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#and now that she’s gone I’m still forced to be around even though it makes me so uncomfortable
tinyluvs · 1 year
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Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it
i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*
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the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad
“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”
rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest
you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head
your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”
he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you
“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you
stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues
you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”
“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out
a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude
rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours
“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest
he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”
you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk
“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”
rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”
sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs
still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”
“because what?”
he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck
“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you
puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics
you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple
he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit
“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.
his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.
“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it
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thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!
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iznsfw · 2 months
Text
Reputation, Or Whatever That Is
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung
IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut
7,063 words
Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities
Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.
Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK
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It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 
You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.
But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?
Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—
Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.
Wonyoung. 
It’s all because of her. 
She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.
You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 
Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.
You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 
There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—
Remember to exhale.
So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.
A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 
hey, it reads, you need to—
-
—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 
There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.
The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 
You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”
Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.
She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”
Slide your ID card on the counter.
She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 
She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.
Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.
Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.
“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”
Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.
The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.
Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 
Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.
Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.
“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.
She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.
Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”
Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.
“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”
You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 
To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.
“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”
You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.
The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 
“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 
Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”
Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.
“Look here, we—”
You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 
Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.
“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”
You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.
“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”
She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 
“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?
Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 
It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.
“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”
Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 
Deception can’t lead you away. 
“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 
Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.
“You liked it.”
“What?”
She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”
What the hell is she talking about?
You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—
The heart. 
Wait.
The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.
Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.
Fuck.
You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.
Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 
“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.
She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 
“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”
You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 
Something else is, too.
“Then, of course, you see me.” 
Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.
It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.
“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”
It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.
Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.
“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”
Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 
You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.
Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”
That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.
You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:
You. 
Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 
And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 
So, it’s still so wrong.
Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 
Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 
“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”
Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.
Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 
So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:
Blame it all on her. 
Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.
“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”
Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 
She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.
“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 
With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.
“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 
Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.
She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.
Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.
Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.
The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.
Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 
Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 
“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.
She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.
All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 
That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”
Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.
“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 
“What’s wrong with you?” 
You’d respond if you knew the answer.
Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”
All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.
“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”
You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 
Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.
It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 
You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 
“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 
Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 
“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 
“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 
Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?
You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.
Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.
The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”
“Shit, god, I can’t—”
Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 
Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.
Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.
She really could be a good girl.
“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”
Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.
You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”
She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.
She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 
Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 
Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.
If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.
“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.
You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 
Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.
“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”
“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”
You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.
“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”
Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 
What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.
“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”
“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”
You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 
You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.
“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”
Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 
The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 
“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”
You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.
She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 
She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.
“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”
“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.
Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.
Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.
She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”
Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 
She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”
To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.
She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.
“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 
You can do nothing except nod.
“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”
She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.
Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.
And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 
“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”
You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 
“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”
You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 
You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”
“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”
She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 
Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 
You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.
Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.
-
Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 
That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 
“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 
“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”
Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.
“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”
1K notes · View notes
tayyytayyy12 · 3 months
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All of the boys you loved before.
Summary - Reader and Oscar are happy, but when readers ex comes forward with a false statement, Oscar shows that he will always believe her.
Pairing- Oscar Piastri x Singer!reader
Genre - Angst, fluff, smau
Warnings - Swearing, toxic ex, false cheating accusations.
Face clam - Sabrina Carpenter
Notes - This is a part of my Oscar x Nonsense series, reader is completely nameless but it’s a bunch of works linked back to the same couple, no particular order to read them in, but if you are interested, I’ll link the masterlist here.
ItsYn
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ItsYn - Meeting Oscar was one of the most, memorable, loving, and dare I say enchanting (iykyk) nights of my life. Since then, not a day has gone by where I didn’t have someone to love, and someone to be loved by, unconditionally. I love you for supporting my music, I love you for giving me more situations to write songs like ‘stargirl’ about, and I love you for staying by my side through all of Landos and I’s endless havoc. I love you Oscar Piastri.
Happy three year anniversary. I’ve loved you three summers now hunny, but I want them all. To make this day more special for the both of us, I wrote a song, she’s called ‘Lover’ and I wrote it alone, I love you so so so much.
OscarPiastri - I love you more than I ever though was humanly possible.
- ItsYn - I’m going to cry.
- LandoNorris - Me too.
User82 - Her thanking him for giving her reasons to write more songs like stargirl is so real. Like, that’s how we all feel.
User89 - How has it been three years since Y/n and Y/ex/n broke up 😭😭
- User29 - I’m still not over it.
- User73 - Girl he cheated on her, belittled her, and now she’s found someone who loves her for her and you ‘miss y/ex/n’ grow up.
User28 - THE SONG ‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WILL YOU PLEASE STAND WITH EVERY GUITAR STRING SCAR IN MY HAND I TAKE THIS MAGNETIC FORCE OF A MAN TO BE MY LOVER’ YOU CAN HEAR THE SMILE AS SHE SINGS. NSJEJWKS.
Y/ex/n
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Y/ex/n - Read.
User92 - Wait, what?
User828 - No way she did this and thought it would never come out.
User928 - He jealous people can’t you see! She’s happy, and he rounded their relationship, he actually said, ‘do you want a girl who’s been passed around’ like, that reeks toxicity.
Messages
Lando & reader
Norizz🤍 - I’m so so sorry.
Vocal coach 🩵 - Sorry? For what lol.
Norizz 🤍 - You haven’t seen?
Vocal coach 🩵 - No seen what Lan? You’re scaring me.
Norizz 🤍 - It’s Y/ex/n, Y/n, he posted online that you cheated and manipulated him. It’s gone viral.
Vocal Coach 🩵- No no no.
- Lan I didn’t do that
- Lan I swear
- I would never cheat
- He cheated in me I swear
Norizz - 🤍I know that, love don’t worry.
Vocal coach🩵- It’s been three years why would he do this now? Why now when I’m happy and his words have finally left me the fuck alone.
- what about Oscar?
- Oh god.
- No no no no
- He’s gonna hate me
- What if he leaves me Lan
Norizz 🤍- Calm down
- He won’t leave you.
- I’m getting my team to fix this okay?
- You did nothing wrong and the world needs to know that.
- I’ll handle this.
- Go talk to him okay?
Vocal coach 🩵 - Okay.
