked and groaned, yelling at him that he had no right to decide what to do with your body, especially after you had explicitly told him not to intervene. You even tried reasoning with him, reminding him that the treatment couldn’t be terminated without previous consultation, and that you weren’t considering stopping it since your body had reacted positively to it.

Yet, your father had no intentions of listening more of your explanations, and reminded you of your place and his rose in this house, finalizing the argument by saying

If I deem it necessary for you to stop medicating your body, then you will do as I say.

As much as he wanted to comfort you after seeing your teary face and heartbreaking sobs, to take you to the doctor and mend his wrongs, he couldn’t do so.

His order had come directly from your future in-laws, specifically Naobito (being the most experienced in these matters) who requested your preparation for the wedding, meaning your body had to be fertile for the honeymoon.

Fast forward to the present, you now find yourself dealing with the consequences.

“…I…wanted to get pregnant” you lied in what you thought Naoya wanted to hear. Your husband seemed somewhat pleased by your response, although he doesn’t really know the true reason why you stopped.

“Birth control pills are basically a hormonal profile that comes in the shape of 30 pills, one for each day of the month. You’re supposed to take them every day, for various years, until your body assimilates the new profile. However, if you stop taking the pills when your body hasn’t completed that adjustment, the first thing that happens is that you’ll start bleeding almost immediately and non-stop”

Naoya took in the information as if it were a mission statement, as much as he could force himself to understand the inner workings of a woman. This gave him a new perspective of your life, one that he never intended to seek out unless presented in a situation like this.

He didn’t think pregnancy prevention pills could be used for other things, nor did he condone their usage, as he thought they only soiled the value of a woman (how pedantic ) and a waste of resources.

“But…I didn’t start bleeding until much later. In fact…I bled the same day I was supposed to, as if I never stopped taking the pills” You tried to explain, but he had no interest in the words of a civilian who clearly didn’t take years preparing herself in this field.

“There is a chance that your body was still under the effect of the pills until your last period, and it wasn’t until now that it’s starting to go back to your previous hormonal profile, but most likely, you were just lucky”

“A-and my pain?”

“Just regular cramps. They were a bit out of control due to your body adjusting to the new changes, but I assume that for your next menstruation they’ll go back to how they were”

“But…I don’t want to—”

“Can she still get pregnant?” Naoya interrupted without consideration, for he thought it was now his time to ask. Sure, it was illuminating to hear why you were taking those pills and what not but he now desired to know more of the topic that would directly affect him and your role in the estate.

“Yes, but it’ll take around 2 or 3 months for her to be able to conceive” The doctor suddenly stood up from his chair, walking towards the door and motioning you to follow into the adjacent room, where machinery pertained to observe the health of a woman’s reproductive system was stored. Naoya wasn’t able to process the expert’s last statement—nor ask him to explain further— before he saw you stand up as well and walk towards the room.

“What are you going to do?” The young Zen’in heir asked out of curiosity.

“Check the status of her ovaries, as well as her vagina. I’ll also be taking a few tissue samples and sending them to the lab, just to check she’s healthy” The men continued to speak, referring to your husband, as if you weren’t even in the room.

As if his treatment didn’t make you feel bad, this left you feeling even worse, like a glorified mare. One that had the misfortune of getting sick, and now had to get treated.

The other fact that agitated you was that the doctor didn’t even bother asking Naoya to stay outside the room, as most doctors did, and take this private moment to ask you if you were saying the truth, if you were being abused, if you were safe. Hell, if you even wanted him in the room.

No, he allowed your husband to stay inside and hear all the instructions he requested you to follow so he could work in your lower areas, solely focusing on completing his job and getting paid.

Feeling completely humiliated, you forced yourself to follow his directions just to get this over with.

Revising your ovaries was the easy part, once he got to work inside your vagina was when you expressed your displeasure through a whimper.

“You’ll be fine” The doctor attempted to reassure you “Just get on top of the seat, and rest your feet on the sides”

You followed. Once reclined all the way to the back, you closed your eyes and tightened your grasp on the arm support, knuckles whitening as you anxiously waited for the contact of the cold tool of his selection.

When inside, you would whine and flinch whenever he brushed a particular sensitive area that would reminisce you of the pain you felt when intimate with your husband, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by the doctor who glanced at the nearby monitor broadcasting the pinkish colors of your walls for all to see.

“Does it hurt?”

“Y-yes” you mumbled honestly.

“Of course it does, you have tears inside your vagina”

“W-what?” a gasp escaped your lips, you imagined that was your predicament, but hearing it out loud sounded much cruder than you would’ve liked.

“How did that happen? Again with the pills?” Naoya peered over the doctor's shoulder and back to the screen, not understanding how he could’ve gotten that verdict.

“These tears” he points at the unusual red spot now visible in the monitor “are usually caused by the forcible introduction of an object without previous lubrication. She has an alarming number of cuts, but none of them will need stitches”

Stitches?!

“Why didn’t you bring her in before ?” Naoya tensed up, shooting a quick nervous glance at your direction, which fell deaf to your attention as you were too focused on the screen —and perhaps too nervous to confront him—and then back to the man.

“S-she didn’t tell me” was what your husband decided to go with.

“Ah, so a sucker for pain, eh?” The doctor chuckled, a noise that caused you disgust. “Luckily it’s not that bad”

You frowned, Naoya was blatantly lying because you’d had, in fact, told him on various occasions that you were hurting whenever he plunged inside you. But, of course , he didn’t care, and he wouldn’t do so until an expert verified that your concerns were, in fact, not delusions. That was for sure.

But what could this mean…for you ? Would you even heal? Or has your husband ruined you forever?

After the doctor was done, you were free to dress up in your yellow kimono and go back to his office, where he would deliberate the cares you’d have to go under for the next few weeks. It didn't consist of much more than buying a cream that you would have to apply every few hours around your vagina, a vaginal soap for daily use, and some pills to prevent infections.

But the one treatment that Naoya was strongly opposed to was abstinence from sex for roughly 3 weeks.

"Also, I recommend that she gets a pelvic ultrasound and a blood test just to be sure she doesn't have any cysts, and all her other levels are ok. I will write you the order and where to get them done, and that’ll be all—The payment will be with the receptionist. If you have any questions, you can contact me at this number."

"Wait, doctor, what do you mean I can’t—”

"A stress-free environment will also ensure a speedy recovery” The man glanced at the watch in his arm, realizing that his break was due soon. He quickly ushered the couple out of the office, not leaving any more time for Naoya to bicker about his treatment. “Until then, I'm sure you'll find a way to kill time, take her out for dinner or something, I don’t know. Goodbye."

The doctor slammed the door shut, preventing your husband’s words from escaping their confines.

Naoya groaned as the urge to slam his fist against the door was growing too much to bottle, but the presence of the observing receptionist held him back.

Instead, his eyes traveled towards your direction, hoping to see the kind of reaction you’d have on your face.

Would it be happiness, because under official orders , you’ll be able to stay away from him? A cocky grin spreading your lips, ready to rub it in his face that you were always right and that he should’ve listened to you sooner?

No. The face that received him was far from the emotions he suspected you to carry, and instead, portrayed a more realistic rendition of your thoughts, one that he couldn’t define as sadness or resentment. But a strong sentiment nonetheless.

Naoya’s mind couldn’t formulate a reasonable justification of why you could be sorrowfully reserving your thoughts to yourself; asides from thinking that you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to carry a child —even if the doctor said time would fix that situation— or that he didn’t listen to your warnings.

If the former were the case, then he could be understanding; compassionate, even.

Yet, you weren’t the only affected.

He too was depriving himself from being a father (which he didn’t want to be) and from your body (the real reason he was bitter). He could admit he had messed up when not listening to you, now that the doctor proved you were not lying. All that was left to do was follow your treatment and hope for the best.

But as quietly stood behind him as he paid the receptionist, later exiting the office and going to the elevator…he began to realize he didn’t like this aspect of yours. Your eyes were lowered and dark, void of any glimmer and definitely pitiful.

An hideous aspect that covered the beauty he knew you had.

He much preferred you emotionless, at least he wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

However, as sad as your exterior portrayed itself to be, deep inside, you were furious .

Because all of your sufferings, once again, were caused by his actions.

You could confidently say this whole ordeal irritated you:

From Naoya failing to understand that his aggressions to you could hold serious repercussions, to how he only asked about matters directly affecting him, it was easy to understand that you were never his equal, and took you out of the estate by duty rather than genuine concern.

And the doctor’s professionalism left much to desire. Both men were obviously cut by the same cloth.

Nonetheless, you were glad that something positive came out of this.

When he requested Naoya to stay away from you for around 3 weeks, you couldn’t have been happier. It was the first time an external force had managed to complete the task you desperately fought to achieve—a feat that you would take advantage of.

However, you were sad it had to get to these extremes in order to cause a change. Sacrificing your health, with the possibility of this affecting your body in the long term…just to put a stop to his abuse.

You hoped your sacrifice wasn’t in vain, and that it bought you enough time to make your escape.

For now, your only wish is to get your medicine, head back to your staff, and sleep for the rest of the day. You could plan tomorrow, when you are in a much better mood.

You quietly trailed the path back to the car —trying to not show yourself too eager to leave— and placing your hand on the door handle, pulling it open.

It was only until now that you realized the car had yet to be unlocked, and that Naoya wasn’t anywhere near you.

You looked around, wondering where Naoya could’ve seen that distracted him from leaving, eventually finding him still standing by the elevator.

Naoya didn’t know what possessed him.

Perhaps it was the guilt of having misjudged you without reason, or the urge to prove himself as the providing husband, but something about your sorrowful face and quiet demeanor struck a nerve deep inside him, and wanting to follow the suggestions of his doctor, he formulated a request that thought would help you get some distraction, and hopefully, some recognition for him as well:

“Want to get something to eat?”

Too inundated by negative thoughts, and shocked by his imprudent offer, you didn’t take a second to consider his suggestion, and quickly shook your head.

“I want to go back”

“After we get something to eat” Naoya gestured with his head at the elevator door “I’m starving, aren’t you? I’ll even pay” he tried to play it off with a smirk, which only had you rolling your eyes. Luckily, the distance between the two didn’t allow him to see your reaction.

It’s not like I have any money anyways you thought.

“...Fine” you mumbled and retracted your hands from the lock.

It’ll be quick, you try to motivate yourself, you just have to ignore him.

Naoya decided to take you to a local shopping mall that had a food court, which coincidentally also had one of his favorite fast-food chains.

He rarely allows himself to indulge in fast food, since he tends to keep good care of his body, but it had been a while since he last ate any street food and he was already outside, might as well take advantage of the situation.

“Don’t stay behind” He placed his hand over yours and pulled your body to the front, where he could have a good look at you. “I don’t want you to get lost”

Although it was almost impossible for him to lose sight of your persona, since you were the only woman in sight to be wearing a kimono. This led to many onlookers to stare longer than he would’ve liked, but pride filled him when his mind suggested they were jealous of his possession over you. Something they would never have.

In reality, their observations came from experiencing the unusual sight of a young woman wearing a traditional attire, since most now preferred casual everyday clothes, and the only ones still holding a piece of culture being those of older age. In a way, a realistic portrayal of the ideals that ruled the Zen’in clan.

You, on the other hand, failed to share his perspective, and in fact, despised the notion that even after you left the doctors office, you were still treated like a freak.

It didn’t take long before the two of you arrived at what would be the food court—with the combined scents of food having you salivating as soon as the smell hit your nostrils.

It had also been a while since you last ate junk food, your stomach instead being filled with what many would consider rabbit food, courtesy of the strict diet your ladies prepared. Not that it was flavorless but…it isolated you from indulging in small treats. Not even once were you allowed to eat a sweet.

Maybe Naoya’s offer wasn’t as ill-advised as you initially thought, and would be able to get something out of it.

Your eyes darted through the many businesses and what they offered; and all of them were appetizing to you.

They had a wide arrangement of fried food, from ones that you managed to recognize as establishments you’ve tried before with your friends, to completely new ones you have yet not ventured to try.

There were so many! Having to choose one was an almost impossible effort. Maybe if you had a coin you could—

“Let’s get this one” Naoya pointed to an establishment on the right side of the court. One that had a large sign on top where it described the name of the business as well as the food they provided. Noodles, in their majority.

Right , your eyes narrowed. You didn’t think you would be able to choose your own food, did you?

However, the menu that one of the workers handed to you once you arrived did not disappoint.

It held a variety of dishes and drinks to choose from, all incredibly greasy compared to the food back at the house, and definitely alluring to the eye.

Once again, you were sure you’d have a difficult time choosing one option out of the many, but thankfully there was a moderately long line of 5 customers waiting ahead of you to be served. More than enough time to try out the customer’s favorite , 1 bowl of noodles of your choosing, a dessert, and a drink.

You looked up at Naoya, ready to inform him you were ready to order, only to flinch when you realized when he had been glancing down at the menu in your hands. Your reaction caused him to raise an eyebrow and smirk mockingly.

“What? Did you see a—”

“Naoya, is that you?” A voice managed to cut through the noise of the crowd and the words of your husband. It was high pitched and toned a bit shrieky, undeniably a female’s voice. “Naoya!”

“Huh?” Your husband looked around to the one who called him, his eyes eventually landing on the brunette woman who he’d quickly recognized as one of his previous flings. Fuck! He cursed. Exactly what he didn’t need to deal with right now. “Why are you ignoring my calls? They eventually stopped going through, did you change numbers?” she asked, completely ignoring your existence (not bothering to check if he was busy to begin with), as she placed her hand over her hip.

“Yeah— What are you doing here?” he nervously asked.

“I work here” she frowned “At a department store on the second level. I thought I told you…?”

Once the two began to exchange words, your mind tuned them out, preferring to focus once again on the menu before you. You had no reason to meddle in their conversation, nor the interest.

However, the thought of Naoya knowing other women stung you in an inexplicable way, and you begin to think that maybe he wasn’t telling the truth back at the doctor’s office.

Because this is exactly what you needed, to also be ridiculed in your own marriage.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” She pressed Naoya further, who really didn’t want to deal with her at this precise moment.

However…this was a situation he never thought he would find himself in.

While you were reserved and doubtful when it came to reciprocating his feelings or acknowledging his efforts, there were others who were far more eager to get a glimpse of his attention. Such as this woman, which he quickly discarded after one night, but somehow managed to create a meaningful impact to keep her hooked on him.

He could certainly use this moment to remind you of all the things you would lose if you didn’t defend what’s yours and start behaving as his wife .

A malicious plan began to form in his mind, one that intended to make most of your reaction.

“Ah, haha, you’re right!” He chuckled, the noise causing you to feel apprehensive. “I did change my number, and lost all of my contacts”

“Gee, Naoya! You made me worried there. And here I thought you had forgotten about me” the woman laughed. It remained the same obnoxious noise that always irritated him. A sting of disappointment sails across his chest as he realizes he had never heard your laughter.

He thinks it would be a nice sound.

“Just been busy, that’s all” your husband shrugs.

“Give me your phone! I’ll type my number down for you”

He thinks this would’ve been the perfect moment for your reaction.

He imagines you setting your foot down and snapping at the other woman , effectively telling her off and ordering her to leave her husband alone. The feeling of having two women fighting for him gives him a rush of validation, for he thinks he is a great catch and many would kill just to have him as a friend.

But…it doesn’t happen.

Instead, you just stay there. Seemingly unaffected by his actions as you continue looking through the menu, deciding on what to try first.

You were partly indifferent to his games, since you assumed he only did this to toy with you…

But the fact that he decided to play this out now, not even an hour after you were told a hard-to-swallow truth about your condition, made you hurt.

But the proof that he could be nice, and he decided to be like that with a stranger, and not to you, his wife , hurt you more.

Ignorant to one another’s sentiments, the two of you stand in silence as the brunette wonders where this tension is coming from, but doesn’t stop her from anxiously waiting for her lover’s phone.

Eventually, Naoya is irked by your inaction, and decides to call off his operation.

“Get the fuck away from me” Naoya growls at the woman, a sudden change of behavior that has to latter’s mouth gaping and her eyes widening in shock. “I blocked your stupid number in case you didn’t notice. I have no interest in you, in fact, I never did.”

“What?” The woman breathes “What are you talking about? You just said—”

“I know what I said. Take the fucking hint , can’t you see I found someone infinitely better?” you sense he was referring to you and you hastily turned to the woman who was now seething with anger and jealousy. Your eyes went round as she strides to your direction.

“Is this your girl now? This—this servant ?” She attempted to insult your choice of wardrobe, although many passersby had already noted with muted murmurs how beautiful and intricately constructed it was. In fact, she too considered your kimono to be on the expensive side of the spectrum, she just didn’t know how to attack you where it would hurt. “This ugly bi—”

“Please refrain from insulting me” you contended “I don’t know you. And you can do whatever you want with him, we’re nothing but strangers.”

“What the fuck ?” The woman replied “She doesn't even care about—”

“I had enough of your bickering, get lost before I call the police” Naoya threatened one last time, enough to quiet the commotion.

The woman lost all words as she looked at you, and then at him, and eventually to the crowd that began surrounding them when she released her initial shriek.

Naoya’s determined gaze was enough to give the clear impression she wasn’t wanted, and hoping to preserve the last of her dignity, she huffed and hurried away, presumably to her work place to begin her shift.

The altercation left you with a sour aftertaste in your mouth and heart rapidly beating. You were never one to confront strangers, as was a very nerve-wracking action to pull, but you weren’t going to allow her to attack you just because she desired so.

Your eyes ultimately glanced up at the worker, who had seen the whole interaction in front row seats, and you gently apologized with a bow for having to witness this undesirable exchange, even though you too, an innocent bystander.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Naoya spoke up.

“I told her to stop insulting me” You reminded him.

“No , you know damn well what I meant” He hissed, clenching his jaw.

“You’re free to do whatever you want” You had no intention of entertaining him, not when you were only being brought forward to be humiliated and attacked. He could’ve easily diffused the situation, dismissed her, or straight up ignored her, but he decided against it because it was in his nature to not care for anyone else but him and his sick games.

“A proper wife would’ve defended what’s hers” Naoya stated as to conclude this discussion, but if anything, this ignited your indignation even further. “It’s pathetic for a woman to act that way—a shame really.”

You could literally hear something inside you snap as he insulted you one last time. You didn’t care if everyone saw you, nor if they heard you. He clearly didn’t care, never did, what difference would it make if you lowered yourself to his level?