Messages
Oscar & reader
Stargirl 🤍 - I’m so so so so sorry.
- I swear it’s not true.
- I would never do that.
- Even if I did, which I didn’t, I would never ever ever cheat on you.
- I love you too much.
Nonsense boy 🤍 - Calm down love I know.
- I’m on my way to you now.
- I Know you would never do this okay, don’t worry.
- He’s a fucking scum. Trust me, me and Lando are working on it.
Stargirl 🤍 - I’m really sorry,
Nonsense boy 🤍 - No. you don’t have a reason to be sorry.
- We’re not gonna think about it okay?
- I’m gonna get there and we’re gonna watch one if your favourite films.
- It’ll all be okay I swear.
- and if it makes you feel even the slightest but better, all of the boys you loved before, made you the string and wonderful girl I’ve fallen for.
Stargirl 🤍 - What did I do to deserve you?
OscarPiastri
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OscarPiastri- This is never something I though I’d have to address, but, here we are. Y/n, has never, ever, manipulated, cheated, or lied to me. She is the kindest, most generous giving soul I have ever met. I’m normally quite a ‘chill’ guy, adoring to the internet, but when it comes to the woman I love, it’s different. Y/ex/n’s accusations are completely false. And if you didn’t believe us, we have proof, unlike him. We have endless text chains, voicemails, and letters of him being to Y/n exactly what he described she was. She is the one star in a night in pure darkness and she would never hurt anyone.
Y/n, remember always, that to me, you will never be ‘used’ or ‘passed around’, remember that all of the boys you loved before made the the one I’ve fallen for, I love you forever.
ItsYn - I love you more.
- OscarPiastri- Impossible.
LandoNorris - Cuties.
𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥.
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moonstruckme · 6 months
Note
Ok James but him and his slytherin girlfriend seem to come out of nowhere and the boys are supportive but are more mad at James for not telling them? Idk I loved your other fic SO MUCH
Thanks for requesting <3
part 1
cw: mention of injury, no details or anything though
James Potter x Slytherin!reader ♡ 1.5k words
You hesitate outside the doorway to the infirmary at the raised voices coming from inside. 
You don’t need to be here, strictly speaking. James told you his injury wasn’t bad, and he has his friends to help him if he needs it, but…you can’t settle yourself down. You hadn’t liked the way he’d limped off the field, nor the tiny grimace on his face when Sirius had wrapped a bracing arm under his shoulders. It would be just like James to downplay how hurt he is to make you feel better, and the longer the game had gone on without him the more your guts twisted themselves into knots over the idea that he was in pain. 
You’d seethed at yourself and your stupid soft heart all the way to the infirmary, where now you’re frozen just outside like a coward. Something inside you is coiled tight with tension at the idea of going to see James Potter, on purpose and in public, even though that’s dumb because now everyone at Hogwarts knows about the two of you anyway. Your sappy display on the quidditch pitch made sure of that. But now that you have official and widely-known claim to the girlfriend title, you have just as much right to see him as anyone else. You shove your anxiety back into your stomach where it belongs and open the door. 
As soon as you’re inside, the voices become clearer. “—like this isn’t a big deal. The Prophet’s going to be all over the two of you by tomorrow, and we had to find out with every other fucking bloke at the school!”
“Pads, you don’t think I would have told you if I could?” James sounds exhausted, and something mutinous throbs in your heart. It’s followed quickly by the more familiar twinge of irritation at the use of those moronic nicknames they all have. “She made me promise not to tell anyone, including the both of you.” 
They’re talking about you. Of course they’re talking about you. What else could possibly be more important after James has fallen a good twenty feet off his broom than his dating life? This is why you hadn’t wanted to tell people. Hogwarts wears away at private lives like dementors at souls, and the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is too strong for your relationship with James to have any hope of remaining untainted once the gossip mill got ahold of it. 
Your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and leave before they catch sight of you, but you force yourself to keep walking. If you start letting what people think about you and James affect you now, you’ll never be able to get past it. 
Remus is the first to spot you, going still as if you’ve come to hex him, but James’ face splits into a lopsided grin that has the knots in your gut loosening very slightly. 
“Especially you,” you say to Sirius as you brush past him, perching by James' pillow and weaving your fingers into his curls. There’s a wrap around his middle. It’s very hard to appear calm and blasé when you feel like you’re going to rupture something if he doesn't promise you he’s okay right this instant. “You’d have had all of Gryffindor talking about us within an hour.” 
Sirius bristles but visibly shoves his temper aside, his voice matching your coolness as he says, “If I’d told anyone, Y/L/N, it would have been to inquire about whether anyone’s noticed you gathering ingredients for amortentia recently. James doesn’t keep things from us. Artificial infatuation is the only explanation for why he’d tolerate you and your secrets.” 
“Oi,” James says, but you pat his head placatingly. You can fight your own battles. 
“That how you got this one?” you jut your chin towards Remus, who’s looking somewhat entertained as he watches the two of you spar. “If I’m ever in need of the recipe, Black, you’ll be the first person I come to, but I don’t need to resort to such measures myself.” 
Sirius glowers at you, and James sets his hand on your shoulder just as Remus wraps a pacifying arm around his boyfriend. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the taller boy says in his usual calm manner, and though Sirius is still tensed for a fight, he allows himself to be drawn into Remus’ side.
James nods in agreement. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, really. I thought I’d get a chance to before everyone found out, but…” He turns up his palms helplessly. “Things didn’t go as planned.” 
“We’ll get over it,” Remus says, Sirius quietly fuming beside him. “Won’t we, love?”
Sirius looks up at Remus' face, which is clearly a mistake, because he softens like butter in the sun. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a bit,” he grumbles halfheartedly. “Anything to keep our Prongsie happy, right?”
James beams, so clearly relieved at the settlement of the conflict that you feel a bit guilty for participating in it. He kisses you on the cheek, chuckling against your skin. “You stink.” 
“Some of us stuck around to play the whole game,” you reply.
“Ouch,” James says, but he’s grinning. “Couldn’t really help that, could I?”
You give him a look to let him know you haven’t forgotten how his negligence had gotten him hurt. “Debatable.” 
You hear Remus chuckle but don’t take your eyes off James’ face, inspecting it for signs of the pain you suspect he’s hiding. “How bad is it really?” you ask, softening your voice even though there’s no chance of his friends not hearing you. 
James worries his lip, big brown eyes looking into yours guiltily. “Pomphrey says I broke three ribs and bruised my tailbone pretty badly. Minor concussion, too, but nothing serious.” 
Sounds serious enough to you. You ghost a hand over the back of his head as if you’ll be able to find and fix his hurt. He leans into your palm though, so it’s not for nothing. “I’m sorry I walked away out there,” you all but whisper. “I should have stayed with you.” 
James eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he promises just as softly. He knows what it costs you to talk like this in front of people, like you’re turning yourself inside out for them to judge and stab at as they please, but James has no such reservations. He dots a kiss, feather-light, at the top of your cheekbone, wrapping an arm around you protectively. “Thanks for coming, I mean it.” 
You clear your throat. “Yeah, and in my fucking quidditch gear,” you say in your normal voice, attempting to banish the heavy mood. As if your heart isn’t still beating, hummingbird-fast and fragile, in your throat. “We both need to change and shower, and then you should rest. Did Pomphrey say you could leave?”
James nods, still looking at you like you’ve cracked open in his hands (he might be right; it feels like you have, and it wouldn’t even be the first time today). He rubs your upper arm affectionately, but his voice is easygoing when he says, “Yup, I’m good to go.” 
Sirius steps forward, as though to remind the two of you that he is, in fact, also present. “Great. We’ll walk you back to the room.” 
You turn to him, not quite ready for your time with James to be up and aching for the opportunity to dote on him in private. “That’s okay, I can take him.” 
Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You can’t even get into our dorms.” 
“Please, like Gryffindor’s riddles are so perplexing.” 
“I don’t need an escort,” James interjects. He pushes himself up with a grimace. 
You halt him with your hands on his shoulders and Remus says, “Don’t be stupid, Prongs, you can barely walk.” 
“I’ve got him,” you say firmly. Sirius stares you down, but you don’t flinch from his stony gaze. You know he doesn’t trust you. You don’t think he’d willingly trust any Slytherin. Since you’ve been at Hogwarts, the talk in your house has always been that Sirius Black shuns his family because they’re all Slytherins. Although James assures you there’s more to the story than that, it’s still obvious to anyone that he considers his friends his true family. He won’t entrust just anyone with James’ safety. But maybe that’s one thing you can agree upon. 
He must see something of this in your face, because after a minute Sirius relents, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I wanted to stop by the kitchens anyway.”
James is looking between the two of you curiously, aware that something has transpired but not quite sure what. 
You don’t give Sirius a chance to change his mind. “Alright,” you say, gripping James' forearms and helping him to stand. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 
James drapes his arm across your shoulders gamely, and the two of you start out the door. “I don’t think that’s the insult you think it is.”
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chelseeebe · 2 months
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everything has changed
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you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.
i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition
18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe
‎♡‧₊˚
“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.
“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”
steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.
you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.
-
life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.
it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.
you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.
and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.
steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.
he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.
“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.
he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.
“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.
“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.
robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.
-
they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.
steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.
she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.
“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.
she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.
robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.
it’s you.
the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.
“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.
“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.
you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.
“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.
you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.
“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.
“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.
“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.
“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.
“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.
“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.
he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.
your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.
plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.
steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.
he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”
he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.
“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.
you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”
steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.
“no!” they chime in unison.
“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.
“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.
“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.
he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.
“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.
you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.
there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.
especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.
he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.
and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.
fuck.
-
steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.
you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.
“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.
you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.
“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.
it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.
“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.
“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.
you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”
he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.
“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.
“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.
“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.
“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”
you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.
“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.
his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.
“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.
“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.
you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.
as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.
“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.
that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.
“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.
“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.
he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.
you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.
“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.
“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.
you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.
the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.
katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.
“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.
katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.
“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?
he can’t decide.
“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.
he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.
“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.
“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.
“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.
they really don’t.
in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.
the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.
everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.
steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.
“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.
“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.
you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.
“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.
sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.
like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.
“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.
“of course,” returning the smile.
he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.
-
it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.
she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?
“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.
you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.
“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.
“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.
you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.
that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.
“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.
you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.
there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.
not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.
“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.
“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.
you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.
he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.
-
except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.
you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.
“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.
steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”
“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.
“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.
“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.
he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”
the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.
“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.
“absolutely.”
-
there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.
you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.
maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.
“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.
there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.
steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.
“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.
“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.
“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.
you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.
its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.
“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”
he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.
he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.
studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.
you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.
two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.
you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.
steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.
he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.
he’s not sure it ever will again.
fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.
he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.
katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.
it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.
steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.
she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.
it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.
nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.
“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.
“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”
katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.
“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.
“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?
unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.
“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.
he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.
“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”
steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?
he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.
there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.
at least now.
-
steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.
“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.
“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”
“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”
“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.
“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”
“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”
steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.
“..yeah.”
“well there you go!” she shrieks.
“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.
“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.
“well it felt right.”
the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”
“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”
she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”
he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?
“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.
“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.
he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.
his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.
it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.
-
steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.
no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.
you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.
there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.
they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.
but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.
“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.
“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.
“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.
he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.
steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.
you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.
he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.
your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.
“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.
he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.
his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.
in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.
there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.
“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.
steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.
you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.
-
he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.
a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.
he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.
she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.
steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.
501 notes · View notes
turtletaubwrites · 2 months
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Sweet Abduction ~ Part 1
Thank you anon for this super cute request! I loved the idea, and I hope you enjoy the fic!
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Pairings: Charlotte Katakuri x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4084
Ao3 Link
Summary: Times are tough, and you're afraid you'll have to give up the family business, until you find people who cherish your work. Who knew making doughnuts would gain you the attention of an Emperor of the Sea, and her second son? Will your new life be as sweet as it seemed?
Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Minor Violence (hardly anything, just being grabbed by the arms briefly), Kissing, No Smut, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world
A/N: Turns out Katakuri is over 16 ft tall. I stuck with canon, hope you don't mind! Please heed the tags! This is very sweet romance type fluff, but there is some kidnapping and shit, so be wary 😅
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Your body naturally woke you in the quiet, early morning light, but you still felt like you were in a bad dream.
After all your years of struggling to get by, of trying to make a living off the only skills you had, you still had nothing. You had kept your dad’s shop running, learning all you could, trying to honor his memory. But now that he’s gone, prepping these early mornings alone felt like losing him all over again.
Especially since hardly anyone in this town could afford to waste their berries on sweets.
Even buying ingredients for one day's batch was brutal.
I’m sorry, dad. I don’t want to sell your shop. Please, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.
You blinked back your tears as you started frying the morning's first batch of doughnuts.
Falling into your rhythm, you glazed and displayed each doughnut with care. Still taking pride in your work, you treated each pastry with love, even though they would probably be wasted. 
You gave a little yelp as the tiny bell on the shop’s door chimed.
Your mouth hung wide as you looked at the two potential customers. Shaking yourself, you greeted them, turning on your customer service charm.
‘The best way to keep a customer is to show them you really care.’
Your dad’s sweet voice filled your mind, and you smiled, genuinely hoping that these people would have a wonderful day. And that if they tried your doughnuts, it might make their day even brighter. 
The two strangers made their way to the display case, reviewing the little menu above the counter, and they asked you detailed questions that surprised you. 
You had been too busy trying to make sense of the colorful, almost outrageous way they dressed, that it took you a second to realize how excited they seemed to be here. 
They can’t be from around here. Everyone here is too poor to be that colorful.
You pinched your wrist at the sour thought, reminding yourself of your dad’s view of the world. He’d tell you to focus on the good things happening right now.
The two customers ordered four doughnuts each, and you carried their plates to the dingy little table in the corner, filling their cups with coffee.
The urge to stare was almost too powerful. It had been so long since someone new came to enjoy your work. 
They smacked their lips, and licked their fingers, and their bright eyes warmed your heart. 
‘There’s nothing better than watching someone enjoy the work you put your heart into.’ 
You cleared your throat, turning away from them as you wiped away a tear at your dad’s words in your mind.
“Ooh, Mama’s gonna enjoy this,” the taller one hissed in a mock whisper.
“Excuse me,” the other patron called, waving you over. 
You wiped flour off your hands, grabbing the pot of coffee. You felt their eyes on you, feeling examined as you refilled their cups.
“Is there anythi–”
“How would you like a sponsorship to open a shop in the sweetest capital of the world?”
“... I’m sorry. What did you–”
The tall one grabbed your wrist, eyes almost manic as he leaned toward you.
“We’re scouts, you see. We’re from Totto Land, and we’ve been looking for someone with your talents. Everything will be taken care of. We already have a doughnut shop that's just waiting for an artist like you.”
Your eyes were so wide it was almost painful, and part of you told you to run from these strangers. 
‘Don’t fight miracles, sweetheart. Sometimes good people really do get good things.’
“Okay,” you stuttered, following your dad’s advice one more time. 
You had heard the name Big Mom before, seen her wanted poster. She didn’t seem like a real person when you were struggling in your run down town. 
And you thought that Emperors of the Sea were meant to be terrifying, almost demonic. 
But here you were on her archipelago, her myriad of islands filled with so many happy people. So many people who love what you do.
It's surreal! 
You’d been given a doughnut shop on Komugi Island, along with a beautiful apartment above the shop. You wanted to explore and meet people, but you couldn’t think of closing the shop for even a day. 
All the ingredients you could dream of, equipment that you’d never seen before, and a dining area inside and outside with plenty of tables so you could enjoy the happy noises people made when they ate your doughnuts and pastries. 
It was heaven. It felt like your dad was there with you, kneading the dough, pouring the coffee. You could almost hear his laugh, his silly songs that he used to hum.
It felt like home.
After a few days, you noticed that the shop cleared out a little before lunchtime. You had been having a steady stream of customers all day since the day you opened, but now it was empty. You tried to remind yourself that things wouldn’t always be that busy, and that it didn’t mean anything.
I guess I’m just worried, dad. I want to do well here. I want to stay.
You had a pile of plates in one hand as you wiped down a table outside.
“Good afternoon,” boomed a deep voice from above, and your ankle shifted against the stone tiles.
You were slipping, trying and failing to keep a grip on the porcelain plates.
Then a huge, warm hand held you steady, and your mouth gaped at the sight of another gloved hand catching the plates before they fell.
“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, heart racing.
Shifting away to look at your new patron, you steadied yourself, pressing your palm against the warmth beside you.
Your breath hitched as your hand touched firm leather. You stumbled back a step, and he grabbed your shoulder to steady you, before setting the dishes on the table, and towering over you.
“I apologize. I should have waited until you set down the plates.”
The deep, measured voice made you shiver as you looked up at the man it belonged to. 
He was so tall. Insanely tall.
Is he a giant?
He sat down beside the shop on what you just now realized was a bench, made for someone his size.
Realizing how rude you were being, you cleared your throat, giving him a smile.
“No need to apologize. Thank you so much for saving my plates!”
You dipped your head, letting your eyes go wide as you looked at the ground after getting a better look at him. 
He had deep crimson hair, with eyes to match. Those intense eyes were framed with arched brows, and eyelashes so dark and thick that you could see them from where you were.
You brought your head back up to meet those eyes, and you bobbed on your toes as you tried not to gape at the rest of him. 
You’d never seen anyone like him before. He wore a layered scarf that draped around his shoulders, covering his neck, and the lower half of his face. 
Below the scarf was an expanse of muscle, pink tattoos accentuating his chiseled abs. His leather vest covered nothing, but it matched the leather across the rest of his body, belts, straps, and spikes giving you so much to look at.
Then you looked back at his eyes, and realized you’d been staring.
“I–I am so sorry. I’m new here, and my head is a little off still. Would you like me to bring you a menu?”
He hardly spoke while he was there, but his gaze felt heavy and warm. Thankfully, no one else came by to witness you making a fool out of yourself. 
He made a huge order, and you packed three large boxes to the brim.
Your dad would have been so happy in that moment. You could picture his smile. Practically hear his voice.