“What is your problem, Naoya?” You retorted, and like a volcano ready to erupt, you began to release all of your emotions. “I stand out of your way and let you do whatever you want. I let you treat me like garbage, I let you talk shit about my family, I allowed you to paint me as the irresponsible woman who doesn’t care about her health in front of the doctor, and I even allowed you to push my sister away. And it’s still not enough!—What else do you want from me ?! ”

Naoya never expected, of all reactions, for you to choose this route.

This sudden outburst of emotion was something he would’ve preferred to avoid, if not completely ignore.

But now that he was forced to deal with it, he didn’t know how to react that didn’t entail responding with the same energy.

He favored dealing with you in a secluded area, perhaps on the parking lot or even the estate (seemingly forgetting that his father and brother would hear).

But the one thing he was sure, was that he couldn’t allow you to disrespect his authority.

“If you hadn’t acted the way you did, perhaps I wouldn’t have done all of those things” he snapped back, his face now decorated with the most hateful scowl you’ve ever seen him bare. This sent a shock of fear down your spine, and tears began to form in the corners of your eyes.

You felt minimed, forgotten, brushed aside and virtually invisible.

But this moment was the only one you had to defend yourself, and you quickly composed yourself to retaliate his defamatory claims.

“My fault ?! Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently?!” You spat, a hot tear sliding down your cheek “You fucking prick, entitled b-bastard! N-None of this would’ve happened if you listened, none of this would’ve occurred if you —if you were an actual human being!” You sobbed as you landed the last shot intended to hurt him.

Your head began to pound and your sight was turning blurry. Your throat constricted as the pain of his abuse surfaced to levels you never thought obtainable.

Your voice was unwillingly higher than you wanted, further catching the attention of the surrounding crowd, but you didn’t care. You had to stand up for yourself, if only once in your life. “You’re a terrible, pathetic excuse of a man, and I much rather die than continue being in this sham of a marriage I never wanted to begin with!!”

It was undeniable that fate was written against you. You must’ve done something in your past life to deserve this punishment, or were you paying for the sins of your ancestors?

However, the Zen’in heir thinks your punishment is not sufficient.

Having had enough of your spoiled attitude, Naoya decides to take control of the situation.

“Fine ” Your husband seethes. "I might as well grant your wish" He forcefully grabs your arm and drags you to the exit, down to the street and back to the parking lot, away from the judging eyes of the visitors and their worried whispers asking each other if they should call the police or keep out of their business.

Throughout the whole way you were struggling and fighting against his hold. Your attempts were received by contempt on his part, his grasp tightening to the point where you cried he was hurting you. But it did not stop.

You still fought against him, but a man who has spent earnestly training his physique, as well as being taller than you, this feat was impossible.

Once at the parking lot, your yells began to echo through the building, and whoever was on the other floors believed they were in the midst of a banshee.

Nonetheless, your cries were cut short once Naoya opened the door to the passenger's backseat and threw you inside, the thud of your body against the seat caused him no concern as he rushed to the driver's seat and quickly ignited the engine, driving carelessly through the streets and to the estate.

The fear you had for your life exponentially grew by the second as you managed to recollect yourself and push your body up.

Your eyes eventually landed in the rear-view mirror, where the gaze of the devil looked back at you.

“If you think that was cruel, then you have no idea what I’m capable of”

I’ll show you what it is to fall out of my favor .

#naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin x you #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk naoya #series: first it hurts—

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todoscript · 3 years

Text

sweetest delight

SYNOPSIS: While Shouto’s out hunting down villains on Valentine’s Day, you try your hand at making some sweets to celebrate the occasion, and in doing so, find your efforts rewarded in more ways than one.

pairing: pro hero!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: smut. fluff. pro hero au.

word count: 7.3k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. apron kink. praising. oral (both receiving). face-sitting. 69. cum-eating.

author’s note: god, this is long overdue, but i finally got this thing out after all this time. and of course, it ended up getting out of hand again

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

A range of curses spewed from your mouth as the unpleasant smell of your burnt confections permeated the space of your kitchen, threatening to notify the fire alarm overhead of your latest baking mishap. Luckily, you entered the kitchen just in time to dissipate the smoke before it can do so, fanning your towel while navigating to the oven to find your crisp, blackened sweets already ruined inside. The corners of your lips slipped into a scowl at another failed batch of mini chocolate cupcakes at your hand. You slid on a pair of oven mitts to transfer the set off the rack and onto the kitchen counter.

A flicker of optimism in your head presented the thought that they didn’t seem that bad at first glance, going so far as to believe they might’ve tasted relatively fine and that the burnt parts simply added a bitter flavor that would balance the overall sweetness of the decadent chocolate cupcakes. But upon closer inspection, you knew you were lying to yourself.

Flipping the miniature cakes out of the molds, you discovered the sweets were encased in a dreary black outer shell, a sight which made you grimace, wondering how you screwed up so badly to have concocted such a dismal image. You definitely had no right feeding these to Shouto, let alone offer them to him as a Valentine’s Day gift.

As everyone knew, the fourteenth day of February marked Valentine’s Day, the day where couples expressed their love to one another by giving gifts, spending quality time through dates, and displaying many other forms of affection. This year, however, Shouto was called in at his agency to investigate a case of villains whose plan was to wreak havoc on this special occasion.

Now, any person would find it normal to be peeved over these circumstances—having their lover’s free time eaten up by work when they could be celebrating together with a nicely lit dinner or a casual, romantic night at home, and perhaps cap off a wonderful evening with a smooth transition into the bedroom. Much better than spending a day at home alone, pitifully watching couples intertwine their hands together in envy as they walked along the sidewalk beneath your apartment complex, right?

Well, you, on the other hand, were a different case. Rather than sulk around as you waited for Shouto to arrive home later, you decided this would be the perfect chance to whisk up some sweets to surprise him. After all, what’s Valentine’s Day without some chocolate delights on the side, made with vanilla, sugar, cocoa butter, and lots of love and effort. A perfect way to welcome Shouto home from his mission while honoring the festivities, you’d say.

Besides, you understood the situation well enough to recognize that the citizens’ well-being came first before any date of yours. Your boyfriend was a hero, after all, and a Pro at that. It’s not as if you and Shouto hadn’t celebrated Valentine’s Day together before. So long as he came home—intact—prior to the clock ticking to midnight, one day didn’t bother you.

Though… after witnessing the aftermath of several failed attempts at baking thus far, you started to wonder if it would’ve done you better not to get so involved, only to waste resources and pervade your kitchen with an acrid smell.

Still, despite the trials and tribulations, you were determined to come out on top. You tapped your index finger repeatedly against the surface of the marbled counter. “Did I mix up the baking times? Maybe I undermined the portion sizes so the cupcakes started cooking faster?” you speculated out loud, wondering how to troubleshoot the minor errors to come out successful in your next attempt.

After some thought, you decided not to dawdle on your overthinking for too long and shrugged off the idea of redoing another batch of cupcakes. “It’s fine, I’ll just move onto the chocolates then. They’re the star of Valentine’s Day so better to focus on those,” you told yourself. A grin found its way on your face as you rolled the sleeves of your blouse up your forearms. “Alright, let’s get to it then!”

You retrieved a recipe sheet from across the counter, scanning through the contents while overlooking the ingredients lying in front of you. Compared to baking cupcakes, chocolates should be easier to tackle since you weren’t entirely making them from scratch. All you had to do is temper the chocolate melts in a bowl over a heat source, pour them into silicone molds, and refrigerate until hardened and shaped to the perfect, bite-sized delight. Seemed simple enough.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as simple as you thought.

Or rather, you chose to make the whole process more complicated than it needed to be, not realizing the ambitious turn your take on these chocolates was moving toward until you drove yourself into another mess.

Your first trial of bonbons was sprawled out over parchment paper, waiting for your verdict. Eyes roaming the array of sweets tentatively, you absorbed the mixture of pink and white hues with an unsure look on your face. Somehow during the process, you opted to forgo the customary milk chocolates for white and strawberry, which was the closest you could get to matching Shouto’s signature hair colors.

You’d thought it’d be cute for the treats to have a slight resemblance to him as a simple yet sweet reminder that he was on your mind throughout your progress. But staring down at the final product, you wished you guessed ahead of time that the vision you sparked in your head was not going to be as bright and pretty in comparison to what came out.

You frowned at the batch with narrowed brows before begrudgingly scooping a piece and tossing it into your mouth. The sweetness of the strawberry and white chocolates coexisted together to form a smooth texture that left behind a creamy, floral undertone on your tongue. What was incredibly lacking, however, laid in the looks department. The visuals left… more to be desired, to say the least.

With the idea of wanting to use two different flavors of chocolate, you also played on the notion of incorporating a theme. That theme being half-and-half. And half-and-half being splitting the colors on the chocolates right down the middle.

Though not a complicated plan for an adept baker, it was the exact opposite for a newbie like you who had came up with the idea on the spot. With your chocolates appearing in odd shapes and sizes, not one seemed to resemble another, which was the result of both your lack of patience and miscalculations. You had to allow one of the flavors to harden in the mold before adding the other to not prematurely mix the colors, but judging by the swirls of pink and white surrounding the chocolates, that didn’t seem to go so well. Add on to the fact you had some trouble inverting them out of the silicon molds—the edges of the chocolates ending up smooshed or torn off entirely—and you were left with another failed attempt at a Valentine’s present.

“Guess making sweets isn’t really my thing, huh?” You sighed, body slumping forward against the kitchen counter in defeat. Your eyes wandered from your sad chocolates to the hefty amount of dirty dishes piled in the sink. All this, and you weren’t able to make anything worth giving to Shouto. What exactly were you going to tell him when he came home, bearing witness to this entire mess? No, Shouto was probably under enough stress and fatigue as it was after working all day. Plus, his anticipation for a gift would only be amplified if he saw the number of baking supplies you’ve wasted today. At this point, you had to turn in the towel.

“Oh well… I better clean everything up before Sho comes home and start on din–”

Your words were interrupted by the sharp sound of the front door opening.

“I’m home!” an all too familiar voice announced, one that you were more than aware belonged to a particular fire and ice hero.

Surprised, you glanced over at the clock to check the time, which read a bold 6:00 PM—sooner than you expected your boyfriend to arrive home from his duties that day. So soon, in fact, that you weren’t able to even begin erasing any of the evidence littered around the kitchen.

“Y/n?” you heard him call. Freezing in place, you picked up Shouto breathing in a quick whiff. “What’s that smell?” he asked but didn’t wait for a response, traveling through the enormous apartment to find that answer for himself. Hearing his feet shuffling across the hardwood floor, you moved quickly.

“The kitchen smells sweet but also... bitter.”

Sweet and bitter..? you repeated but soon realized what he meant—those damn burnt chocolate cupcakes you left out. While in your rush with making the chocolates, you had forgotten to dispose of them beforehand. Though the bitter smell was not as prominent as when the cupcakes first came out of the oven, it still didn’t evade Shouto’s keen senses.

After shoving the burnt mini cupcakes in a trash bin, you scrambled to the entrance to the kitchen, thankfully cutting Shouto’s path off just in time as you met him there. “Oh hey, Sho, why didn't expect you to come home so early!” you greeted, a cheerful lilt in your tone as you leaned an arm on the side of the doorway, hoping to come off ordinarily chill to avoid any questioning looks. It seemed you achieved that much at least by how Shouto smiled warmly at your appearance.

“You should’ve shot me a quick text or something.”

“Sorry, we managed to track down the group of villains right away and finished the mission smoothly without any casualties,” he explained. “I guess I was in such a hurry to come home and celebrate Valentine’s Day with you that I must’ve forgotten.” The soft look on Shouto’s handsome features had you in a daze for a second; you nearly missed him descending his head to your level so his lips could find yours. Eventually, you broke from your stupor and swiftly turned your head so he planted a peck on your cheek instead.

You were never one to purposely avoid a kiss on the lips like that from him—far from it actually��but you didn’t want him to find any residual sweetness on your lips from the confections you taste-tested that day and have him bring up if you made anything for him. One thing you surely couldn’t avoid, however, was his puzzled face at your uncharacteristic actions. Still, Shouto wasn’t one to overthink the details. Instead, he decided to look at the bigger picture, such as the dirty yet cute, pink and brown frilly apron tied around your body.

“Your apron’s a mess,” he chuckled lightly. The comment caught you off-guard, eyes slowly traveling down to the flour and chocolate stains on your Valentine’s-themed apron. “Have you been cooking?” he asked. You fumbled with your answer.

“O-Oh yeah..! In fact, I’m… still cooking, actually!” you quickly added, making up for your lack of words. “C’mon, it’s probably been a long day for you. You should go freshen up in the shower while I get everything done and cleaned!” You tried shoo-ing Shouto from the kitchen’s vicinity, but he didn’t budge.

“I can help out if you like. I wouldn’t want you to fix everything up by yourself, especially since we’re supposed to spend the rest of Valentine’s Day together,” he said, and as much as you liked to take him up on his kind and thoughtful offer, you had to object.

Firmly shaking your head, you continued your attempts at pushing Shouto to retreat to the shower and scrub off the troubles of his day. “No, you’ve probably done enough work today as it is! Just let me handle the rest, ‘kay?” you insisted, straining a smile. However, your hurried shoving felt almost too persistent than what Shouto found normal.

“Well, what are you making then–” As he tilted his head up to sneak a peek, you followed his movements, elevating yourself onto your tiptoes to block his vision in time.

“S-Soba noodles..! Cold! Just how you like them,” you answered after partially interrupting him. Quirking a brow at your fidgety gestures, Shouto stared at the smile etched on your lips which screamed of suspicion. Now he was sure something was up.

“Love,” he said, his voice a tone lower than usual that made goosebumps appear on your skin, staring at his turquoise and gray eyes warily, “are you hiding something from me?”

“What? Psh, no,” you feigned innocence, shrugging, “Why would you think that?”

Shouto gave you a look, silently telling you that you should more than know the reason why, but you chose to remain ignorant. No point in questioning it any further then. He would have to pry the answer out himself.

Aware that you had no intention of letting him pass voluntarily, Shouto began putting his hero training to use. He side-stepped in a single motion, quickly pivoting on the balls of his feet to slip through your defenses. You didn’t have time to ask yourself what happened before you turned around to watch his reaction to what you left for him on the kitchen counter.

Upon entering the kitchen, Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes were immediately drawn to the marbled white-and-pink sweets sprawled across the parchment paper. His interest piqued, he walked straight to the chocolates with you trailing behind. You could feel the heat in your cheeks slowly rise from the embarrassment at seeing Shouto inspect your sorry excuse of chocolates.

“Hm, no soba noodles, but I may have found something even better,” he said, and you wondered if you heard correctly or that maybe he saw something you didn’t. You rapidly blinked about four times, letting your vision adjust, and yet your chocolates remained.

“You’re kidding… right?”

Shouto lifted a brow at your hesitance. “No, why would I be kidding?” he replied thoughtfully. He took one of the chocolates off the parchment paper, raising it in the air between his thumb and index finger. “You made these for me, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, they were supposed to be a Valentine’s Day gift, but…”

“But..?” A frown settled on his lips, watching you nervously twiddle your thumbs while you held your hands against your apron. “Y/n, you can tell me.” Not liking how you weren’t meeting his eyes, his finger drew your chin up so he could get a better glimpse of your face.

“But they don’t look the part. They’re hideous,” you quietly admitted, your words mellowing into a whisper the more they departed your lips. The way he treated your creations as if they belonged on a pedestal didn’t sit right in your eyes. “So I... didn’t want you to see them, or any of this actually. I thought if you saw what I was doing, you’d get your hopes up for something special, only to be disappointed.” You tried avoiding his gaze again, but Shouto wouldn’t allow it, following your eyes as his hand pried yours apart to take one in his own.

His focus shifted from the pink and white chocolate held in front of him to the uncertainty clouding your expression. “I’m not sure what you mean. They look fine to me.”

“Sho, you don’t have to lie to me just so you don’t end up hurting my feelings. Anyone can see how uneven they look,” you said, pointing at the rest of the batch still sitting on the counter behind him. There was a low chuckle coming from the male’s lips, one that you guessed was out of amusement, but you were too caught in your troubled feelings to be sure.

“Well, I have to admit, they don’t exactly resemble the perfect, visual representation of the chocolates you’d find at the store or anything,” he acknowledged with you mumbling an ‘I told you so’ in response before he continued, “but that’s the reason why I like them. That means you made them for me and there isn’t any chocolate like it. They’re one of a kind.”

His genuine words took you aback, eyes glimmering and cheeks flushed. You were too wrapped up in your need for perfection that you didn’t realize you could consider your efforts that way.

“Besides,” he threw the little bonbon in his mouth, “they taste great,” he said as the strawberry and white cream melted on his tongue with its rich sweetness.

Despite his praise, you thought he had only said that because you knew for a fact that the chocolates did at least pass in the taste department. “But what if they had tasted bad too? What would you have said then?” You were bold enough to question, though half-worried about his answer in the back of your head—worried that he would have to take back those sweet words of his.

“I still would have eaten them, regardless. I’d never waste anything you’ve made for me, you should know that. To me, these chocolates are the sweetest delight not because they’re the best looking or tasting, but because they came from you,” he answered earnestly, bending down to tuck a hair away from your stunned yet grateful appearance which looked as if you were nearly about to sigh out loud in relief. You brought your body into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin, and he wrapped his arms around you, lips pressed against your hair.

Shouto didn’t grant you much time to bask in your solace however, before beckoning you over to the kitchen counter. He wasn’t done teasing you just yet.

“Normally couples give each other milk chocolates on Valentine’s day. Any reason you decided on white and strawberry then?” Shouto noted, a grin on his lips as you seemed reluctant to reveal your reasoning—lips pursed and fingers playing with the hem of your apron.

“Well, they’re supposed to be your…” You finished by motioning at the crown of your head before pointing to his red and white locks.

Heh... Cute. The grin that was persistent on his features widened, and your response earned you a kiss on the cheek. “Thinking about me, huh?” he teased. You were more than aware of your intentions throughout your chocolate-making process, but it didn’t make the whole situation any less embarrassing when your motives came to light out of Shouto’s own mouth.

You pouted profusely, turning your face in the other direction as you nudged his arm. “Aren’t you going to eat the rest then?” you asked despite your demure demeanor. You couldn’t see it, but you were positive he was aiming that amused expression in your direction, leaning his head on his palm while his elbow was leveled on the counter.