‘Look, sweetheart. Your love is gonna touch all those people that eat your sweets. Isn’t that just lovely?’
“Are you afraid?”
“What,” you choked out, quickly brushing a tear from your eye as you thought of your father.
He’d taken the boxes from you after paying, but now his brows were furrowed as he looked down at you.
“Oh my– oh no! I’m sorry,” you panicked, realizing what he meant.
“I wasn’t crying because of– I was just thinking about my dad. He would have been really happy with your order. You picked all his favorites!”
He stiffened, one of his gloved hands flexing on his knee.
Clearing his throat, he stood, his height leaving you speechless again. 
“Thank you, miss. Have a pleasant day.”
“... Th-Thank you! Please, come again soon!”
You were waving at his back, and he froze for a moment at your words. But he kept walking, finally leaving your sight. 
Slumping into one of the chairs, you felt the blood rushing through your body, your head feeling fuzzy after all of that. 
Then a line of customers started trickling back in, and you poured yourself into work. 
What an interesting place this is. 
~
He came back again. And again. And you always forgot to ask for his name. 
He never said much. He always ordered at least three boxes. And you always spaced out as you stared at him at least once before he left. 
Luckily he always seemed to come during a slow hour, catching you cleaning with no other customers to attend to.
You wanted to ask if he liked them. If he liked your dad’s favorite recipes. It seemed like a silly question, since he ordered so many every time.
But you liked his voice, and you thought it would sound really nice if he said it. 
You caught yourself grinning in the mirror at the thought as you got ready for the day.
I think I like it here.
“Good morning, miss Y/N!”
You had just stepped downstairs, morning light still not quite touching the world, but your shop was full of people.
“I… I’m sorry. The shop’s not open yet. But I’m happy to share my pot of coffee with you if you’re willing to wait on the doughnuts!”
You felt extra grateful that you’d dressed for the day before coming downstairs.
“Thank you dear, but you’ll be coming with us.”
A tall, thin woman moved toward you, a rough scar bisecting her face, and you clenched your fist to stop yourself from recoiling. It was too damn early for someone who looked like a gnarled old witch to break in and threaten you.
Is she threatening me?
“Sorry, uh,” you said awkwardly as you moved behind the counter. “I’ve got a lot of doughnuts to get started for the day.”
“Not today, sweetie,” the witch-like woman said, her reddish nose bobbing as she shook her head.
“I don’t– Did I do something wrong?”
You shrank back against the wall as guards moved against you, gripping your arms.
“Not at all,” the woman nearly shrieked, failing to sound comforting. “In fact, you are being granted the highest of honors. You are about to become part of Big Mom’s family!”
You had been squirming only slightly, not really fighting against the men holding and moving you. But now you slumped, confusion hurting your brain too much to keep steady.
“What do you mean? What’s happening,” you asked, panic building in your throat the closer they got you to the door. 
“You have been chosen to wed the shining star of the Charlotte family. Our strongest warrior, a man whose back has never touched the ground. My perfect big brother, Charlotte Katakuri!”
Your mouth hung open as she continued, her voice manic, louder with each word. She may as well have been speaking another language. 
She pointed a long, twig-like arm at you, and you tried to clear your head to understand.
“You can call me Brulee, sister in law. Tomorrow you will become Charlotte Y/N.” 
You stood, frozen and dizzy.
“Come now, lots to do, sister,” she tutted, snapping her fingers.
“But why? Why me?”
She reared on you, her red nose inches from yours.
“You’re special, of course. You were chosen. And you’d better learn not to question Mama.”
“Please,” you pleaded, twisting against the guard's hold. “I don’t–”
“Don’t question mama! And don’t even think about refusing her.”
The guards tightened their grip, leading you toward the door.
“Wait!”
“Don’t res—”
“Please change the sign! Please let my customers know I’ll be gone, I don’t want them to wait out there for me.”
Brulee frowned at you, but had one of the guards write a note, hanging it on the door.
“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, giving her a grateful smile.
She frowned again.
You didn’t resist, and the guards let you walk freely. You felt the stares of citizens on you, and watched a group of onlookers waving as the ship departed for the main island. 
Whole Cake Island. 
It was incredible. The sounds, the colors, the smells! Excited locals rushing around, as if preparing for something big. 
Like a wedding.
Brulee spent the travel time regaling you with stories of her brother. 
The second son of the Big Mom Pirates. One of the Three Sweet Commanders. The Minister of Flour who governs over your new home, Komugi Island.
“When he was born he stood straight up, and slept on a chair. His back has never touched the ground. He’s never laid down, and never been knocked down either.”
“That sounds tiring,” you muttered under your breath, but she turned, grasping your wrist.
“Not to my brother. He’s more than strong. He’s superhuman. He’s noble, and cool-headed. And you are going to be the perfect wife for my perfect brother. Got it?”
“I-I got it.”
She released your arm, and you tried to fight your nerves, but you couldn’t stop shaking. 
You were led through a massive castle that looked like, or was it a cake? The ceilings were so massive, you had to crane your neck to see them.
Brulee left the guards outside, leading you into a gorgeous bedroom, with an extravagant bathroom, and at least ten servants carrying all sorts of fabrics, powders, shoes, and more. 
You felt like you were in a whirlwind, just staying still and letting these strangers touch you, pamper you, fit the white dress to your body.
Now and then you’d pay attention to what they were saying between their giggles and demands. 
“She’s so lucky.” 
“I wish I could join the family.”
“I wonder if his children will be as perfect as he is?”
Finally, you were freed from their hands. Dinner was brought to your guarded room, and you watched the night fall.
You curled up in the luxurious bed, and sobbed silently. You caught yourself whispering under the blankets, eyes burning as you tried to make sense of it all.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m trying to see the good here. But I’m scared. I love this place. I love making people smile. But what if this man… What if my husband is a bad person? What if he’s mean? What if he doesn’t like me?”
Visions of terror filled your mind. If they could kidnap you for this, could they really be good people? This land seems so happy and prosperous, could this marriage be a good thing?
“Is this a miracle, dad? Should I let it happen, and hope for the best?” 
“Will they kill me if I try to run?” 