“You made a lot of chocolates today, love. You don’t expect me to finish them all by myself, do you?” You heard the rustle of the parchment liner unsticking to something behind you. Then a finger poked your cheek, and out of curiosity, you followed where the disturbance came from, only to have a swirl of pink and white pushed past your lips.

“Mm..” you hummed surprisingly in delight at the harmonious strawberry and cream flavors coating your tastebuds.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got to taste them before you arrived home.” You rubbed the back of your head. “And um, I didn’t exactly make these from scratch...” You went about divulging your methods to him, explaining your usage of chocolate melts, which all in all saved you a lot of time, considering your earlier mishaps with the brownies—a misfortune you also confessed to as you side-eyed the trash bin.

The dual-haired male laughed with mirth at the disasters you tangled yourself into today. “Seemed like you had an eventful Valentine’s Day at home without me.”

He scanned over your outfit, consisting of a simple buttoned blouse and a pair of jeans. What caught his eye the most was the frilly, laced brown and pink apron tied around your body. You must have bought this specifically to get in the spirit of Valentine’s Day because this was the first he’s seen you in this. Normally you’d wear those plain cotton aprons while you were cooking. Not something so charming and—dare he say—refreshing.

As you were continuing the conversation—going on about how vanquishing criminal organizations was more productive than whatever you were concocting at home—your words faded into the background. Shouto found it hard to focus on what you were saying, while your animated gestures seemed to enhance the shape of the apron against your body, emphasizing your physique.

Recalling the story you just mentioned, he imagined what the scene of you frantically dashing around the kitchen would look like as you wore this cute thing. Was it weird of him to hold fantasies of arriving home, being greeted by your endearing self donning this garment, dolled in its intricacies with a smile gracing the lips he oh so wanted to kiss every day?

Shouto would think so. He’s never heard of any anecdotes of this kind of behavior before. Perhaps it was how dainty and frilly the material appeared against your figure that stemmed such a risqué thought from him. If that was the case, then this apron was no different than lingerie. Or more specifically, those delicate lace babydolls you’d wear for him on those special occasions, in which you displayed the zenith of lust and vulnerability that rendered him a man ensnared by his need to utterly ravage you–

Fuck. Letting those imaginations cross his mind was a dangerous move. He felt himself getting hard, body exercising the willpower not to pounce and concede to his fantasies. Then again, no one could really blame him for thinking of his girlfriend this way on Valentine’s Day. Especially when you looked so damn cute right now that he could just eat you up.

“Shouto?” Your voice diverted his attention from the growing problem in his pants, though only for a moment. When his focus returned to you, all those lascivious thoughts buried in the back of his head made their way to the forefront again. Damn, did he have it bad.

“Is something wrong? You were zoning out for a bit.”

He shook his head, dispelling your concern. However, it was going to take more than that to sweep away the lust consuming his mind. “It’s nothing. More importantly, why don’t we continue tasting these chocolates?” Pulling up a stool, he took a seat next to the kitchen counter.

Just as you were going to mention that you needed to start on dinner soon, Shouto suddenly drew your body in between his parted legs. Thrown slightly off-balance, you instinctively held onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

You couldn’t help but notice the hand traveling up your legs as it situated itself on the back of your thigh, but the detail was abandoned as soon as it was manifested. The proximity between you two was too much not to overlook now. Shouto peered up at you with what you made out to be smoldering intensity, and the sight reduced you to shying away from his eyes again.

Of course, Shouto didn’t take a liking to that. With you so close, he didn’t want anything hindering his front seat viewing of your candid reactions. “Baby, look here,” he called to you. You followed his command, turning back to face the grin reaching his lips. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You attempted to open your mouth to reply but found another ball of marbled chocolate placed where words should’ve been.

Soft lips wrapped around him, Shouto had to fight back the urge to groan, feeling your tongue graze the pad of his thumb as he fed you the candy. His other hand, formerly occupied with rubbing subtle circles on your clothed flesh, wandered to the satin ribbon of your apron fashioned behind you.

It wasn’t long until you discerned the game he was playing through the fiery looks and frisky touching.

Well, enter player two.

You brought a hand to his wrist, keeping him there as your tongue made work at licking away the residual chocolate melted on his finger. You moved from his thumb to his index finger, noting not to miss anything with every flick as you confidently returned the heady expression with batted eyelashes.

Shouto breathed in silently through his nose, gritting his teeth, your sultry actions having an innate effect on him, to which you smirked at. There was a slight tug on the ribbon wrapped behind you. It wasn’t firm enough to where the knot came undone, but enough that you noticed his fixation on the material. If he was making an effort to exert some self-control, it was futile at this point. No doubt, he was going to take you before Valentine’s Day was over.

“Hmm, you’re right, these chocolates are pretty tasty. But it’s probably because you’re the one feeding them to me that they taste just soooo good,” you mused, adding a sensual tonality to your voice as you concluded your words with one last kitten lick.

The man before you bit the inside of his cheek, your voice alone making blood rush south. You little minx. He was going to make doubly sure you understood just what you were doing to him.

Finally releasing his hand, you reached over beside you to grab a chocolate off the parchment paper. “For you~” You giggled as you led the confection to Shouto’s mouth. He readily accepted your gift, lips wrapping around the tips of your fingers as the mellow flavors soothed his taste buds. He made a point of re-enacting your little show, tongue languidly lapping your fingers while he maintained steady eye contact. You shuddered at the wet warmth abiding your skin, the suffocating sexual tension in the air causing you to press your thighs together. The action was not overlooked by Shouto, who smiled amidst cleaning your fingers with every brush of his tongue.

“What’s wrong, love? You were so bold and talkative earlier. Cat got your tongue or something?” he teased. A smirk ran across the curl of his lips as his licks turned to kisses he planted on the back of your hand.

After finishing his task of lapping up every essence of sweetness off your skin, he lifted himself from the stool. Doing so made him stand tall over you, and he easily cornered you to where your back met the edge of the counter. Your wrist captured in one of his hands, he wove an arm around you, pulling your body into him.

“You know, there’s something I want to eat right now other than chocolates,” he confessed, forehead pressed to yours and glinted heterochromatic eyes latent with an insatiable hunger. The baritone of his voice sent shivers through your body and a throb aching in your core.

You innocently tilted your head at him. “Oh, is that so? And what would that be?”

He chuckled darkly at your redundant question.

“Why you of course, my love.”

The moment the words reached your ears, he lunged forward to seize your lips. You quickly followed in the sensual movements of his soft lips against yours like it was a practiced routine, not resisting his tongue prying its way into your mouth and submitting to the dance that made pleasure course through your veins.

A single tap on your thigh was your cue to hop into Shouto’s waiting grasp and wrap your arms around his neck. You pulled your bodies closer to where the few layers of clothing you both possessed did nothing to hide your enthusiasm for each other. You could feel your nipples under your bra stiffen at your arousal, growing more sensitive as you pressed your chest to him. Meanwhile, his hard erection shamelessly poked the inside of your thigh to which his grip was poised on remaining firm, grinding your lower half against him.

You expected this was where he intended to have you—right then and there in the middle of the kitchen—but to your surprise, Shouto had other plans. He navigated you two to the dining table as you continued feverishly making out with your legs wrapped around his waist. Never breaking the hot mingle of your lips, he carefully placed you on the edge. His hands were free to roam the expanse of your body, palming at places that elicited airy moans from you as he inscribed the niceties of your bonny apron into his memory. Though he cursed the unnecessary layers that obscured your beautiful flesh from him.

Finding the clothes still on you equally unbearable in the heat of your movements, you were on the same wavelength as him. You sought out the satin ribbon tied behind your back that kept the apron on your form, but before your fingertips could even reach the material to tug the knot loose, Shouto seized your wrists and led your hands away. Your face was scrunched with bewilderment by how sudden his actions were.

Shouto didn’t think he could have a fetish over something as ordinary and domestic as a decorative garment tied around your waist, but this Valentine’s Day was proving him otherwise. He was not about to pass an opportunity to absolutely ruin you in this pretty thing.

“Keep it on,” he ordered, voice deep and commanding.

“H-Huh? What about my clothes?” you stuttered, confused at first. You wanted to ask what spurred him to give such a demand, but you were too caught in the moment to think of objecting to his request (not that you had much choice anyway).

“Let me.” That was all he said before his hands sought after the waistband of your jeans and the buttons of your top. He pulled and undid the apparel until you were left in only your panties and that lovely apron. Your bra was quickly disposed of to the pile next to his feet thanks to the clip being located at the front this time, and he was eternally grateful for the convenience. You didn’t even have to mention anything for his own clothes to float above yours on the floor, sitting back on the table to admire his toned physique, now free for you to ogle in just his briefs.

His hooded, icy eyes concentrated on every aspect of your appearance. He didn’t dare miss a single detail in front of him—from your bare, flushed skin glowing beneath the light fixture to your aroused nipples shaped through the thin fabric. You were a sight Shouto would gladly worship for the rest of his life.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my love, and I’m going to enjoy ravaging you until all you know is my name.”

His words alone were enough to send a tingle of anticipation to your cunt. You did not shrink at his assertiveness, instead embracing both yours and Shouto’s desires with open arms.

“You have me, Sho. I’m all yours.”

The man released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding before inhaling and diving in. Your lips reencountered each other, continuing from where you left off with his tongue chasing after you. You laced your fingers in his soft hair to press him deeper to you as Shouto navigated down your neck. He sucked and licked at your skin; every tug he felt on his scalp compelled him to lay marks as he inched closer and closer to your breasts.

“Ahh.. Sho…” you mewled, feeling his hands grope one of your mounds and tease your slit through your panties. With no intention of letting this apron off your body, Shouto pushed the fabric concealing your chest inward to reveal a perky nipple, seeming excited to be covered by his mouth. Well, who was he to deny such exuberance, especially when he himself was hungry to taste?

Lips enclosing the stiffened nub, Shouto sucked and prodded with fervor. As you squirmed and squealed beneath him, your fingers pulled harder at his strands which he hummed in content at. The tip of his tongue circled your areola, making the slick clinging to your panties damper at the stimulation. The hand occupied between your thighs stroked you against the fabric before pulling it to the side to touch you directly.

“Oh fuck!” you cursed at the contact as Shouto did not hesitate to start pumping a finger into your pussy.

“Damn, you’re so wet down here. Did my kisses and teasing do all this?”

You were too distracted by the precise movements of his fingers working through you to answer, words superseded by your wanton moans. “Keep making those pretty sounds, love. I want you to cry out as I’m ruining you.”

Your noises hit a crescendo when his fingers began curling inside you, stretching into places that lit stars behind your eyes. His thumb rubbed your clit to intensify the fire building in your abdomen. Your back arched on the table as you grabbed onto Shouto’s free hand for dear life, already feeling that flame ready to ignite.

“Sho– Wait, I’m gonna–”

“Don’t hesitate, sweetheart. Coat my fingers with your cum,” he told you, increasing the speed of his thumb against your bundle of nerves as he continually hit that euphoric soft spot.

At his words, your pussy clenched hard around him, practically sucking him in. You threw your head back against the table, releasing a loud cry of his name as your orgasm engulfed your whole body with electrifying pleasure. Chest heaving up and down, your breaths sounded ragged as your vision went white before slowly adjusting to the light.

Shouto slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking at the layer of gloss. He observed your fucked-out state from above and admired his handiwork—your lips swollen, eyes glassy, and sweaty skin adorned with his marks.

“You taste absolutely delicious, you know,” he said almost too sweetly, like he had immediately gotten drunk off drinking the remnants of your orgasm. And, of course, he had to let you know how delectable you were. Shouto provided you a sample by pressing his fingers to your lips. You obediently parted them, welcoming your essence on your tongue.

“Don’t you think so?”

You hummed and nodded in agreement. Shouto grinned, bending down to mix your flavor in each other’s mouths. He finally removed your ruined panties and slid them down your legs. But to no one’s surprise, the apron stayed on your person.

When you parted, Shouto gestured for you to get up from the table. In doing so, you had anticipated this would be the time to head straight to the bedroom, but the night continued to prove you wrong. Shouto was still famished.

“Stand up for a second, baby. I want to lay down as I have my meal.” You didn’t need to guess to know just what he wanted to satiate his appetite tonight.

Shouto laid himself flat across the table, the majority of his legs dangling off the edge. You, on the other hand, were apprehensive at his approach, cautiously wondering if your modest dining table could handle the rampant motions of two adult bodies on top of it at once. Should the legs give way and the table collapses, the gravity of your descent would put all your weight onto him. What if you hurt him as a result?

“Love, what’s the holdup?” your boyfriend called, breaking your train of thought, “Come, your throne awaits.” He patted his chest—a rather peculiar place to sit but your cunt pulsed at the image of you riding that gorgeous face of his.

“O-Okay, I’m just afraid of hurting you, is all,” you said, pulling at the hem of your apron for security.

He raised his upper body halfway to see the hesitance painted on your features. “Y/n, there’s no need to worry, I wouldn’t have thought of doing this if I couldn’t handle it,” he assured, his hand reaching out for you. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You stared at the hand hovering in front of you and then at Shouto’s eyes glimmering with faith, and you knew you could trust his word. So you take his hand, climbing onto the table and over his body where you straddled his chest.

“Dining tables are meant to be eaten on, right? Well, I intend to devour you until your legs are shaking beside me, sweetheart,” he promised. He stroked up and down your thighs tauntingly. Your breaths hitched as he maneuvered you above his face, moving the flap of your apron so you could feel his cold breath against your lower lips.

“As much as I appreciate all those confections you made for me, they all pale in comparison to the sweetest delight here–” He uttered praises to your core while rubbing the soft flesh of your thighs. “This pretty, soft, and dripping pussy.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at his lewd words and how close in proximity he was to your twitching center. The one thing you detested about this apron at this moment was the fact it blocked you from what Shouto was doing, the bottom half lying right above his face. To him, however, it made everything all the more entertaining.

Despite being the one trapped under you, it must have felt like you were more in the dark than he was. After all, he was the one asserting dominance in this situation, and with a layer of fabric hiding his face, you had no idea how or when he was going to eat you out. His deafening silence was not offering you one bit of reassurance either. If he truly intended to devour you atop this table, he should just do it already.

“...Sho? Are you—Ah!” Upon questioning him, your words were choked by your surprised squeal, feeling him delicately kiss your folds with chilly lips attached to your warm pussy. You opened your mouth to speak again, yet you struggled to search for words as Shouto’s tongue flattened against you, licking a long strip before latching onto your sensitive pearl. The more he relentlessly sucked and teased, the more you sang out with waves of pleasure quivering through your body.

Hearing your beautiful noises, he chuckled, tongue vibrating on your clit. Every sound you produced made his cock stutter, still leaking and begging for attention beneath his briefs.

Not liking how inactive you were—simply sitting on his face and waiting for yourself to come undone on his tongue—you reached behind yourself to trail your hand down his abdomen. His body tensed, abs immediately flexing at your soft touch. You noticed his ministrations falter in their rhythm.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” he questioned, pulling himself off of you to concentrate on your hand running along the waistband of his briefs. His fingers dug into your flesh as you found his length, tentatively giving it a pump that gave birth to a strained noise below the flap of your apron.

“You’ve been doing all the work so far, Sho. I just want you to enjoy yourself,” you said. His eyebrows were scrunched, hissing through his teeth at your thumb grazing his slit, mixing his precum around the tip.

“I am enjoying myself—this is all I could ever ask for,” he replied honestly. He lifted the frilly material off his face so you could discover your slick running down his lips and neck, the blush spread across his fair cheeks an more than sufficient indication that he derived nothing but delight from being in this position. He looked like an absolute mess, yet the debauched sight made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“But if you want to join in, I won’t stop you.”

At that, Shouto detached himself from your sweetness for just a second to quickly reposition you above him. You were adjusted to where you were practically on all fours on the table now, facing the prominent bulge raised on his briefs while your fluttering cunt was somehow even more obscenely split in front of him. You were thankful the piece of furniture stayed intact throughout the motions, pleasantly astounded by its strength. However, you couldn’t pause to be impressed by this detail for long. Not when Shouto’s aching erection pleaded for you to continue touching it.

Your hand returned to its original place—wrapped around his heavy length that wept with precum coating the surface of its mushroom top. As you stroked it up and down in a consistent rhythm, you altered your grip to tighten more around him.

“Ooh yeah, that’s it, baby. Just like that… Ahhhh, fuckkkk—” You were rewarded by his praises and groans at the splendid pressure surrounding his dick. It encouraged you to keep up your pace and add another hand to the fray to increase the tension.

“You’re doing so well, making me feel so fucking good, love. Can you add your mouth for me now?” he requested, and you happily complied. Your tongue flattened against his cock, noting every vein and twitch running across your wet muscle that reduced Shouto to muttering obscenities behind you. Reaching the top, you swirled your tongue along the tip before taking the entire head into your warm cavern. Shouto’s thighs flexed, body almost trembling at how heavenly you made him feel. He couldn’t be outdone.

You let out a whine on his cock, feeling his mouth working against you again. This time you felt the effects stronger than before as Shouto spread your pussy lips to grant him better access to tongue fuck you. He stimulated every sensitive area with practiced ease, making sure to flick your clit with extra vigor to achieve the best results. You delivered in your reactions—legs shaking and knees slowly and deliberately being reduced to jelly.

Even ensnared in ecstasy, you did your best to adapt to his intensity, engulfing him more into your mouth. Your hands worked together to maximize the most pleasure you could give him, fondling his balls and gripping the base of his cock.

The lewdest of sounds filled the room in an unrelenting symphony. From your muffled whimpers to your pussy squelching in the presence of Shouto’s mouth purring against you, there was no shortage of bliss evident in the atmosphere. Hearing yourselves in the throes of rapture as you devoured each other’s whole beings like starved animals, you two were simultaneously climbing toward your highs.

“Shit, keep doing just that baby, and I’m going to paint that pretty mouth of yours white,” he warned half-heartedly. You purred, the enthusiasm laced your tone informing Shouto you wanted him to do just that. He was pleased by your response.

“You want it, don’t you, you slutty girl? Well, I expect you to drown me in your honey while I cover your throat with my cum then.” Those were the last words he spared you before proceeding to manifest them into reality. His hands dug themselves in the flesh below your ass cheeks, exposing your pussy to his appendage that swiped away at your clit until shockwaves made you tremble above him.