“I’m scared, dad. I wish you were here.”
Finally, your quiet sobs fell into slow breaths as sleep pulled you under.
Morning arrived, and the servants were buzzing with excitement as they prepared you for the wedding. You felt empty, hollow. They kept pinching your cheeks lightly, trying to wake you up, to convince you to be happy.
All you could manage was a weak smile as you looked at your reflection.
“You look beautiful, sister,” Brulee praised, patting your hand. “It’s almost time.”
She led you to a massive stone room, guiding you to a small bench before leaning over you. 
“Just wait here. It won't be long.”
She left, and you didn't turn to watch her go. You thought about running. There were no guards in this chamber. 
You bit your lip to keep from crying, afraid of what might happen to you if you ruined your makeup.
“Y/N…”
A choked gasp left your throat as you turned, looking for the owner of that deep voice.
Your favorite customer was there, his height looking almost normal in this massive room. He sat along the wall on a giant bench, leaning toward you.
“Oh, hello,” you practically squeaked, throat caught with unshed tears. “What are you doing here? I’m sorry I couldn’t make your order today!”
“Please,” he stopped you, holding out his gloved hands. You blinked at him, noticing that his normally black attire was white, somehow making his hair and tattoos stand out even more.
“What are you…”
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let this happen.” 
“Let what happen,” you asked, your mind moving so fast it felt like it was tripping over itself. You stood without meaning to, walking closer.
“You were brought to my island as a gift. For me.”
His dark eyes poured over you as you stood, silently waiting.
“I shouldn’t have told mama that I liked you. I tried to convince her to stop, but there’s no way to stop this without violence now. And I cannot hurt my family.”
Violence? 
Your heart beat in your chest like a bird, wings flapping desperately to escape a cage. 
“Mama is a decisive woman. When she makes her mind up on something, it will happen. I am usually the one to make it happen. Most of my siblings have their marriages arranged. I didn't…”
Regret tinged his voice, and you met his eyes.
“Why me?”
He looked away, sighing as he leaned back against the wall.
“My siblings brought you to my island because they thought I would enjoy your doughnuts. I happened to mention how much I’ve enjoyed your work, and your… company. So Mama has decided that you’ll be joining the family. That you and I will marry. In less than an hour.”
You’d never heard him say so many words at once, and his voice rolled over you while you tried to comprehend everything. Your mouth hung open as you stared at him.
“You must be frightened.”
He shifted on the bench, looking almost uncomfortable before he caught himself. He adjusted the movement, making it look deliberate. But you noticed.
He’s just a person.
“I think having a first date might have been nice,” you teased with a small smile. 
He stared down at you for a long moment, before his brows furrowed.
“You shouldn’t have to marry a monster.” 
“What do you mean,” you questioned, starting to feel lightheaded from everything.
“When we kiss, it will be over…”
“We’ll be married?” 
“No.”
You hadn’t thought his eyes could get any more intense, but they sure did. You stood, still as a statue, waiting for him to explain. 
“There’s something I have to show you.” 
Katakuri unraveled his scarf, slowly revealing the lower half of his face.
Your eyes went wide at the sight of his large mouth, scars stretching from ear to ear. Sharp teeth or fangs jutted out at the edges of his lips. 
Your first thought was that he did look like a monster.
‘You can’t tell somebody’s heart from the outside, sweetheart. Always give people a chance.’
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, after you stood there too long, thinking of your dad’s voice.
You watched those huge hands start to drape the scarf, looking away from you as he covered his scars.
“Wait,” you commanded, voice almost too loud in the echoing room. You reached up to put your hand on his knee, shoving aside a brief thought about how things would work with his height.
“Will you be kind to me?” 
He paused his movements, face still uncovered. Your whole body rolled with warm shivers as he laid his hand on yours.
“I will be kind to you. And I will protect you.” 
“And you’ll tell me how much you like my doughnuts?”
An almost surprised huff left him, and you were pleasantly shocked to see his wide lips twitch up, a hint of a smile there. 
“I love your doughnuts. They make me very happy.” 
Your toes curled in your shoes as you grinned up at him
“Okay,” you nodded, dread shifting to excitement. “I guess we’re getting married then? Please, promise to be kind.” 
“I promise,” he agreed, head tilted as he looked at you, before wrapping his scarf back around. 
You were practically bouncing on your feet now, and your words came out high and fast.
“So, your name is Katakuri?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true you never lie on your back?”
“We’ll learn a lot of interesting things about each other later,” he promised, voice low as he patted you on the head.
“Right now we have somewhere to be.”
There were so many people. So much food, so many sweets. 
Big Mom was enormous, even taller than Katakuri. All of her children looked so different, so interesting. 
Everyone seemed happy.
I’ll choose to be happy too, dad. I just wish you were here with me.
The ceremony and vows flew by, and luckily you remembered what to say. Then the end arrived, and you realized that you didn’t know what to do.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may start your marriage with a kiss!”
How am I supposed to kiss him?
Your question was answered as his large hand scooped down beside you. Looking into his face, you could have sworn he was smiling by the slight crinkling of his eyes.
A giggle left your lips as you nodded, and you gasped as he grabbed you gently around the waist, lifting you up.
You heard the cheers of his family as he turned away from the crowd, keeping his face from their sight.
“I am sorry, Y/N.”
His whisper made your heart ache for this strange man. He seemed so lonely, even with all of his family looking up to him. 
Maybe neither of us have to be lonely anymore.
You touched a hand to his cheekbone, and he seemed to freeze.
“Don’t be sorry, Katakuri. Let’s just be good to each other.”
You felt a hum move through him before he carefully pulled his scarf down, just enough, just for you.
He’s so big!
That thought hit you again, but you’d already decided. You were already his. You leaned forward, and kissed him between the sharp fangs at the edges of his mouth.
His lips were warm, and soft, and sweet.
You let out a hum of contentment, wiggling slightly in his grasp. He pulled back, covering his face, then he stared at you. 
“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your skin flush as you felt suddenly shy.
“Oh mama, mama,” Big Mom laughed, making him turn to face the party.
“My family is getting bigger and bigger! What a wonderful day. Let’s start with the cake!”