You were the first to come undone, juices running down your thighs and boyfriend’s chin. Your cries were muffled amidst Shouto’s dick caught down your throat, tightening around his length, which surged with spurts of white all over your mouth. You swallowed every single drop of his seed, wiping at the excess on your lips as you released the hero’s cock with a loud pop.

After taking a moment to catch your breaths, you carefully moved off of each other. Shouto steadied you on his lap, letting you straddle him as he sat on the edge of the table. He intertwined your fingers through his and brought them to his lips to place a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Shouto. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #mha smut #bnha fic #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki imagine #mha x reader

1K notes · View notes

onceupon · 3 years

Text

London Boy

summary: Y/n finds herself all the way across the pond, trying to escape OBX. But much to her surprise, a certain someone might get in the way.

pairing: Rafe x reader (just an intro in this part, we’ll get there dw)

warnings: swearing, drinking, some mentions of anxiety?

word count: 3.2k

a/n: if you’re a sucker for a slow burn like me, buckle up and enjoy the ride. I plan on this being multiple parts and this is also my first time posting so please be gentle with me lol :’-) (not canon Rafe)

You huffed as you dragged your extra large and definitely overweight luggage down to the pickup area at Heathrow airport. You had just landed in London where you’d be going to school until the holidays. You had decided to apply for, and actually got accepted into, your high school’s British exchange program. Every year Kildare Academy gave the option for 15 seniors to study for half the school year at Westheath Academy in London, a private boarding school, while 15 kids from their school came to yours. Normally, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving your friends and family for that long, not to mention missing out on half of senior year at home. But ever since the drama that erupted during the summer after your junior year that ended with you being shunned by your “friend group” (where they really ever your friends to begin with?), you practically jumped at the opportunity to get as far away from the Outer Banks as possible, albeit for a little while.

You didn’t know at all what to expect at Westheath, you had skipped the predeparture orientation at Kildare a few weeks ago, but you didn’t care - didn’t care who was going or what Westheath was like, all that mattered was that for the next few months you could finally breath. It was the clean slate you desperately needed, a chance to finally be around people and places you hadn’t known since birth. Sure there were going to be 14 other kids from Kildare there as well, but you had zero intentions of sticking with your OBX peers over the next few months. You weren’t going to let your small town suffocate you for a second longer if you could help it.

You double checked the license plate on your phone screen as the Uber you ordered pulled up.

“Y/N?” the driver called out from the front-right window (god that was going to take some getting used to.)

“Yep!” you smiled, huffing as you tried to pick up your luggage and step off the curb. Thankfully the uber driver was quick to your rescue, effortlessly lifting your suitcase into the trunk of the car. Leave it to you to overpack without even thinking to leave room for all of the clothes and souvenirs you were certain to accumulate - oh well, an excuse for a new suitcase you supposed.

Not in the mood for small talk, you were relieved that the Uber driver silently read your mind, playing a pop station as you both respectfully ignored each other’s presence. You anxiously tapped your thumb on your phone, eyes flicking between the screen where you watched your route progress and the view out your window of townhomes, pubs, and countless strangers passing by.

You hadn’t felt anxious about leaving for London the entire first half of junior year, so why was your stomach and head simultaneously churning now? You were so excited to experience a version of life that was the opposite of everything you were trying to get away from - a version of life that involved British accents, buzzing city life, and endless possibilities. But it was all of a sudden dawning on you how unfamiliar it all was. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, no matter how far you ran, you would never be able to fully separate yourself from OBX. That damned small beach-town would always be a part of you, an inextricable thread in the fabric of your life.

The Uber pulled up to a halt in front of your destination. You hesitantly glanced out your window as you double checked the silver number on the building. Yep, 25 Brampton Rd - you were here. The Uber driver graciously lifted your suitcase out of the trunk for you and as he pulled away you let out a long breath - your fresh start was waiting behind the doors in front of you.

You rang the doorbell to the lobby, the security here no joke. You were soon buzzed into the building and you shakily pulled your suitcase in behind you, desperately trying to calm your nerves to no avail.

“Hi,” you croaked out as you approached the man seated at the front desk. “I’m- uhh here to check in to my apartment- uh I mean flat… I think… I’m with the Kildare Academy exchange,” you rambled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Despite your best efforts, your anxiety was taking over.

The man gave you a sympathetic smile. “Name please?”

“Y/n L/n,” you replied, pulling your lips into a sheepish straight-lined smile as you mindlessly tapped your fingers on the handle of your suit case.

“L/n, L/n, L/n,” the man quietly muttered under his breath as his pen traced over a list of names. “Ahh here you are. Alright Miss L/n, here is a fob, this lets you into the building, now this key lets you into your flat, you’ll be on the second floor - apartment 2C, and this key is for your individual room,” he began to fire off at you as he rounded the desk and came to grab your suitcase, beginning to walk as you hastily followed suit. “This packet will tell you everything you need to know about our building here - wifi, laundry, trash days,” he shoved some papers in your hand as you both entered the elevator, him pressing the button for the second floor.

You emerged on to your floor and a few steps later you two were at the door of your new home, which the man quickly unlocked gesturing for you to step inside. “And this, Miss L/n, is your flat for the next few months with us here at Westheath. Your room is the second right down the hall there and I believe you’re the first here. Two of your flatmates who are yet to check in are from Kildare, such as yourself, and the other two are students of our own here at Westheath. You know I’m surprised how early you are, classes don’t start until next week! But nevertheless I’ll let you get settled,” you stood staring blankly at your new surroundings, more or less registering the words this man was firing off at you.

“I’m Richard by the way, if you ever need anything you know where to find me,” the man extended his hand toward you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting his handshake.

“Welcome to Westheath,” he smiled back and just as quickly was turning on his heel and back out the door before you could get in another word, leaving you in your new flat by yourself.

You slowly walked through the empty place, meandering through the kitchen and living area, down the hall, peaking into the bathroom, and then finding your way to your room. It certainly wasn’t the type of living arrangement you were used to back home - your family lived on Figure 8 in the Outer Banks meaning you had grown up surrounded by mansions and luxuries. This place was small, simple, and yet it was cozy and well… perfect. It was the exact opposite of your Figure 8 life and that alone was enough to make you love it. You smiled, content, as you sank on to your empty bed, taking in your new room. You had a nice sized desk, a decent shelf, and a wardrobe. Simple and sufficient. You could get used to this. The room was starkly barren, but since school wasn’t set to start for another week and no one was here yet you made a mental note to go on a little mission to find some plants and decorations to bring the white box that was your room a bit more to life.

——-

Three days had passed and still your other flat mates had yet to show. You were starting to wonder if they ever would or if you’d end up living in this flat all by yourself. Your room was now decorated, you had found some cute posters in a shop you had wandered into, some plants in another, and string lights in a third. You had acquainted yourself with the grocery store around the corner and the drug store down the street and you’d even gone on the tube all by yourself.

Being on your own these last few days had been decidedly therapeutic, leaving you unable to contain a cheesy grin every time it hit you that you were actually here, in London, far far away from OBX. But you couldn’t help feeling a little lonely, with a passing hello to Richard every time you left and returned to the building being your main source of human interaction these last few days.

You laid on your bed as you debated the decision you were about to make - you would’ve never dared to use Tinder back home. You knew virtually everyone on the island and would’ve been absolutely mortified to match with anybody there. But hey - you were in London baby! This was a fresh start and nothing was off limits. You sighed and gave in, downloading the app and quickly making a profile. You must’ve rearranged the order of your pictures at least a dozen times before you finally decided it was good enough. You started to swipe, an endless supply of British boys at your finger tips. You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at how funny the whole concept was, your inbox already flooding with cheesy pick up lines from your matches. You spent the next hour going back and forth with these boys, silly, meaningless, flirty conversations - god it was so much easier being a flirt through a screen, you would be positively flushed in the face in person, unless you were drunk of course (your drunk self was a dangerously confident flirt for sure).

Liam: are you free tonight? Down to grab a drink and chat?

Oh wow. Straight to the point wasn’t he. You knew the point of the app was to eventually get off it and meet up with someone, but now that you were met with the opportunity, your stomach was flipping upside down. Fuck it, what do you have to lose?

Y/n: yeah that sounds great, I’m in Hammersmith if you wanted to go somewhere there?

Liam: perfect so am I (: 8pm at The Ladle. See you there xx

Pure adrenaline coursed through your body as you started doing your hair and makeup, throwing clothes all around your small room to find the perfect outfit that was cute but simultaneously made it seem like you weren’t trying too hard. You threw your wallet and keys in your purse, chugged the glass of wine you had been casually sipping on by yourself, and quickly headed out the door before you could overthink it and change your mind.

——

You nervously approached the bar that Google Maps had directed to you, not sure what you were getting yourself into, but you had already walked all the way here so you’d be damned if you didn’t see it through.

“Y/n?” a voice called out to you. God, hearing your name in that accent sent shivers down your spine.

“Yeah that’s me, Liam?” you questioned back, staring up at the fluffy browned-hair boy approaching you.

“That’s me,” he winked, extending his arm out to you which you nervously grabbed, as he led you into The Ladle, spotting an empty table for the two of you.

“So Y/n, what are you doing here in London. Something tells me you’re not from here?”the boy across from you smiled as you two got settled in your seats.

“Hmmm I wonder what could’ve ever given it away,” you replied with a sarcastic smile, American accent in full force. “But I’m here for school, on an exchange at Westheath Academy.”

“Oh shit, that means we’ll see each other around. I’m finishing up my last year actually. And somehow you’re the first American I’ve had the pleasure of being on a date with,” he smiled with a devilish grin that felt like it was burning into you, you hoping the flush on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious with the dim lighting.

“Lucky me,” you smiled back, faking a sly confidence as best you could despite the fact that you were all nerves on the inside. Dating was not something you were familiar with, having maybe gone on two back home, if those even counted.

“First round on me, what are you drinking tonight Y/n?”

“Umm a vodka cran is fine,” you replied to which you were immediately met with a scoff.

“No way babe, you’re in a pub in England now. Should’ve figured as much coming from an American like you,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, his fluffy hair bouncing with it. “I’m getting you a pint,” he asserted, walking over to the bar and giving you a moment to breath and collect yourself. You hated beer but weren’t about to put up a fight, at this point you would down just about any alcohol in order to get some more liquid courage in your system.

He quickly returned, placing the tall glass of golden-colored liquid in front of you.

“Cheers, to new school mates,” he winked extending his glass up to yours.

“To new school mates,” you smiled back, bringing your glass to clink with his, taking a long swig and trying not to grimace at the taste of the liquid going down your throat.

——

The night passed by quickly, you and Liam going through three rounds of drinks as you both laughed and bantered with one another, your nerves all but dissipated by the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream. Heck, the beer was even starting to taste… good? God you barely recognized yourself anymore, but in the best possible way. One by one you were letting the closely guarded walls you had built up over the years in OBX fall, and you were feeling better than ever before - you felt free.

You and Liam stumbled back arms linked to the building you found out you were both living in, Liam on the fourth floor. You rummaged for the fob in your purse and you both got on the elevator, Liam instinctively pressing both your floor numbers. The elevator dinged opening to your floor, Liam turning to you with a cheeky smile.

“See you around, Y/n,” he winked. Why did you find that so attractive, or maybe it’s just because you were slightly drunk.

“Goodnight Liam,” you smirked back, blowing him a kiss as you walked out the elevator, the doors closing behind you.

You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot as you unlocked your flat and stumbled into your room, immediately collapsing on your bed. London. It was definitely going to be an adventure.

——

You were woken up the next day by the sun peaking through your window. You yawned and let out a big stretch, still giddy from last night’s date. It’s not like you thought you had just met your soulmate or something, you both kept the evening light, mainly joking and flirting as you downed drinks. But god you couldn’t remember the last time you had that much fun or ended a night feeling so confident and carefree. You were embracing every ounce of the euphoria you were getting from your new life.

You slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, still rubbing the morning crust out of your eyes. Just as you got a pot of coffee going, you heard the distinct sound of a key turning, startling you as you realized it was coming from outside of your flat’s door. You cursed at the fact that you were about to meet a new flatmate while in your flannel pajamas and messy bun hanging halfway off your head, but mainly you were excited to finally have some company.

“Dude it’s no Figure 8 living but fuck it I’ll live anywhere to not have my parents breathing down my neck these next few months,” you heard a voice say, now in the hallway of your flat.

You immediately freeze. That was a male voice, definitely a male. Of course it makes sense now that you think of it, everyone in the flat gets their own room so what does it matter if the flat is co-ed. The thought just hadn’t crossed your mind, you automatically assumed you’d be living with all girls.

“Yeah man, anywhere that’s 1,000 miles away from Ward sounds like the perfect place to me,” another male voice laughed in return. Ward? Ward Cameron? That couldn’t possibly be who the voice was referring to because that would mean you were living with- and before you could even finish your thought you were standing jaw slightly parted staring at Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton in front of you. Two of the most popular guys at school.

You weren’t really friends but your families knew each other so you inevitably saw one another at kook events every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by them. You always told yourself you didn’t care about boys like Rafe and Topper or about fitting in with their crowd, yet you always became nervous in their presence. They were cool. They partied a lot, were athletes, and had girls tripping over them, which you couldn’t fault considering anyone with eyes could tell they were attractive, but you’d never have the confidence to be so bold with guys like that. Unless you were drunk of course. And unless you were the new confident and carefree version of yourself that you had been on your date last night with Liam.

“Yo Y/n, no fucking way, I didn’t know we’d get to live with girl,” Topper smiled at you with a teasing grin.

You were suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you look and how you weren’t wearing a bra under your thin pajama top.

“Uh hey w-what are you guys doing here,” you managed to choke out. That confident girl from last night had disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving you now feeling winded in front of the two boys from your hometown. Why were you getting so flustered?

“Just on a little exchange program from Kildare, maybe you’ve heard of it,” teased Rafe sarcastically, a smile tugging at his lips, holding back a laugh at how caught off guard you looked.

“Yeah no yeah of course,” you stuttered, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you two to want to sign up for it.”

That’s when you realized the obvious. Every year there was always a number of spots reserved on the exchange for athletes, and Rafe and Topper were two of Kildare’s star soccer players.

“What and get to miss an opportunity to play at Westheath and go to Premier League games all semester? No shot,” laughed Topper.

“Maybe you should’ve gone to orientation after all, roomie,” joked Rafe as he picked up his bag following Topper down the hall to their rooms. Rafe Cameron noticed I didn’t go to orientation?

You let your face fall in your hands with a groan only audible to you. You quickly picked up your head and shook yourself off, pouring yourself a cup of coffee as you tried to ground yourself from your frazzled state. Looks like escaping OBX was going to be harder than you thought.

---

Part 2

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outerbanks rafe

116 notes · View notes

thinkingoutlouddblog · 3 years

Text

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

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stayevildarling · 3 years

Text

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right Pt 2

Part 1, Part 3

word count: 3.5k

warnings: brief mention of dizziness and feeling sick, mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: Part two! I will write one more part, potentially two, kind of depends. I hope everyone enjoys this story so far!

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @mrsdeanhoward , @alexajbitar , @in-cordelias-coven , @kenzbro , @loverofallthingssarah , @twistedpoeticjustice , @billiebeanhoward , @minaslittleone , @lilypadscoven , @vintagepaulson , @ninaahs , @whitelotus00 , @httpfiftyshadesofgay

After getting back to your desk and quickly sitting down as it felt like your legs might just give up on you, heart still racing fast and mind filled with thoughts, you try and focus on the tasks ahead again. Your boss instructed you to make arrangements for the new partnership with Kineros Robotics and as you do some research on their website instead of clicking the Company History link or the product one to actually write the article, your thoughts trail off.

As a result, you click on ''Employees'' and you recognize the two men from earlier. One of them is called Jeff Pfister and the other one is called Mutt Nutter and you chuckle at that name. You learn they are heads of the company and then you see HR and there she is Wilhemina. In the photo she seems cold and harsh and not even in your worst nightmares you imagined meeting her would be like it was today.

First of all, you have trouble believing she works and lives in the same city you do now like it must be fate right? You moved and changed jobs and you find yourself in the same city? Your new firm working together with hers? and you running into her after thinking of her earlier while listening to some lyrics in your lunch break?

It all seems too good to be true and it definitely must be the universe sending you both some kind of signal. As you type out some words on your computer, actually trying to get some work done, you feel how shaky you are and that you can't even type properly. Taking a deep breath, you try and remind yourself to say calm and that this feeling will pass and reminding yourself this is just the result from today's events.

As you lean down to get your bag to drink something you see stars and you can feel dizziness approaching, so you slowly make your way to the employee's bathroom, also feeling slightly sick. Standing by the sink, you let some cold water run down your wrists and you also splash some cold water on your face to try and calm yourself down.

Obviously, it would affect you, seeing her again so unexpectedly but you didn't think it would hit you like this and feel like a tornado just rippled through your life. It feels like all this time since Wilhemina walked out of your life, the pain never truly stopped, and even though you had healed since, the scars opened again today.

After a while, you hear the bathroom door open and you hold onto the sink feeling sicker by the second. ''Oh dear Y/N are you okay?'' you hear one of your co-workers ask and rush over to you.

''Yeah I- I think I didn't drink enough'' you say and she offers to take you home but you don't wanna bother her. ''I think I will be fine'' you say and after drinking some water she got for you, you feel less dizzy but still completely exhausted.

''I will talk to Mr. Odell'' she says and before you can protest she is gone. After a few moments, she comes back with your bag and coat and guides you outside the building, and takes you to your car.

''Are you sure you should drive?'' she asks concerned but you reassure her you are fine. ''Thank you'' you say and she leaves with a smile and says ''Just rest and if you need anything just call'' and with that she leaves and you are left, sitting in your car and you let out a deep breath you have been holding in for way too long.

You start your engine, knowing deep down that you are in no state to actually drive and that you probably shouldn't but at the same time you just want to get back into the comfort of your own apartment, as soon as possible and lie down.

The drive doesn't take too long and with the window open, music very quietly playing in the background, and the occasional sips of water, you manage to get home quicker than you initially thought. You drop your bag and coat in the hallway and after shutting the door, you head straight to the bedroom, abandoning all your thoughts and things and practically falling into bed.

The dizziness quickly subceeds as you feel your body now adjusting to the comfort of your mattress, soft pillow, and blanket you managed to wrap loosely around your tired body. Sleep quickly consumes you, your body needing rest after this exhausting day, the thought of the redhead, causing this reaction, abandoned for now but she is here yet again to haunt you in your dreams, moments after falling asleep.

''No no no please don't leave'' you scream, currently caught in a nightmare, another sign your body and brain are still processing today's events. It feels like your personal hell, as you seem to relive the worst moment of your life over and over again and that's Wilhemina walking out of your life just in different scenarios and moments but it hurts in every form of it. Tears stream down your face as you beg her not to go but each time she leaves and it feels like dying every time.

The next morning:

As soon as your eyes snap open after hearing a faint sound coming from the other end of your apartment, you feel exhausted, the last night not providing you with the kind of sleep you needed for your body and mind to fully relax and be ready for another busy and packed day ahead.

Sighing, you rub your eyes and slowly get out of bed, your feet automatically following the source of the noise, that initially woke you up and as you realize it's your phone, you are somewhat glad for the distraction as it pulled you out of several nightmares. As you finally reach your bag, you retrieve your phone and you feel relieved as you realize it's 6:30 am and you didn't miss work. At the same time, your heart skips a beat as you see Mr. Odell's number this early in the morning.

''He-hello?'' you ask slightly dumbfounded why he would be calling you at this time in the morning. ''Ahh Miss Y/L/N I was just checking to see if you feel better'' he starts but you can already feel he is after something as this seems like a small excuse to call you. ''Yes I am, thank you'' you quickly reply, waiting for his actual reason behind calling you this early.

''Listen, the contracts with Kineros Robotics are finished, I need you to go and collect them with Ms. Venable this morning'' he instructs and you can already hear him typing away on his computer. ''Of course'' you reply before he says a few 'Thank yous' and ending the call.

Closing your eyes, you try and take a deep breath and remind yourself that everything will be okay and to keep the raging storm of emotions at bay but somehow the thought of seeing Wilhemina again terrifies you and makes your stomach flip but at the same time there are so many 'What ifs' and unanswered questions, still filling your brain and causing you to overthink.

Still feeling sleepy and also exhausted from the night before, you decide to have a quick shower, before getting ready and adjusting your usual work attire in the mirror, styling your hair, and applying makeup. The only difference today is that no amount of makeup could cover or hide the bags under your eyes and how exhausted you look.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing your things, as well as a coffee, you leave your apartment and head over to Kineros Robotics. Somehow, even though it seemed like on the entire car ride there you didn't even pay attention to anything, the day before you, you somehow did as you find yourself in the familiar parking lot, a while later.

As you walk in, heading straight towards the familiar corridor, walking past the front desk, you don't realize at first, that the entire building is dead quiet, your own thoughts too loud and only as you pass a clock on the wall, you realize it's seven thirty am and probably the reason for the silence and no one there yet.

Part of yourself feels relieved as you hear some clicking on a computer keyboard and without being able to see her yet, you know Wilhemina is already there. You aren't actually that surprised because the redhead used to be the first one in the office every morning, at your old firm where you worked together, always the first to open up and last to close up, really focussed on her work and taking it seriously.

As she hears footsteps approach, Wilhemina looks up confused about who would already be here at this time because she is always the first one and her idiot bosses wouldn't be awake at this time. ''Y/N?'' she asks confused as she sees you enter, stopping whatever she is working on, and for a moment you just look at her unable to say a word.

She scans each one of your features and by your posture and facial expression she knows you are not okay, she used to hold you whenever you weren't feeling well or after a nightmare and she can read you better than anyone else.

''What- what are you doing here this early?'' she asks confused and you can tell she hesitated at first before asking and you notice her voice still sounds dominant but it sounds slightly softer at the same time.

Finally clearing your throat and approaching her desk, ignoring your sweaty palms or heart beating faster, you compose yourself and manage to form a reply.

''I'm here to pick up the files and contracts for Mr. Odell'' you say, still feeling intimidated by her burning gaze. It seems as if she is staring straight into your soul, reading and knowing every single detail about you like the sleepless nights, nightmares, or how she still haunts you every single day.

''Very well'' she replies and nods and she retrieves her cane, gripping hard around the snake handle, before walking over to a cabinet and getting out some folders with the needed documents. As she has to slightly bend down, you notice the same expression on her face, even though you can only see half of it. Wilhemina always hid her pains from you, even back then, she would reassure and promise and pull the most adorable faces, promising she is okay but you knew deep down by the furrow in her eyebrow and how quickly her eyes shut close, whenever she had to move her back the slightest, she was lying.

It takes her moments to gather the needed documents and you find a little smile playing on your lips because despite what happened to the woman you used to know so well, it makes you feel calm that deep down she is still the same organized and hard-working Wilhemina she always had been. It feels like a glimpse of hope, a little ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm.

However, your smile quickly fades as Wilhemina turns around, her gaze lingering on you as she walks towards you. Her expression is stern and cold, no emotion visible and your little glimpse of hope vanishing again. Slowly the realization sinks in that no matter what might have happened, there will be no way to ever get back to how things used to be and this doesn't just cause your throat to go dry, hands shaking uncontrollably again but also for your heart to beat out of your chest, the feeling of anxiety slightly creeping it's ugly way back into your brain.

The woman standing across you, that used to be so much more to you than a stranger, scans your features, noticing the bags under your eyes and the sadness radiating off you. She can look behind the facade, the forced and polite smile but the Wilhemina currently standing in front of you doesn't know how to reach you anymore, as deep down she knows that she lost you long ago and along with you, the only source of light in her life, ever.

Snapping out of it, Wilhemina hands you the files not once averting your gaze and it feels like you might just die from the force her brown observing eyes have on you. As she hands you the files, you reach for it, trying to hide the shaking of your hands but the redhead instantly notices, her gaze finally leaving your eyes.

''Thank you, M-'' you start to say out of a habit, as you were so used to calling her that nickname before but you stop yourself just in time. You give her a polite smile that she doesn't return, her face completely lacking any emotions or giving you any indication on how she is feeling, either about this interaction or seeing you again in general.

Slowly, you turn back around, the same polite smile on your face and a little nod as a form of saying goodbye to her, not expecting to see her again in the near future, as Mr. Odell's assistant would be back tomorrow and you wouldn't be working on this anymore either way. As soon as you turn around and are about to head to the exit, back through the same corridor, your smile fades, face almost crumpling, the pain of seeing the woman you love change into this person completely lacking emotions and reminding you more of a robot than a human, which technically is fitting, considering the company you are currently in and the work they do.

Just as you are about to leave, you suddenly feel a hand reach for your wrist. You flinch momentarily and freeze, as you feel the material of the cold gloves on your skin. Instantly you are reminded of her touch lingering on your skin before when the two of you were still in each other's arms and lives. Her hands had never felt this strange and cold before, as they used to have the sole purpose of making you feel warm and loved, either by holding you or making you feel beautiful in other ways.

Finally, you snap your eyes open as a wave of emotions hit you, part of you wants to cry, part of you is angry about the way she left, heartbroken even being in the same room and just deeply concerned and worried about the redhead standing behind you and holding onto you still as if she was scared if she let go, she would lose you all over again.

''Y/N wait'' Wilhemina whispers and as you turn around, now inches apart, you don't notice the way her voice went soft and she let go of her grip after noticing you flinched a bit at the sensation. The two of you instantly lock eyes and it feels like so much is being said, simply through the locking of your eyes.

Despite the redhead trying to hide her true emotions, internally reminding herself who she is and who she has to be, to keep her perfect and cold appearance intact, she crumbles underneath the bottling up emotions and the way it made her feel to see you again. You notice the inner battle she is fighting, her eyes turning a darker and lighter shape with each thought inside Wilhemina. It feels as if the soft Mina is trying to fight her way out of this darker version, wanting to say so many things to you, but at the same time fighting with everything she has left inside her.

As you stand there frozen, just watching the woman standing across from you, your own emotions take over as tears prickle in your eyes and your heart loudly begins thumping in your chest. You look at the redhead, part of you begging her to speak up, to finally let those bottled up emotions go as you can practically feel them radiating off her. For a split second you have hope, as her mouth parts and you expect something, an explanation, an apology or something that could soothe the many questions and aching in your heart, that started with the day she walked out of your shared apartment.

However, the battle inside Wilhemina is too strong, the darker side having ruled her little kingdom of emotions too long that in result, soft Wilhemina, the woman you used to know and fell in love with, has no chance of winning or voicing herself. You sigh in defeat, as you realize there is no chance to get even a simple explanation out of Wilhemina. ''It's okay'' you mumble, after giving her enough time to speak and realizing that it's too late.

Your ex-girlfriend watches, as you turn your back to her again, this time not stopping in your tracks and this time you being the one to walk out of her workplace and life. She stands there frozen, unable to move for a while as the soft Mina is utterly heartbroken as a small part is still inside fighting somewhere. It takes her several minutes to snap out of her state after hearing her two bosses walk in with silly faces, clearly wanting something from the redhead again and needing her attention. She snaps out of it, turning around and walking towards her desk, the same cold expression on her face as if nothing had happened.

A while later, you sit by your desk after handing your boss the documents and unavoidably handing him the key to your connection to Wilhemina, as from tomorrow on Mr. Odell's assistant will be working on the Kineros Robotics case again, like she was supposed to. You try and focus on the tasks ahead but avert your gaze from your computer, looking out the window and watching as the clouds keep the sun from shining and blessing the city with sunlight. Your mind can't help but wander to Wilhemina and the question what had happened to her in the first place to change into the person you had met again yesterday.

Feeling a little shiver run down your spine, you try and ignore the thoughts, accepting fate and believing that fate always has a plan in the end. ''Maybe we aren't meant to be after all'' you think to yourself, before focussing your attention on your tasks and work for the day again, unaware that in a similar, much more purple office, on the other side of the city Wilhemina is sitting by her desk, her mind occupied by you.

#wilhemina venable #venable #miss venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #wilhemina venable imagine #au #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #wattpad #writing #fanfic #lgbtq #part two #one shot #ficlet

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symphonicmetal101 · 3 years

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Welcome To The World Satan

An Obey Me theory/headcanon as to how Satan gradually became accepted by a grief-ridden family

Ok to start, I’ll be referring to a couple hcs that already exist here, It’s not vital to go back and read those first, but it’s a short piece and would help me out a ton if you leave so much as a like! Thank you.

Alright, as I mentioned in the other piece, I hc that Satan was “born” as a small child, about 4 years old in human years. This is because children often do not have a way to communicate exactly how they are feeling, and their frustration is further enhanced by the lack of that ability. Because Satan was the spawn of Lucifer’s wrath, guilt, and regret, I would also like to put a theory out there that Satan is the spitting image of Lilith, seeing as losing Lilith is one of if not Lucifer’s biggest regret. However I want to take that theory a little farther.

Mammon

In those few moments it took for Satan to form, Lilith’s ghost had been nearby, heart-broken to see her brothers fall and crushed with the knowledge knowing they would be in pain in every way possible, thus merging with Satan before he fully came to be, hoping to provide to the newest member to her family, as well as use him as a vessel to aid in calming her family, despite his turbulent origins. When they crashed in the Devildom, someone wrote this much more poetically than me however I cannot remember who, I apologize, Lucifer was quick to throw himself into his work, his grief not aided by Satan’s strikingly similar appearance to Lilith, leaving Satan feeling confused and upset, as well as the pieces of Lilith with in him, who wanted nothing more than to comfort her biggest brother, but continued to be pushed away. With Leviathan under the water, Asmo indulging in his sin, Beel basically stress-eating, and Belphie sleeping the sad away, the only one really available for Satan was Mammon. Mammon of course, was dealing with his own grief, but here he was in the same room as a young crying and screaming kid that looked like his dead sister, all his brothers have kind of separated to deal with things on their own, but...he couldn’t just leave Satan. After a few attempts at calming him down and failing, Mammon started getting distracted by pieces of metal and scraps around the room, temporarily ignoring Satan and subconsciously going back to an old hobby with an alternate motive- inventing a machine that could help make him rich! Though as Mammon started gathering supplies, Satan’s cries slowly started to deescalate into small whimpers and sniffles before he crawled over to Mammon, studying what he was doing and then trying his best to help. It was a bit of a stress-reliever for Mammon, and he helped Satan the way Lucifer had helped him all those years ago, but warned him it might not work. It inevitably fell apart and Satan’s first instinct was to throw a tantrum, but as hot tears of frustration filled his eyes, Mammon simply pulled him into a hug. Lilith also helped calm him down a bit, and for the first time since being created, Satan sighed and felt peace...at least momentarily, but that was all he needed to know he was safe with Mammon, and a piece of Lilith faded, one of her pieces of unfinished business completed.

The Twins

Satan still wasn’t accepted very quickly by the other brothers, and even with Mammon he struggled to be around him all the time, and as mentioned in the other piece, he often wandered. However one time he had had a nightmare and was walking towards Mammon’s room when he heard a pitiful cry from the twins room, daring to peek in and see Beel and Belphie sharing a bed, Beel crying in his sleep, Belphie clearly having a nightmare just like he had just had. A strange urge pushed him forward, though he felt very small in comparison, wondering what he could possibly do until he got stronger instruction from a voice in his head to lay between the two. He did, and slowly but surely the twins and himself calmed down and were able to fall back asleep. The morning after, the twins were surprised, and after listening to Satan’s story as to why he was in their bed, they had the want to protect him as well. As they spent more time with him however, they found that he not only looked like Lilith, but shared many characteristics with her. For Belphie, it was a source of comfort, whereas for Beel it brought his guilt back, and for the time being, he tried to distance himself from Satan, but always treated him kindly whenever they did happen to be in the same room. Whenever Satan couldn’t sleep, Belphie would tell him bed time stories. Eventually Satan wanted to remember all the stories Belphie told him, so he got a paper and a pen to draw what he understood from each story, and would cry and scream at Belphie if he fell asleep in the middle of telling a story. He had his own picture books now, and would review them often.

Levi

Asmo

I have some other stuff on him and Asmo here, regarding his sense of style (and/or lack thereof), but not important. Asmo wasn’t home a lot of the time after the initial fall, spending his time indulging himself, as well as going out and drinking. (May do an angst piece for Asmo in the near future, we shall see-) However as he started to adjust even the smallest bit, he started to actually decorate his room a bit instead of neglecting it. So by the Satan came stumbling down the hallway looking for something to do, his curiousity got the best of him and he walked into Asmo’s bedroom, when the Lust demon happened to be out. He took a look around the room until he found some fashion magazines, the bright colours and big lettering catching his eye. Not wanting to get caught in Asmo’s room without him there, he took one and ran to his room, and slowly looking over the words to try and sound them out, using the pictures to help him understand. As he got better at this, it would become almost a ritual. He would very quietly open the door to make sure that if Asmo was in there sleeping, he wouldn’t wake him up by accident and avoid getting caught. He would steal a few magazines (thanks Mammon for showing him how to do it “right”-), take them to his room and try to read them, but now also adding the words to Belphie’s stories under his pictures in his book. One day he was on his way to return the magazines with his book tucked under his other arm, excited to show the twins and maybe Mammon, but in his excitement he forgot to knock or check quietly first, opening the door and seeing a startled looking Asmo applying make-up at his vanity. Asmo knew about Satan, but hadn’t really seen him yet, wide-eyed at the resemblance between him and Lilith as he slowly put his mascara down and knelt on the floor, beckoning Satan closer by name, reassuring him it was ok. Satan cautiously and somewhat ashamed-looking approached Asmo, trying somewhat to hide the magazines he had, though once he was close enough Asmo could see that there were a few tears in his eyes, from fear, and anger at himself, and embarrassment in getting caught. He gently put his hand on Satan’s shoulder and asked him if he needed a hug, trying not to let on just how much he needed one himself. Satan started crying and apologized for taking the magazines without permission as he hugged Asmo. Asmo reassured him it was ok and held him close until he stopped crying, just rocking him back and forth a bit. When he was done, Asmo had a few tears in his eyes as well as he wiped Satan’s away, explaining he wasn’t upset, but curious as to why Satan wanted to look at the magazines. Satan proudly presented his homemade book to Asmo and explained he had been teaching himself how to read and write using Asmo’s magazines. Asmo was clearly impressed by this, and was the first person to praise Satan for anything he had done, and asked him to read the book to him, sitting on the floor properly and inviting him to sit in his lap. Satan was more than happy to oblige, feeling his little heart swell with joy as he plopped himself down and started reading to Asmo the stories Belphie told him, as Asmo felt love for someone again, almost crying at the amount of comfort Satan had given him, for the first time sense falling, Asmo had found a bit of peace, allowing another piece of Lilith to fade away. As Satan presented his work to his other brothers, they were impressed, Belphie much more touched than he let on., and it was actually him that suggested that one of them take Satan to a library with more age-appropriate books, as the ones in the house were too mature for him. Satan was ecstatic and was finally starting to feel a bit more like a part of the family.

It took a while for Levi to come home, partially because he didn’t even know where “home” was. However by the time Levi got home he was still struggling to control his sin, getting angry and jealous over Satan getting so much attention, inadvertently feeding into Satan’s power. Satan turned into his demon form, a sight that wasn’t new to the other brothers but concerning, as for the first time, he wasn’t crying, and it was just pure anger as Levi snapped at him for “taking his brothers away” and “you’re not a real part of this family, why should you get the love I deserve?!” Beel tried to calm Levi down as Asmo and Belphie tried Satan, but the damage was done and Satan wasn’t backing down this time. He ended up attacking Levi, leaving everyone panicking, not knowing how Levi would react and how far Satan would go. Beel was quick to pick Satan up, leaving a stunned Levi on the floor. He slowly got up, as Satan curled into Beel still in his demon form, crying angrily, not wanting to believe Levi’s words. Levi mumbled something under his breath and went to his room, holing up and relying on Beel to bring him food and water as he continued to pity himself. Satan needed a lot reassurance from his brothers he had connected with to make sure they weren’t going to push him away again, leave him alone again, and not say things like Levi had ever again. It wasn’t until Levi started to set things up for a pet that Satan felt like approaching him again. Levi had learned to control himself a bit better as well as felt bad for having said those things to Satan, and apologizing. Once Satan knew what kind of pet Levi was getting, and also found out that Levi read something called “manga”, he asked one of his brothers to take him to the library so he could grabs some manga as well as pick up food for the animal Levi was getting. Satan also picked up a book about raising the animal Levi was getting. He was adamant about taking it to Levi himself, his arms full of manga as he made his way to Levi’s room trying not to fall over. Levi was pleasantly surprised, and took a moment before realizing he should probably grab the stack before the child did actually fall over- Satan had asked about a certain book, caught off guard by himself as there was no way he should’ve known the title of a book when he didn’t even know that genre existed- Thank you Lilith. He had gotten a book that Levi had been in the middle of reading in the Celestial Realm, making him inexplicably happy. Levi ruffled his hair a bit as thanks and Satan smiled, happy that they had made up and resumed helping Levi set up the habitat. Levi told Satan he would help him find good manga for when he was old enough to read some of them. And with that, another piece of Lilith faded away.