~
Katakuri didn’t join in on the fun, sitting on the edge as if keeping watch over his own wedding. Everytime you tried to talk to him, new in-laws would drag you away, light conversations and laughter hogging the day. 
Finally, you were ushered away, waving back at the crowd as your husband joined you. 
Instead of a carriage, you were carried away from your wedding on Katakuri’s shoulder, adjusting the scarf so that it would stay in place. 
A procession of onlookers applauded, calling his name. You even heard your own name once or twice. It felt like the entire island was cheering for you, and you were caught in the chaos of a world you never could have imagined. 
Your mind started racing as the wedding was over, the real world starting to return. A million questions tore through you, and you didn’t know where to start, until one came tumbling out.
“How are we going to sleep if you never lay on your back?”
He let out a sound that could have been a laugh as he kept moving toward your new home. 
“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll show you.”
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Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: Once again, I'm so happy to take requests! I probably wouldn't have thought to write for this big guy, but now I love this lil doughnut man. He's so sweet ��😭 (Let me know if I should write the honeymoon... 😳)
Tag List: @shewrites02
Part 2
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| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
377 notes · View notes
fangirl-dot-com · 4 months
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Fernando Alonso - I Love My Grandpa
Wow it feels like this series is flying! After this chapter, we only have two more to go. Like – that’s crazy to me, never would have thought that one simple story idea would lead to something like a multichapter work with spin offs and extras! This one might be a little bit shorter so I apologize! I’m honestly just trying to get back onto the next chapters! 
All of you readers have helped me get to where we are with this entire work and I promise to be a good author! 
[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]
Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3 
You sighed as you walked around the paddock. Bored out of your ever-loving mind. Max was off in some meeting, Charles was hidden in the Ferrari garage (one you hadn’t found out how to infiltrate, the Italians are menaces to societies), Lando and Oscar are late, Alex decided to go off with Lily and NOT invite you, and Logan was sleeping. Which, in hindsight, was probably what you needed to be doing, but you were restless. 
You’d been out of the car for one of the small breaks and were just itching to get back into driver. But no. 
You were stuck in the paddock. 
Alone. 
You thought about bothering Mitch, but like most adults, she was working for the race this coming weekend. Boo-hoo. You knew that Christian could give you something to do, but that would mean an old lady job like filing. Or honestly, it wouldn’t but you didn’t want to give Christian any ideas. 
Now, you were stuck, scrolling through one of your multiple social media apps, on the hospitality roof. Your headphones were on, blocking out the world. You swiped out of Instagram and clicked on TikTok. 
Maybe you should have bothered the social media personnel. They seemed to always look for drivers to make new videos. You quickly stood up. If they wouldn’t find you, you would do it yourself. Glancing over the railing, your eyes danced along the grid. Who could you approach and force to make a TikTok with? 
Your eyes widened at the sight of the emerald green that flashed below. A smirk grew on your face as you quickly left the roof to go down to the pitlane. Once out in the sun, you made your way over the garage. 
You knew better than Max to wear the Red Bull clothing on days that it was not needed. So you blended in, kind of. You glanced around for the one driver that you knew would make a video with you. He wasn’t named “public figure of the year” for nothing. Even though it was only for Spain, it still counted. 
You walked up to a group of mechanics, suddenly feeling confident. 
“Do you know where I could find Fernando?” your voice echoed through the empty garage. They suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked at you. You felt small under their gaze, but held eye contact. 
One of them sweetly smiled and said that Fernando should be watering plants around the pit. You quickly thanked him and left the garage, a tight grip on your phone. You would get this video and be TikTok famous. 
Your only goal in life. 
You snorted at your thought. That was definitely not your goal in life, but it was one of them. Looking for the Spaniard was harder than you thought. You thought you had gone to every single garage on the planet, and he was nowhere to be found. 
At one point, you ran into several of the other drivers. And when you say ran into, it was quite literally. It wasn’t your fault that Max decided to step in front of you when you were speed walking past Red Bull. 
The impact was more than you thought, as you found yourself on the hot asphalt. You gazed up at the Dutchman, sun getting into your eyes. You pulled yourself up and stood next to him. Max still looked as though he was recovering from your hit. 
Before he could say anything though, you blurted out, “Have you seen Fernando?” 
Max had a bewildered look on his face. Why would you be looking for Fernando? From behind you, Charles suddenly appeared, eating what you think were some sort of chips. 
Right, Max never went anywhere without Charles and Charles never went anywhere without Max. Maybe for secret Santa, you’d get them one of those giant shirts for them to wear. 
Through his bites, Charles managed to get out, “I saw him earlier at hospitality.” 
You clapped him on the shoulders. “Good man. Thank you.” You quickly reached into his bag of snack, grabbed whatever your fingers could feel, and dashed away, stuffing your face. 
The Monégasque and Dutchman just stared as you bolted from the both of them. 
“What was that?” Max asked, as Charles looked down at his bag with whine.  
“She took the last of my snack.” 
Max shook his head. “Come on. We’ll get you more snacks. Red Bull doesn’t go over cost cap on catering for nothing!” 
The two drivers disappeared, leaving the various employees questioning what they just witnessed. 
As for you, you were still on your journey. You climbed the stairs once again, putting yourself right back where you started. And low and behold. 
There he was. In all his glory. 
Watering the plants?  
He must have sensed your presences, or heard you gasping for air since you took the stairs. But you wouldn’t talk about that. 
He sent you a welcoming smile and beckoned you over. You gingerly stepped closer to the plant that he was showering. You cocked your head, not knowing what else you were supposed to do. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the nice flowers that had bloomed. You decided to talk first. 
“Do you water all of the plants?” 
A deep chuckle escaped Fernando’s lips. He had watched you look with a puzzled face. 
“Not all of them. Just the ones that look like they need something extra,” he gave you a wink before turning back to his task. You took this moment to look around. At the opposite edge of the roof, there was a smaller plant that looked as if it had seen better days. 
You grabbed one of the water bottles that Fernando had near him and opened it as you cracked the seal. You carefully poured the water over the small plant. Watching, you noticed how the dirt seemed to just drink it up. 
This was actually pretty nice: having to share a quiet space with someone. You made your way over to a few more plants before walking back over. It seemed as though Fernando was done as well. 