Lucifer

Finally there was Lucifer. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on Satan’s part, since his creation, Lucifer was the one he felt the pull to most, but continuously was pushed away, Lucifer being “too busy”. What he didn’t know, was almost every time he left Lucifer, Lucifer would cry. He felt like a failure for having lost Lilith, and seeing Satan was salt in the wound as we was reminded of her every time. Satan felt unwanted, and started to build resentment for Lucifer, surely if he could get along with Levi he could eventually get along with the person who brought him into this world....right? However even once Lucifer started coming out of his office, whenever Lucifer looked down at Satan, even Satan could tell that there was something in his eyes that didn’t feel right, almost like disgust, when really, it was sadness. Satan stopped trying to get on Lucifer’s good side, despite what he felt was Lilith’s desperation. After a while, Lucifer finally felt ready to try and talk to Satan, to get to know him, but Satan still held that resentment and turned him away, telling him “you should have been the brother you are trying to be now...when I actually needed and wanted you.”

Conclusion

There is a small part of Lilith still with Satan, but he has grown to the point of being his own person. Sometimes when Satan feels alienated for being the only demon-born brother, he gets an inexplicable feeling of comfort wash over him, at least he did before MC came. With MC there to kind of take Lilith’s place, Lilith was finally able to find rest, her unfinished business finally taken care of.

Anyways- thank you for reading, I hope you found this interesting!

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me thoughts #obey me theory #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #v talks

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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So here it is, the thing that I've been working on for so long that I haven't posted anything else, My magnum opus of fanfiction. I had to write it all at once or I knew I would never finish it lol.

Warning: This fic is quite angsty. There's some sex in later chapters and a little violence and I will tag those chapters as necessary, but mostly there's just a lot of crying and emotions and being dumb.

Kidnapped to Hell (pt. 1)

Lucifer shot up in bed, startled awake by the sound of Hoshiko screaming for him and for his help.

He looked around his room frantically, certain that their scream had come from right inside his room. Upon finding no one else present, he poked his head out into the hall to see if anyone else was awake. It was then that he finally gathered his thoughts enough to remember that Hoshiko wasn't even supposed to be in the Devildom at the moment.

He sighed and shook his head as he climbed back into bed, suspecting that he had just had a nightmare. He looked at his DDD, sighing again when he saw that it was nearly a quarter until 5 in the morning. He sent Hoshiko a quick text message: - Thinking of you. I love you.- before putting it down and trying to go back to sleep.

While he had rested, he never fully fell back asleep by the time he had to get up to get ready for school.

Lucifer checked his DDD again and while he was not terribly surprised to find that Hoshiko had not responded to him yet, there was a feeling of unease that he was unable to shake.

Lucifer left for RAD that morning without bothering to eat breakfast before hand, the feeling of unease leaving him without an appetite.

He constantly checked his phone for a reply from Hoshiko throughout the day, to the point that even Diavolo was curious about what he was looking at.

The demon prince snatched Lucifer's phone from him while they were having lunch together.

"Hey! Give that back," Lucifer accosted.

"What are you looking at?" Diavolo asked, totally ignoring Lucifer's demand.

Lucifer sighed. "I texted Hoshiko this morning and they haven't responded yet."

Diavolo looked at the time stamp on Lucifer's text. "Why did you text Hoshiko at... 4:44 in the morning?"

"Because I was thinking about them at that time."

Diavolo gave him a disapproving look. "Why were you awake at that time?"

"I had just woken up... I thought I had heard Hoshiko scream, it must've just been the residual of a nightmare though."

Diavolo frowned.

"I just wanted to check on Hoshiko without making it too obvious." Lucifer admitted, unable to look Diavolo in the eye.

Diavolo hummed thoughtfully and handed Lucifer his DDD.

Lucifer took it and slipped it back into his pocket.

Diavolo crossed his arms. "Are you worried about Hoshiko?"

Lucifer sighed and looked away from Diavolo. "I understand that I may be overreacting, but I just can't help it when I don't know exactly where Hoshiko is or what they're doing."

Diavolo shook his head. "You're all antsy today."

"All? Who do you mean by all?" Lucifer looked back at Diavolo.

"You and all of your brothers. I've seen most of them this morning and they all seemed out of sorts; none of them were acting like their usual selves."

Lucifer frowned. "That's not good."

"It's not, and I'm actually worried too."

"About my brothers or Hoshiko?" Lucifer asked for clarification.

"Well, both. But I meant Hoshiko. You see, I've got this..." He sighed and motioned to his chest with his hand, struggling to find the right words. "... Feeling. I woke up this morning and I thought Hoshiko had come down here..."

Lucifer paled. "Do you mean-?"

"Oh no, not like that," Diavolo assured. "But when Hoshiko and Solomon arrive, I know even before I'm told. I know when the angels come and go too. It's just part of being the crown prince."

Lucifer nodded. "I forget all the things you can do sometimes."

Diavolo nodded. "I just thought that Hoshiko had come to visit us but you've confirmed to me that they're still up in the mortal realm, as far as we know at least."

"So, what? Do you suspect that Solomon and Hoshiko have snuck down here and are plotting something?"

Diavolo shook his head. "I don't sense Solomon's presence, and Hoshiko isn't the scheming type."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "As far as you know."

Diavolo chuckled. "Anyway... I can't say for sure, but I have an uneasy feeling. I wonder if your nightmare was an omen of sorts."

Lucifer pressed his fingertips to his chin and furrowed his brow in thought. "Who could we talk to that would know about omens and dreams?"

"Your brother," Diavolo answered plainly.

"Satan?" He asked, barely hiding a grimace.

"Yes. There's no one who's as well read as he is, and he has some of the best grades in the entire school."

"Yes, I'm aware. However, it's still a habit to him to not fully cooperate with me."

"I'm sure his tune will change if we tell him it has to do with Hoshiko," Diavolo assured him.

Lucifer nodded with a sigh. "I don't want to tell him that we're worried about Hoshiko... but you're right, it may be the only sure way to get him to cooperate with me."

Diavolo nodded. "Let's go find him then."

They both left Diavolo's RAD office and went to the dining hall in search of the middle brother.

Satan was sitting at a corner table with a book in his hand as he ate.

Diavolo and Lucifer made a beeline for his table as soon as they spotted him.

Lucifer sat down right in front of Satan. "Hello, Satan."

Diavolo sat down next to Lucifer.

Satan sighed and sat up straight. "What do you want?"

"What do you know about omens and dreams?" Lucifer cut straight to the point.

Satan raised an eyebrow. "Dreams? Like, by way of divination?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Well, it's not exactly a reliable source of divination. Most people don't even know a dream they've had has foretold the future until said future has already happened."

Lucifer nodded. "Well what about omens?"

Satan narrowed his eyes, now suspicious. "Why are you asking me about this?"

Lucifer glanced at Diavolo.

Diavolo motioned for him to continue.

Lucifer sighed and looked back at Satan. When he spoke again in was in a hushed tone.

"I believe I had a nightmare, but all I remember is Hoshiko screaming my name."

Satan's expression was akin to a grimace, but still conveyed a feeling of concern. Satan matched his volume to Lucifer's. "And they sounded scared?"

"They sounded terrified, they were calling to me for help. And it sounded so clear, I thought Hoshiko was actually in my room this morning."

Satan frowned. "What if Hoshiko was actually trying to contact you?"

Lucifer tilted his head slightly. "Pardon?"

"There's an old spell that allows the user to communicate with an intended target via telepathy. It's not used much anymore because of the rise of technology though."

Lucifer frowned at the thought of Hoshiko trying to contact him and only being able to scream. "Does Hoshiko even know that spell?"

"You know there's only one person besides Hoshiko who knows the answer to that question," Satan told him smugly.

Lucifer pursed his lips, suddenly annoyed. "I suppose I'll go call Solomon then."

"You can use my office for privacy," Diavolo offered.

Lucifer looked at him and nodded. "Thank you." He stood up.

Satan and Diavolo stood up as well.

Lucifer headed back to Diavolo's office and Satan and Diavolo followed him.

Lucifer looked back at them. "Are you two going to follow me and listen in on my phone conversation?"

"It is my duty as crown prince to know about everything that transpires in my kingdom," Diavolo told him diplomatically.

"Your concerns now have me concerned about Hoshiko," Satan told him.

"Right..." Lucifer responded to them, not fully believing their intentions to be that pure.

They all went back to Diavolo's office where Lucifer called Solomon, much to his chagrin.

Solomon answered cheerfully. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Lucifer?"

"Hello Solomon," Lucifer greeted politely. "I was hoping for some information about Hoshiko's magical studies."

"Hmm, that depends on your exact question," Solomon answered cryptically.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Right. Well I know of a spell that allows the user to speak with another telepathically. I was just wondering if Hoshiko had been taught that spell."

"Ah, yes. I have taught them that. I thought it could be useful in case of emergencies. Why do you ask?"

"I believe that Hoshiko may have tried to contact me in that fashion early this morning."

Solomon immediately dropped his cheerful demeanor, and took on a far more serious tone. "What did they say?"

"Nothing specific I'm afraid; they called my name and were asking for help. It woke me from my sleep."

"I see." Then Solomon hung up.

Lucifer looked at his DDD when the line went dead and scowled. "Well that was barely helpful..."

"What?" Diavolo asked.

"He hung up on me," Lucifer told him.

"But does Hoshiko know that spell?" Satan asked Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded. "Solomon told me that he taught it to Hoshiko in case of emergencies."

Satan nodded. "So now we just need to figure out where Hoshiko is."

"I think Solomon would be the best person to assist with that task," Diavolo commented.

"Then why did he just hang up on me?" Lucifer asked, clearly annoyed.

"Perhaps he went to go check on Hoshiko himself," Diavolo suggested.

"It would be nice to know if he was," Lucifer huffed.

Diavolo opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, pursed his lips and looked toward the door.

Then Barbatos and Solomon both entered the office.

"That was quick," Diavolo told Solomon.

Solomon only nodded in response and then looked to Barbatos.

Diavolo looked at Barbatos as well, suddenly noticing how shaken he looked.

"Barbatos, what's wrong?" Diavolo asked, voice laced with empathy. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen Barbatos appear any way besides calm and collected.

Satan and Lucifer turned their attention to Barbatos as well, finally noticing what Diavolo had noticed.

Barbatos took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. "I apologize, my lords," he started, addressing all three of the demons present. "I just recently had the thought to check and see where Hoshiko was- is," he corrected himself. He looked Diavolo straight in the eyes. "Hoshiko is down here in the Devildom..."

"I knew it-" Diavolo interrupted, but Barbatos was quick to interrupt him in return.

"Diavolo," Barbatos spoke with urgency.

Diavolo was stunned silent, as far as he could remember, Barbatos hadn't called him by his first name since he was a young boy, and even those moments had been rare.

"Hoshiko was kidnapped and taken down to the eight circles," Barbatos told them all solemnly.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, shocked but otherwise unsure of how to react.

Diavolo crossed his arms and breathed deeply in a manner that commanded attention, and he got it from everyone in the room.

"Barbatos and I will travel to the eight circles to find and retrieve Hoshiko." He looked at Solomon. "While we are gone I want you to prepare every potion, salve, and tincture you know of that can heal physical wounds."

Solomon nodded. "I can do that. Where may I work?"

"You may work in the House of Lamentation, we generally keep supplies to create such potions," Lucifer told him.

"That will work," Diavolo approved. "Hoshiko will probably be most comfortable there anyways."

Lucifer nodded in agreement.

Diavolo looked at Satan. "You want to come with Barbatos and I, dont you?"

Satan nodded quickly, anxiety fueling his actions. "Yes, I do."

"You may go if, and only if, you can keep your temper in check. We are going there to retrieve Hoshiko, they are the priority."

"I understand. I can focus on that."

"Be sure that you do, I will not hesitate to send you back if you lose your cool," Diavolo warned.

Satan only nodded, understanding that the gravity of the situation didn't allow for any argument or mistakes.

Diavolo looked at Lucifer, an apologetic look suddenly painted his face.

Lucifer looked at him and frowned. "You don't want me to go," he said, seemingly having read Diavolo's mind.

Diavolo shook his head. "I need you to prepare your brothers for how Hoshiko may return and to keep them from following after us. They're too reckless to allow them all to go down there when Hoshiko is involved."

Lucifer nodded. "I understand completely, I will do that."

Diavolo gripped Lucifer's shoulder. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate it."

Lucifer nodded.

Diavolo looked at Barbatos and Satan. "Alright, let's get going."

"Ah, wait!" Solomon asked as he pulled off his cloak.

Everyone looked at him.

Solomon closed his eyes and whispered an enchantment into the folds of his cloak, then looked at Barbatos and handed it off to him. "When you find Hoshiko, wrap them in this. It might not help much to shield their psyche from... down there, but it should help."

Barbatos nodded as he took the cloak. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Solomon," Diavolo told him. He looked at Satan and Barbatos again. "Let's go."

They nodded and left with Diavolo.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #my obey me mc #hoshiko higure #obey me Satan #obey me Solomon #obey me Barbatos #obey me fanfic #my work #my writing

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dalamjisung · 3 years

Text

queen of the night ❁ lee minho

genre: angst and fluff (a mess of emotions)

word count: 9717

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: the king needs you. but what he doesn’t know is that you need him, too.

“The preparations are underway, my King.”

He doesn’t spare a glance at his servant, waving her away with a wave as his eyes quickly scan the maps laid out in front of him. His Royal Secretary, Hwang Hyunjin, stands next to him, nodding in silent agreement as they move pieces around, mumbling unintelligible words that even if you tried, you couldn’t understand. Their low voices is a form of defense, protecting both you and themselves.

Being the Queen makes it so there are obvious downsides to a life of riches and power. After the first assassination attempt, Minho made a point of always having his eyes on you. You could still remember his angry words, the shouts echoing in the cold stoned walls of his castle.

“They dare to try and kill my wife under my roof?! Who the fuck do they think they are?” His crazed gaze lands on you, your hands clutching your robes shut as you try to control your ragged breathing. He frowns, and although it takes some time, you think he finally notices your discomfort in being in a room full of armed men after what happened. Gathering them all near his working desk, Minho quickly mumbles out orders. “Bang Chan, Changbin, take him to the dungeons, I’ll deal with him later. Felix and Jeongin, I want a through check of my grounds, use everyone available. Seungmin and Hyunjin will stay with Y/N–“

“What about you?” You ask, and you hate to admit that Lee Minho is your only source of comfort at the moment. “Where will you go?”

“I have things to deal with, my Queen,” The formality to which he responds to you is what ticks you off, and you are marching out of his room before he can even process it. Of course, his men are quick to follow you down the hall, all the way back to the Queen’s Chambers, but you lock the door before they can enter after you.

You need to be alone for what follows.

“Y/N,” Someone touches your shoulder and you’re quick to react, pulling away clumsily. You flinch, the sudden movement having your ribs throbbing in pain. “Oh… are you okay, Y/N?”

Chan’s worried eyes find your and you can’t help but smile at your best friend. He lived next to you growing up, his family relying on the crop yours maintained, and yours, relying on the protection of his father’s army. His father had been a loyal commander of the royal guard, serving the King and the Royal Family for years until he passed away in combat; and, having been trained since a young age, Chan was quick to follow his dad’s footsteps. You would’ve too, if the army allowed for female warriors. Instead, you found another way into the royal life, and, unfortunately, it came with a lot of weight to falls onto your shoulders.

“Y-Yeah,” You smile, a bit shaken up still. “I’m fine, don’t worry, Channie.”

He frowns, not believing a single word that leaves your mouth, but nodding nonetheless.

“Can I help you with anything?” You sigh, hands unconsciously moving to cover your ribs, uncomfortable with the pressure that your corset applies to the wounds.

“No, you just looked… lost,” He shrugs, looking around the room as the others busy themselves with strategies and tactical conversation. “It must be incredibly boring to have to sit through these.”

“You know I am not bored by talks of war,” You smirk, remembering back at fond memories of sitting in Chan’s living room with him and his father as you two played with his maps and two wooden swords he’d carved as toys. “I am, however, suffocated in a room too small for such big egos.”

The snort that escapes him makes you giggle, and you straighten your back at the realization that you two are being observed.

“My King,” You voice out, slowly raising up to your feet in the most composed way you can manage. “I am sorry to interrupt such urgent matters, but I wonder if it is okay for me to take a walk in the gardens…? It is such a beautiful day out and–“

“Commander,” Minho nods at Chan, face twisted into something that you can’t read. “Please escort the Queen outside.”

“Yes, my King,” Chan politely bows before following you out.

The noise of the door closing behind both of you is enough to have you both running down the hall, laughing in the most manic of ways as you race each other to the castle’s gardens. Upon your wedding, Minho had all your favorite flowers spread through the grounds, making a safe place for you to collect your thoughts and enjoy the sun, as he put it. You hold that space sacred, adoring what it means for you and what it could’ve meant for the King, even though you’ve never seen him out there, not even once.

“Oh, my Queen!” One of the maid steps out of the way as you run past her. “Be careful!”

“I will, Dorothea,” You shout back, smiling widely as you push the heavy doors open. The sun makes you squint, but you soon get used to it, quick enough to watch Chan pant, hands holding his body up by the knees. “Getting old, Bang?”

“Ha!” He wheezes out, but his nose crinkles in a oh so familiar way that is enough to have you laughing again. “You wish, Y/L/N… or should I say, my Queen?”

“Ew, no,” Your hands touch the white petals that surround you, finding comfort in the smoothness of their beings. “I hate it when you call me that, Commander.”

“You suck,” Chan grumbles, poking his tongue out at you.

“You are probably the only one that can tell me that without suffering the consequences,” You joke, sitting down on the wooden bench that faces the pond. Before sitting next to you, Chan looks around, wanting to make sure no one would witness such comfort casualty from a royal guard towards the Queen.

“Oh yes,” He chuckles. “The King would definitely send me after them.”

“It is not you that my enemies should fear,” You smile, hands once agains seeking the white flowers, almost as if honing their energy to yourself. “They are my enemies, after all.”

“Close your eyes,” He says once again, and is that a hint of a smile you hear in his voice? “It’s a surprise, my Queen.”

“They are closed,” You muse, chuckling at the uncharacteristically youthful behavior. Your hands are stretched in front of you, careful not to hit anything as your husband guides you through the halls of your new home.

You hear a loud, creaking noise and suddenly there is wind, blowing against you, caressing your skin with gentle nips of cold air. His hand is firm on your waist, and you dare to blush at the touch you’ve been craving for for so long, basking in the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek as he chuckles once you almost trip over an unannounced step.

“I got you,” He mumbles, voice low and raspy. “I got you, Y/N.”

“T-Thank you,” You whisper back, allowing your hands to fall on top of his as he keeps guiding you, turning you right, right, left, right, left, and stop. “Are… are we here?”

“We are,” He slowly withdrawals from you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Your answer comes out more excited than you intended and he laughs at your enthusiasm.

“Open you eyes.”

Blinking, you focus on the rich bushes surrounding you, and where before there was simple foliage, beautiful, big white flowers have bloomed, their smell enveloping you in a trance of amazement and wonder.

“They are called Queens of the Night,” Minho explains, slowly walking besides you. “I thought it was fitting for you… with how they open up slowly, only at night; how they are careful with their surroundings, looking so rough at first, and then so, so soft at the touch.”

“Minho…” You whisper, holding tears back. This is the most beautiful thing he’s done for you ever since your wedding.

“My Queen,” His eyes are looking at you– only you– but he still misses the way your smile fades as you process his words, a pang of sadness washing away all the remnants of the momentary glee he was able to offer you. “My life.”

Nights in the castle are quiet, Minho being a kind enough master to give his servants the dark hours to rest. He cares for those who care for him and you know it; for him, however, it seems that you are the only exception.

Your windows is open, much to your husband’s dismay, but you simply shrug at his disapproving eyes, set on the ideal that if he won’t sleep in this room, he won’t command this room. A queen must sleep in her own chambers, is what he told you after the ceremony was done. He was courteous enough to call the maids to help you out of your wedding gown, but you would only see him again the next morning, understandably so. You knew why he married you then, and you know why he still keeps you close now; nothing about you is enough to allure the almighty King Lee Minho– no beauty, no riches, no titles. But what you give your husband is something beyond the shallow eyes of those who wondered what did their King see in a woman like you, a woman with no prowesses. What he did see, however, is something that only few do, and even fewer dare to recognize it– especially in a woman– but he did. He saw you for what you are, and that is the main, if not the only, reason you accepted his proposal. Minho saw pure, and unadulterated power.

Chan is the one to pick you up. He doesn’t dare to contest or question his orders, this is not up to him, but he worries; it’s clear in his eyes, in his face, in the way his mouth turns slightly downwards. He doesn’t find you in your family’s home and if that’s not where you are, then there is only one other place you could be.

He finds you in his house, laughing merrily with his mother as you enjoyed a warm cup of tea and wild strawberries from the forest in the back of his house. His mother sees him first, leaping to her feet and running to her son, excited to have her boy in her arms even if for a small moment. It is the fact that he doesn’t laugh or smile that has you both worrying, his mother pulling away from him, hands trembling and heart racing, and you behind her, hands on her shoulder in support.

That’s always been you– the silent support.

The strongest pillar of both your families.

“Y/N,” Chan’s voice is thick with worry, and you frown, wondering if he was once again hiding his tears from both of you. “The King requests your presence.”

“Oh my!” His mother gasps, turning to face you. “What does he want with her?”

“He saw you.”

You nod. You nod because you know– because you saw him too. It was during an attack to the village, an unexpected ambush from the prince of a neighboring kingdom as he visited to sign a trade treaty; from the carriages and nearby mountains, waves of men poured into the centre of your home, killing, destroying, burning. You remember hiding your parents and Ms. Bang in the forest, and almost like you’ve been possessed by an avenging spirit, you take a deep breath, you calm your racing heart, your focus, and you move. Years of training rush back to you, living next to the most skilled fighter and swordsman of the kingdom suddenly paying off, as one after the other, enemies fall to the ground under your merciless arrows.

In your defense, you didn’t know it was him– you didn’t know it was the King– but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. He is surrounded, twin blades in each hand, and all you see from under his dark hood is a smirk. The skill one needs to wield twin blades is immense, but even relying on his experience and obvious mastery of his weapons, this man would die by end of today… if you didn’t do something about it. Unlike him, you rely on your stealth and speed. You have a long distance weapon, and only a couple of arrows left– missing is not an option.

“Missing is never an option,” You whisper to yourself , and once again you take a deep breath. Hold it. And release.

The first arrow crosses his neck, and before their eyes can find you, the second one strikes another in the shoulder. With two down, you have enough time to throw your bow to the side, pulling two knives from your boots.

Some may say you fight dirty, arriving unannounced, secretly, quietly. It’s not good form, it is not noble. You, on the other hand, say you fight to survive. You don’t care about dignity as long as you get live. As long as those you are protecting get to live. That is all that matters, you think, as you approach another two, ducking away from the uncontrolled swords clanking against each other.

“Three,” You whisper, swiftly moving away as you slice his neck open. His body falls loudly, and now all eyes are on you, but that only buys you time. Another knife finds another man’s knees, and you let the twin blade’s finish the job. “Four.”

You pull away in time to see the other two enemies fall dead on the ground, and you don’t dare to look up at the curious eyes that watch you walk away.

“You saved my life,” He shouts as he sheaths his swords.

“I know,” You pick up your bow, quickly putting your knives away.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You frown, not even bothering to look back at him. You don’t stop walking, but he follows you.

“You must know who I am,” He chuckles, and you can hear him jogging to catch up with you. “So tell me… how can I repay you?”

“No need for that, your Majesty,” You keep your eyes down. “I did only what anyone would.”

“No,” He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. Not even my best commander could do what you did.”

You frown, not quite content with the dismissal of your best friend’s talents.

“I am sorry, your Majesty,” You bow down. “But everything I know is because of your commander. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check in on my family.”

One final bow and you are gone.

You remain unmoving as you hear shuffling from your window, your blinds fluttering with both the wind and the intruder. Another assassination attempt… could it be? It had been less than a month since you dealt with the last one. Who could be so desperate to have your King dead as to send multiple assailants in such a short period of time?

Don’t they know?, you think, regulating your breath to not give yourself away. One of them is bound to talk…

You move slowly, almost dreamily, slipping your hand under your pillow, where a familiar knife lays. This one was specially made for you with the best steel available in the kingdom, handle garnished with the brightest rubies in the land– Minho was particularly proud of himself with that one gift. Your thumb laces through the whole in the handle, steading your grip for when you inevitably ‘wake up.’

“Ah,” You hear the low voice mumble, a man. The deep breath he takes, nose bumping against your forehead, makes your stomach knot, and you stop yourself from giving into the nausea that threatens to take over. “Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved. You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?”

The cold drag of his blade on the exposed skin of chest is all you need to snap, one leg pushing him into the bed and one hand on his shoulder to hold him down, knife perfectly placed on his throat. Your breathing is harsh, visibly disgruntled, but he is too busy trying to regain control to notice. No one ever notices.

“Wha–“

“Who dares to trespass into the royal residence?” You practically growl, hair escaping your braid and falling over your eyes. You are aware of how you look– nightgown exposing the top your heaving breasts, eyes dark, hair wild; you see how his eyes leave your for a second, taking in the whole picture, and you really want to get this over with. But you need information first.

“Well, well, well, the Queen has some surprises up her sleeve,” He wheezes as you press your knife down harder.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” He mumbles, smirking.

“No,” You chuckle. “I have no use for such an insignificant name. I do, however, need to know who hired you.”

“Ah, I believe you know that information will never reach you, your Majesty,” He winces, feeling the sharp blade shallowly cut through his skin.

“You see, I don’t believe you,” You click your tongue, and with another swift motion, you two are standing, his arm twisted against his back and your knife still in place. “But I understand… I am merely a woman, why would you tell me anything? Maybe an audience with the King will suit you better.”

Your feet are cold against the polished stones, but everything is secondary to the task in hand. You push the man forward, and it’s only when you’re in front of his door that you notice it is already ajar. It’s almost like your heart stops beating and your hostage notices, using the moment in his favor. He knocks you back with his head, and you feel blood dripping from your brow where he hit you. He has no weapon, so he is quick to try and escape. You can’t let that happen; you need to know who wants Minho dead– that’s the only reason you are there to begin with. You can’t disappoint him. Whatever happens next, it happens in seconds; with your mind split in between you current situation and your husband, you cuss the gods above and throw your knife, and before you hear the loud thump of the man’s lifeless body hitting the floor, you feel all the air in your lugs escape you.

“Stupid bitch,” You hear, as you fall on the ground. Another person, another woman, stands over you, feet pressing down next to where a small blade is lodged on your side, blood staining the floors the more you stay there.

The pain you feel has nothing to do with the weapon intruding your body, and you push away any emotional turmoil, forcing your blurry vision to focus, and all you need is one hit to the back of her knee. She falls forward, arms stretched to cushion her fall, and your elbow meets her face before she can even touch the ground. Adrenaline is rushing through you and you rely on that, knowing that you don’t have long until it starts to wear off and you lose all consciousness.

“Respect your Queen,” You snarl, getting into a fighting stance as she raises to her feet. “Girl.”

One of your hands puts pressure on your lower stomach, stupidly trying to stop the bleeding– you know you can’t pull the knife out, but it might just be the only weapon you have available. You have no other choice as she advances, another blade pulled out from her back– it’s messy and full of rage, completely unlike you, but it’s the best you can do. You barely feel the cuts she makes on your arms, and you don’t really register the loud steps approaching from the south entrance; all you can think about is Minho and the fact that she came out of his room.

Your body is getting slower by the second, and your opponent is quick to use that to her advantage, widely striking whatever she can reach. She doesn’t kill you, though, and you wonder if she might just need you alive.

“Y/N!”

Chan’s voice is the last push you need, and the knife on your hands, one coated with your own blood and sweat, finds itself a home in her shoulder. The guards are quick to grab her, and you waste no time, pushing Chan away to run into the King’s room.

Minho has his wrists tied to the bed, and he is unconscious. A large gash in his chest, from his collarbone all the way down, is bleeding and you cry out in surprise, tears threatening to fall. It’s your voice, really, that wakes him up with a flinch, and his eyes open quick enough to watch you, all bloodies and bruised, crying, fall on his commander’s arms.

“I have a proposal for you.”

You don’t respond, still on your knees in front of your ruler. It is only once he tells you to rise that you do, looking at him in confusion.

“I have a proposal for you, Lady Y/N,” He repeats, getting from his throne. With suspicious eyes, he is quick to command everyone outside, wanting privacy for what is next.

“Whatever it is, my King,” You respectfully nod. “I am honored.”

“Marry me.”

Your gasp travels through the walls, and that is the first time you learn that the castle’s walls talk back, echoing your words as if confirming your decision.

“E-Excuse me?!” You mumble.

“Marry me,” He repeats, and with his hand, he guides you to his throne, sitting you down and moving to grab you a cup of water. “I know this is sudden, but you must be aware of the pressure I’ve been under to find a queen.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” You look at him with wide eyes. “But I-I don’t understand–“

“If you are aware of the pressure bestowed upon me,” He chuckles, and nothing but misery comes out through his voice. “Then you must also be aware of the attempts on my life.”

“I’ve heard of them,” You mutter, looking down at your hands. You hear shuffling, and you see the King kneeling in front of you. His hands cover yours, and he carefully examines your palms, looking for something. “I thought they were rumors…”

“Not rumors, unfortunately,” He sighs, closing his eyes, and just now you notice how exhausted he looks, almost like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “And it’s becoming impossibly harder to deal with those. Few of my men are capable enough to deal with hired assassins, but they are still soldiers– they rely on force and brute strength. That is not what I need, Lady Y/N, to deal with these threats.”

“W-What do you need, my King?” You frown.

“I need someone observant,” He says, eyes intense on you. “I need someone careful and stealthy. I need an assassin of my own.”

“Your M–“

“I need you.”

You quickly raise to your feet, putting some distance in between you and him, as if that would allow you breath, to think.

“Your Majesty,” You cry out, not being able to deal with his ludicrous offer. “I am not an assassin. I am not half as capable as your men, I am just a–“

“Woman?” He finishes the sentence and it burns; your skin burns with the way he looks at you, your heart burns with how fast it’s beating, your cheeks burn with the blush that takes over as you nod. “Even better. No one will expect this from you. You can hide from everyone, Y/N, but you can’t hide from me. Not anymore.”

“Why marry me, then?” You whisper, hands shaking. You want to scream… you want to cry and hit something. Why is this happening to you?

“Putting you in my army will just give away your potential,” He sighs. “And marrying you is the best way possible to always have you close without raising suspicion. You’ll always be by my side�� my Queen. My life will be in your hands should you accept this, Y/N; but by marrying you I can at least make sure that your life here is comfortable. I can take care of your family, protect them. That’s why I can offer you in return.”

Your breathing stops. “You are asking for my life, your Majesty, not my hand.”

“I am,” He breathes out, frowning. “I am, indeed.”

“Do I really have a choice?” He doesn’t answer. “I thought so.”

“Everything I can do to guarantee your safety, I will,” He argues, closing in on you. His hands find your cheek, and his voice is as fierce as his eyes. “I’ll care for you. I’ll watch over you.”

You nod. This is your fate.

So face it.

“Okay,” You say, softly. “I’ll marry you.”

According to Chan, it took you four days to regain consciousness. The kingdom has been in distress, and your parents have not left the castle, Minho having provided them with comfortable rooms and service. Your husband stayed by your side until you opened your eyes, and only when you cried out, shaking your head, only then he left.

Everything hurt, and Seungmin has been more than attentive to your wounds, making sure to treat them at least thrice a day. He was able to stop the bleeding as soon as you were left to his care, but he still worried that you lost too much blood.

“You scared us,” He tells you every morning, when Minho and Hyunjin accompany him to your chambers to check on you. “You are lucky that the Commander got to you quickly, my Queen, or else who know what those people would’ve done to you.”

Who knows what those people would’ve done to you.

Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved.

You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?

“I-I, oh my god, I– Seungmin, I’m going; I need a bowl,” A familiar feeling creeps up to you, and you know what is about to happen. Your lungs tighten, and the more your try to take in gulps of air, the more you seem to be out of it; hands furiously searching for anything to grasp– the sheets, your hair, another hand– and you whimper, tears starting to stream down your face. “I’m gonna–“

There is no time– you throw up all over your bed, and you feel hands moving quickly to pull your hair back, another drawing circles on your back, but you need it to stop, you need distance, you need quiet.

“No, no no no,” You say weakly, pushing the hands away and shutting your eyes tight. “No, don’t touch me, don’t– please, please don’t touch me.”

You can still her that man’s voice on your ear, his tone, his suggestions. The disgust that hits you is enough to drive you out of your mind, hands rubbing your skin furiously, wanting all traces of him gone, all traces of her gone.

“Hold her!” Seungmin screams, grabbing one of your arms. “My Queen, you’ll open your wounds! Don’t–“

“Y/N!” Minho’s voice is the only one that makes past the cloudy haze tainting your mind. “My love, Y/N, what is happening?”

You freeze. This is the first time Minho says that; love. And as much as you want to enjoy it, to bask in the moment of hearing that word you’ve been waiting to hear for so long from him, all you can think is her. And her leaving his room. And if he said those words to her, too.

“Get out,” You whisper, pushing yourself away from both of them. “Call Chan. And leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving you unattended,” Minho says, and the voice he uses, the one he uses on everyone else when he orders them around, is enough to have you glaring at him. “I’m your husband. I’m staying with you.”

“I don’t need a husband right now,” You hiss at him. “I need my family.” “I am your family!”

“No, you are not!” You bite back, sobbing. “Wait here if you must, my King, but only until the Commander arrives. And then leave. Please.”

“W-What do you mean…?” He frowns.

“Minho.”

The sharp intake of breath is enough to have shivers running up and down your spine.

“My family would never ask me to die for them,” You sniffle, and when you look at him all you see is hurt. “They would die for me instead.”

Chan comes in right after, and only after the door closes you allow yourself to mourn. You cry for the love you gave away so freely to a man that wanted nothing but your willingness to die for him, and you cry for your fragile heart that breaks in two. You cry for the life you didn’t live; one that you might’ve found another love, one that loved you back, and you cry for the family that you’ll never have, that you refuse to have. You cry, but it’s too late now.

This is your fate.

So face it.

“You’re really marrying him,” Chan muses, guarding the door as your maids finish garnishing your hair. Everyone’s fixation is on your appearance, so much so that they miss the small daggers on your thigh. They have to make you pretty for the King, they say; he needs to finds you absolutely ravishing for the nuptial night. Just the thought of it makes your palms sweat.

“I really am,” You answer, offering him a small smile. “Can you believe it? You promise you’d always protect me when we were five, and now it is your official duty to see that you carry that promise to the grave.”

“And to the grave I will carry it,” His smile is true and dimpled and you heart aches at the thought of having to watch your best friend possibly go into battle. “My Queen.”

“Oh, god, no,” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “Don’t call me that when it’s just us, Chan. We are family.”

“As you wish,” He jokingly bow to you. “Your Majesty.”

“Oh god…” You laugh, and for the rest of the afternoon, Chan takes it upon himself to make you laugh as much as possible; to remind you of a time when everything was merry, and easy, and free.

It’s a beautiful sound, your laugh; and Minho closes his eyes as he washes himself in the sound, on the other side of the door.

“What’s going on with you?” Chan murmurs. For the first time in forever you see him without his official royal uniform. He is wearing an old shirt, and you recognize it from the stain– it was his dad’s old shirt, the one you dropped grape juice on when you were just three. You didn’t know he held on that all this time, but just the sight of it makes your eyes water. “Hm? What is going on, Y/N?”

“He doesn’t love me,” You murmur, quietly crying like you’ve done ever since you moved to the castle months ago.

“What do you mean?” Chan frowns, and gets up, moving to go sit next to you on the bed. Your hands grab the hem os his shirt, playing with it was you finally allow yourself to rid your body of the raging frustration trapped within. “He married you, Y/N. Out of all the ladies in the kingdom, he chose you. I think that says a lot.”

“It says he wanted something from me,” You say, rolling your eyes. His hands are gentle on your cheeks, wiping away the tears even though his efforts are futile– you can’t stop crying.

“And what did he want from you?” The intonation of his voice is enough to know he is suspicious.

“Protection,” You whisper, and only then you gather enough courage to look him in the eyes. “Minho was in danger, and… and I helped him. And he called me the next week, remember? He called me to the castle, you were the one that came to fetch me and he needed protection. There were many attempts on his life, Chan, and although he has a whole army, he needed someone more discreet. And he thought I could be that someone.”

“I- no, that’s not… what?”

It hurts you to see him like that, eyes wide, mouth hanging, but he needs to know. You could’ve died and he would never know why, but this can’t happen again; he needs to know.

“The assassin that went after the King last month,” You gulp. “I was the one that… dealt with it. He is capable, but he can’t put himself in danger like that– Chan! Where are you going?”

“And you can?!” He shouts. You expected this. You expected anger and frustration, but you really need him right now, you can’t be alone. “You can risk your life for a man you don’t even love?”

“I do love him.”

This is the only thing that appeases him.

“I… I love him very much, actually,” You whisper, too ashamed to look up from your hands. “It started a couple of months ago, and… I am not certain why, Chan, but he is a very good king– he treats the servants well, and-and he truly is loved by his people, and he is good. He is good and I just– I just wish he’d be good like that to me, too.”

“Things can change,” Chan breathes out. “He can change. You… you didn’t see him when you were unconscious, but I did. Y/N, I do think he loves you, I truly do but… I think he hasn’t realized it yet. Things haven’t been easy for the King. He’s protected himself as long as I can remember, always deploying the army to protect his people.”

“Chan–“

“I believe he loves you,” Your friend says. “But I also believe he doesn’t know how to love you.”

“My wife at last,” Minho smiles, guiding you across the dance floor. With him, things are easy– his smile make it so everything is easy.

“Indeed I am,” You smile back, and for the night, just for your wedding night, you’ll allow yourself to pretend. To pretend you’re in love; to pretend you are loved. “Can’t back out now, my King.”

“Wouldn’t dare even if I wanted to,” He snort, and you love these moments, the ones that he allows himself the casualness of life. “You are lethal, my dear wife.”

“So are you, my dear husband,” You raise your brows. “I believe I remember certain twin blades on these same hands that hold me, right now.”

“I am sure you must’ve been confused,” He laughs. His eyes disappear under the giddiness of his smile and you enjoy the moment to caress his face. “I am helpless without my Queen.”

Minho finds you in the gardens. You are dressed in strange clothes, men clothes, and something inside twists. The way you move your hands graciously through the large flowers is enough to have him walking to you, making himself announced with his heavy steps. The sun shines particularly bright on your face once you turn around to look at him, and he swears you look angelic, everything about you screaming innocence.

“Okay, that is enough Y/N,” Minho breaths out, frustration driving him over the edge. He moves from where he is standing to kneel in front of you, and, oddly enough, it bring you back to a fond memory of him in this same position, sitting you on his throne. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but you are my wife. We are bound together by sacred matrimony, in which I vowed to take care of you, to protect and love you–“

“Love me?” You mumble, and there is something wrong once your eyes meet his. It’s almost like you don’t see him; like he is a ghost which you look straight past. “Love me, Minho? Do you love me?”

“Of cour–”

“That woman in your room,” You interrupt him, and you are very aware of your position; if you had not married the King, uttering a word in his direction could mean death. But as his wife, you have the power to interrupt him, to argue with him, to ask things of him– and yet, you still can’t gather the courage to simply talk to him. “If she had sneaked in, I would’ve noticed. I would’ve heard her, especially considering how you keep your windows closed at night. They creak, you know? Loudly. That’s why, usually, invaders will look for an easier entrance… like an open in the room next door.”

“Is… Is that why you leave you room’s window open?” He gasps. “To reroute them to an easier entrance?”

“Not an easier entrance,” You shake your head, and you finally focus on him, eyes on fire with anger, with rage. “Me. I manipulate their way towards me, so that if there is an attempt to someone’s life, it will be mine.”

“Y/N–“

“Tell me,” The way your voice wavers is enough to have him in high alert, desperately scrambling to try and get closer to you. “How did she get in your room? If not sneaking through the obvious entrance, how would she get in, my King… unless. Unless you invited her yourself?”

“No, that’s… I mean–“

“On our wedding day, I signed my life away,” You tell him, voice growing louder by the word. “I gave myself to you– body and soul– and all I asked back was your loyalty. You remember that? You remember the promise you made me, Lee Minho?”

“I do. I promised you I would never humiliate you,” He recites, frowning at the memory of you in a wedding gown, eyes wide as you listened to his words carefully. The kingdom was unaware, but you two signed the contract in front of them all. “I would never displease you, and I would never betray you. I would protect, love, cherish and care for you. I would do my best.”

“So now I ask, is this your best?”

“No.”

“Then did you lie to me?” You walk to him, finger poking his chest persistently. “Did you lie?!”

“No!” He shouts, taking a step closer, and you don’t feel fear– you could never fear him. Not him, with the hands that held you so close during your wedding; not him, with the mouth that smiles down at you in the most random of times; not him, that promised you the world, even if just for appearances. “I would never lie to you!”

“Then how did she–“

“I invited her!”

You had a hunch, but the confession is practically a slap to your face.

“Her name… her name is Adeline,” He sighs, eyes watery and full of regret. “We grew up together, much like you and Chan. She is the daughter of one of the old cooks; my parents allowed their children on the grounds so that I would have friends, you know? Her and I were really close, until I hit a certain age, and my training begun. Father had big plans for me, so he had to be harsh, I understand that but… he pulled me away from everyone. Adeline did not take well to the news and she– she was only trying to help, but she talked to Mother and the next thing I know they are being sent away and–“

Minho rubs his face with his hands, breathing deeply to regulate himself.

“The war hit and it was time for me to take over. I got used to how things were, so I just carried on like that, but it… it was hard. I was practically a kid, I was desperate and alone, so I reached out to her. Her words were familiar and comforting and it became a habit– whenever rough times were ahed, I’d rely on her. She knows be better than anyone, and I think she might’ve misunderstood my intentions. I got a letter… on our wedding day. She was angry and disappointed and I felt guilty and so I just kept writing.”

“What would you two talk about?” Jealousy is a foreign feeling for you, considering you’ve never had much to be jealous over. Yet you feel it as if it has been born with you, as if it controlled you whole. You hate a woman you never met and not for the right reasons– not for an attempt to your life, but for an attempt to seduce your husband.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N, we–“

“It matters to me!” You cry out. Surprised with yourself, you cover your mouth with your hands, looking away from him. But he heard you– loud and clear– and he is not about to let this go.

“Why?” Minho questions, taking another step closer, until he can feel the warmth from your body touching his. “Why would you care?”

“Because you won’t let me in your chambers, but you invited her in,” Defeated, you let your hands fall down. Everything that’s been bothering you, suddenly race to the front, and all the nights you spent crying, all the injuries you’ve received in his stead, all the comments about who you are… it’s all too much. “You barely talk to me, but you write to her constantly! You push me away just to pull to her closer– should I continue?!”

It’s another cold night in the castle. Another lonely, dark night in which the wind blows so violently that the trees whispers secrets that weren’t for the random ear; the windows rattled and the doors creaked, and it all sounded much like a song– on a that you would never dance to. In your room, the candle is still lit, and you shiver under your covers, pulling them up past your neck and just above your nose. Once again, your husband refused to join you in sleep, as much as you tried to change his mind, and you have to brave the night by yourself.

The darkness is not your friend– someone like you doesn’t get to enjoy nighttime. You have more than enough training and enemies to be aware of what lurks in the shadows. People don’t take kindly to your abilities, and with the years, you’ve gathered a fair amount of people who might want to hurt you, but ever since you’ve became Queen, those people might just as well kill you. Your husband’s façade protectiveness is a curse in disguise, and anyone that might attempt an attack against you personally will have to be lethal, as to not leave any personal traces behind.

The windows rattle again and you whimper, scared. Your heart is racing with the just thought of an invasion. Even though you have absolute confidence in your skills and you know that you can protect yourself if need be, you don’t want to live looking over your shoulder; you want to be able to sleep in peace, without staying half awake in case of emergencies.

The wind sings again and this time, you cry over this sad, sad song.

“We talked about you.”

“You are a proper bastard, Lee Minho,” You feel sick. Your stomach turns and churns and you feel like you’re about to faint. “You truly are–“

“I told her I’m in love with you.”

Once you bring your hand up, you can’t bring it down– no matter how much you argue with yourself. You just can’t.

“I told her about us,” He closes his eyes, expecting to fuel you with enough anger to have you strike him across the face. You need this, and he deserves it. “That we keep each other at arm’s length, that we barely talk, that we–

“And how did that result in her entering you sleeping quarters?” If you hear one more fault in your relationship, you think you’ll break. You’ll give up. And you can’t give up, not now, not when you two are finally talking.

“She wrote to me saying she was passing through the village on her way East. I told her to come visit.”

“At night?!”

“It’s the only time that you are not next to me,” He mumbles, hands behind himself, holding back the want to reach out and bring you closer and closer and closer until you are practically one. “And I didn’t want her next to you. I know about her feelings for me, she makes them plenty obvious, and I did not want her to shred the little trust you have in me.”

“And how do you think that is working for you, my King?” Your voice is pure venom. “How do you think that shred of trust is dealing?”

“It is not, I know that, okay?!”

“Do you, Minho?” You cry out, and you fist finds his chest. And then again. And again. And you hit him until you con’t have the energy to do so anymore, but it doesn’t help; you don’t feel better, you just feel tired. “How could you do this to me? She almost killed me! She almost killed you! Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t leave you,” Minho whispers, frowning as the image of your bloody gown comes back to mind. “And because I wouldn’t take her as my lover. Adeline was under the false belief that once the time came, I would take her as my Queen. That I was in love with her.”

“Wasn’t you?”

“I loved her,” He explains. “Like you love Chan. Like family love each other… or at least like I thought family was supposed to love each other. I don’t have much experience in the area, but that is what I imagined having a sister was like. Adeline, on the other hand, had envisioned us a future.”

“You love her,” You nod, and this is the first time you two reach an understanding. “But you are not in love with her.”

“Yes…” A puff of air escapes him and you feel it in your face, and you reach a point in which you are not sure if it is rage that still bubbled inside you, or desire. “I am sorry, Y/N. I truly am– all your injuries, all your pain… it is all because of me.”

“No–“

“Yes!” The hold on your shoulders only bring you closer and you close your eyes, feeling his lips brush yours as he speaks. “It is! I– she barely hurt me, but you; God, Y/N, you were stabbed! You had blood all over you! You were unconscious for days and all I could do was sit by you and cry, begging whatever is out there to wake you up! I… I never felt so powerless in my life.”

“Don’t be foolish,” You frown, hand moving to cradle his face. “You’re the most powerful man I know, Lee Minho.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Your husband whispers. “When it comes to you, I’m as powerless at the next man… I am simply at your service, my Queen.”

You hold your breath as he leans closer, and, when he kisses you, it is all very familiar.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Those words will haunt you for the rest of your life. The way Minho’s eyes bulge slightly in surprise, since he’s clearly forgotten about this step in the confirmation of your union, so you take the lead. With a rehearsed giggle, you offer him a gentle pull, hand gripping his so harshly that you would not be surprise if it stopped his blood flow.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, nosing your cheek in a false adoring motion. The kingdom is watching, you remind yourself, and you raise your hand to back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair that escapes his heavy crown.

“Yes, my King,” You whisper back, and for the first time, you notice you’re shaking.

When his lips touch yours for the first time, it’s simple. It’s a light touch, and you’ve heard about this kind of kiss; the ones the maidens in the village talk about when they tell tales of their escapades. The Teasing Kiss, they called it, and you’ve never really understood what they meant until that moment. Until he pulled away, your mouth chasing his and wanting more. And then he kisses you again, coming right back, and the cheers and screams from the thousands of people watching you two gets drowned out by the increased pressure, the increased need. His lips are faster, more desperate, and it’s almost like they search for something within you, coaching an answer out of you, and the best way you can give him what he want is to give him what he wants. You follow his lead, and you are not sure for how long the two of you push, and pull, and give, and take, and it’s only when the priest coughs uncomfortably that you focus enough to pull away.

“Now please,” Minho says, even though he is still breathless and shocked. “Bow down to my Queen.”

His hand is in yours, guiding you through the hallways you’ve gotten so used to walk alone. You don’t know how to feel; you don’t know what to do. You’ve never imagined this possible, but he seems to be in such a hurry that you barely have time to gather you thoughts before you’re being led inside his chambers; before you are being sat down in his bed and he is moving quickly around the spacious quarters. Your eyes follow him, the sun shining through the window and hitting his back, and you can see his muscles through his shirt. You are distracted for a second, but once he opens the doors of his wardrobes you feel your heart stop– your eyes prickle with tears at the sight of an almost empty space. Only a few shirts and britches in view, and you start to wonder if he truly sleeps in this room.

“Wha–“

“Here you go, my Queen,” Minho mumbles shyly, face tainted red. His hands give you a set of clothes to change, and you frown at him, confused. “You can dress in mine instead… if you’d like, of course.”

“Thank you,” You mumble, blinking up at him. Your hands are slow, and you even dare to smile at him, now blushing yourself.

In hopes to escape from his intense gaze, you look around, and everything seems normal; desk full of unsigned decrees, a couple of painting by his wall, a small pile of dirty laundry to be taken by the maids. Typical to men’s fashion, he seems truly embarrassed by his lack of royal behavior in the privacy of his own chambers, and you her him muttering something as he quickly moves around, hiding his dirty clothes in the empty wardrobe and moving to tidy his bed. His large, wide bed. With only one messy side.

“Do you even sleep here?” You joke, getting up from where you sit.

“O-Of course!” His nervous stammering is endearing to you. “Where else would I sleep?”

“It’s just… only one side seems slept on,” You feel as ridiculous as you probably sound, standing next to him while hugging his clothes and pointing to his bed. You feel almost childish.

“Ah, yes, well,” Long ago you’ve learned that your husband and the King are two distinct people. It was obvious from the way he behaved, sometimes, and you might’ve been biased, but you preferred your husband. You love your husband. “That’s my side of the bed. The other side is… well, is yours.”

“But you never let me sleep in here,” You worry that you are whining, pouting, and you straighten your back, composing yourself.

“I didn’t want to force you into a loveless marriage,” His hands move to grabs yours, pulling you closer to him. The way he looks at your clothes is enough to have him sighing in frustration and you chuckle, amused at this new found behavior of his. “Didn’t want to disgrace you by making you lay next to a man you don’t love.”

“But I do love you,” You say, and the way his head shoots up, eyes searching yours and then simply staring, is enough to make your knees buckle. Thankfully he has his hands around your waist now, body pushing against yours until your back is on the wall, shivering in contact with the cold surface. “I’ve asked to sleep here before, I’ve asked to–“

“I thought you were simply trying to appease me,” He shakes his head, desperately trying to argue in your defense. His hair falls over his eyes and you really, really want to reach out and push it away– you want him to see you, you want his to see all of you. “I thought… I thought you were trying to keep up appearances.”

“The night terrifies me,” You whisper as your head cocks to the side, voice wavering as tears roll down under the relief of finally dragging this out of your chest. “The dark a-and the silent, and b-being alone, it’s all too much, Minho. I’m scared all the time! I never know when someone will appear in front of me with a knife or attempt to poison my food! I never know when will be the last time I see Chan, or my parents, or– or you! I know you married me in search for personal protection and I am confident in my abilities, I swear I am, but I am so, so scared.”

“Why did you never mention this to me?” His voice breaks and you can’t believe how hurt he looks. “I’m your husband, my love, I am here to soothe you and calm you. I am here to protect you even if that costs me my life.”

“Then what would be your use for me?” You shrug, looking down in shame. “Why would you need me?”

“Because I love you,” His mouth covers your gently, giving you a quick kiss. “Because I need you,” Another one. “Because you are my Queen and I am your King.”

“I love you,” You tell him again, holding his face in your hands. “I love you so much.”

“Let me protect you,” He but begs, eyes pouring out more emotion than you’ve ever seen. “You don’t have to watch over your shoulder anymore; you don’t have to fear the dark, my love, because I will be laying right next to you, and I’ll hold you in my arms until you feel safe enough to sleep. I… I was an idiot, and for that I apologize. For that and so much more, but I am sorry for putting you in such position, I should’ve never done that. I should’ve been a better husband– a proper husband.”

You say nothing, too overwhelmed by his sudden change.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” The smile that blooms in his lips has you sighing in happiness. “Starting now.”

“Welcome to the family, my darling,” Minho’s mother smiles as he introduces her to you. It is the first time you meet the former Queen, and you see parts of your husband in her face– you see his smile in hers, and hints of the way his eyes disappear under such smile, just like hers.

“Thank you, my Queen,” You bow down respectfully, afraid to look into her eyes in case there is a mistaken understanding of defiance. You know how the power succession happens, and you know the resentment that can linger once it’s gone– all that power, all those riches. And the last thing you want is to cross your new mother-in-law.

“Look at me, my Queen,” Her voice is cold like ice, and once her fingers touch your chin, you feel as if it almost burns. “Ah. Just as I thought…”

“I–“

“You’ll do well,” She whispers. “You’re strong. He needs someone strong… he’s been strong by himself for too long, now.”

Waking up next to your husband is everything you’ve imagined it would be. His arms, tight and secure around your waist, reminds you that from now on, you won’t be alone. You won’t be alone during the day, and you won’t be alone during the nights, because now you truly have a husband; one that loves you, and adores you, and one that you love and care for back.

The night went by too fast, is what you conclude as you notice him stirring awake; you could still hear him whispering all about the days he felt he had to keep you at arms length, and you just now realize how much attention he payed while you were in your own world, floating around in your head. He tells you about the day you wore the deep red dress, and how beautiful you looked; he talks about the week he spent getting your garden ready, hoping to not ruin the surprise; he talks about how sometimes he used to– and still does– gets jealous of Chan, and of all the memories he has with you, and all the intimacy you two share, and all the laughs, the smiles, the hugs. He wanted it all– he still wants it all.

And now he can finally have it.

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aaaaahhh I’ve had this saved on my computer for so long now and I finally decided to post it :D King!Minho really does it for me 🤡❤️ what do you think of this one my lovelies? Let me know! Share, comment, help a struggling writer lol as always, thank you so much for your support <3 means the world!!!

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