You went to speak, but was interrupted with a growl from your stomach. Quickly looking at your phone, the time shocked you as it was already past lunch. Fernando quietly laughed. 
“Lunch?” 
You grinned widely at the suggestion. The two of you made your way down to the hospitality cafeteria. It was pretty empty, since the lunch hour had passed for multiple people. You walked up to the line, ordered, grabbed your food, and found a nice table near the back by a window. It reminded you of the first lunch you had with Mitch. 
Fernando sat across from you. You liked his energy. 
“So,” he spoke first, “I heard from one of my mechanics that you were looking for me?” He raised his eyebrow. 
Your cheeks flushed as you bit into your sandwich. You quickly swallowed to answer. “Uh, I was bored and I wanted to make a TikTok. But everyone was busy, so I thought I’d try to find you.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug. 
You found yourself doing that quite a bit. 
The Spaniard looked at you. “You couldn’t find someone younger? I’m just wondering why you’d come to me first?” 
“Well, uh, there were some mechanics not working, but I really judge people of how I feel around them. They kind of gave off a busy vibe that I didn’t like. But you have more of a calm, grandpa kind of vibe.” You sipped your water. “I mean, if you thought that your career in Formula 1 being longer than Oscar has been alive, it’s worse with me. You’re 24 years older than me.” 
Fernando looked like his body took a screen shot. 
You quickly put out your arms, trying to console the driver. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s nice to have someone who’s older. I really looked up to you as a kid, and I still do.” You twisted your fingers nervously and Fernando could see that. 
“It’s not an issue niña. I’m honored to have someone like you that looks up to me. But let’s maybe not talk about the ages.” You giggled quietly as his scrunched face.  
“It’s kind of hard not to think about it when everyone calls me kid,” your face also scrunched, same as Fernando. “I’m glad that Oscar and Logan don’t do that, but even Lando has started.” You pretended to cry. “He’s only 3 years older.” Your head hit the table.  
He kind of just watched you go through the five stages of grief. If there was one thing he knew about kids, it was to just let them go through the motions. Your head quickly shot up as you took inhaled.  “Can we make a TikTok now?”  
A small laugh left his lips. “Sure, we can. Did you have an idea?”  
Your hands reached for your phone, unlocking it quickly.  “Uh, I had a couple of ideas, but, I think one would be really funny. I’ve been seeing some comments about how you act like our grandpa sometimes, so this audio would be funny, even if it says dad.”  
You played the video, the voice filling the space around you. “I get it you’re all fatherless…I’m not, I love my dad.”  Fernando let out a chuckle as your eyes lit up at the funny sound.  
You continued, “I’d just put words over it so that it would say ‘grandfatherless’ instead.”  
“Sounds like a good plan.”  
The two of you left the cafeteria to film the segments of the video. Because of time change and wherever you were in the world, it got a bit dark while you were eating. You carefully filmed your part a couple of times before it was deemed acceptable. You guessed that Fernando had done a lot of these because he was basically a pro.
You captioned it “Honorary Gramps” and posted it with Fernando’s approval.  
Before you knew it, Max had come to get you.  
You went to leave, before turning around and jumping to give Fernando a hug. “Thanks Grandpa-Nando.”  
You stepped back to walk away with Max, who had a smirk on his face. He called back to the older man.  
“Does this mean we get to call you that?” Max bit back a laugh.
 Fernando shook his head. “Absolutely not.”  
You whacked Max on the shoulder, “Hey, that’s only reserved for Red Bull’s golden child.”  
Max had a weird look on his face. “I thought that was me?”  
You shook your head before walking past him. “You have so much to learn Maxy. Let’s go find Christian.”
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780 notes · View notes
delfiore · 4 months
Text
—NOTHING IN THE WORLD BELONGS TO ME (BUT MY LOVE).
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pairing: aitana bonmatí x reader
synopsis: a picture of you and aitana making out during a team party is leaked online.
word count: 4.2k
a/n: she's my bbg your honor.
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“Thank you. Yeah, call me whenever you need to.”
You ended the phone call and groaned into your hand. It was almost dinnertime, but you had no energy left to even think of cooking after being on the phone for literal hours.
Walking into the living room, you found Aitana watching TV, or rather, the screen was on but she was staring into space somewhere.
“Paolo said it’s murky because we were in a public space, but not really ‘cause it was in the hallway. He’s getting paid to win this case though, and that he will,” you said.
Aitana looked at you briefly with a half smile.
She hasn’t talked much since this morning when the news came. You felt guilty for not having sat with her longer, but you needed to get your attorney involved as soon as possible.
“It’ll be okay, babe, I promise,” you sat next to her and put your arm around her shoulder. Still, she seemed tense.
“Is it . . .” Aitana drew a breath, “is it really that bad? That people know about us now?”
You sighed quietly, pulling your arm away to hold her downcast gaze. “It doesn’t matter. They sold those pictures to the press against our will. They infringed on our rights. I thought you understood that.”
Your tone came out harsher than you anticipated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”
“No, todo bien.” She shook her head and sat up. “You want takeout or no?”
You mentally cursed at yourself as she turned off the TV. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
You watched her walk over to the island by the kitchen, to pick up her phone.
“Tana,” you said, and she turned around. “Te quiero mucho.”
Aitana mustered up the best smile she could, and you recognized that. She knew you were burdened with the responsibility of talking to attorneys, and you were trying very hard, but she was a bit disappointed that you wanted so badly to stop the pictures from going public. She was never good at the legal part, she didn’t know a lot, but she trusted you to make the right decisions, and she loved you a lot too.
The pictures were taken the night before, while you were out with the team to celebrate another league title win. It was the end of the season, and it would be a few weeks before the summer international break, and your teammates were down to party at a local club for the hard work of another season.
It had been an eventful one, full of trials and tribulations, for you especially. Having undergone a surgery, you were forced to the sidelines for a good chunk of the season. Aitana had been there with you through everything; staying in the hospital after your surgery, preparing your shared home for your foreseeable impediment, reminding you to take your daily meds . . . She was the only reason you were still standing, because the toll the injury took on you physically was a speck compared to how it did on you mentally.
You had gone to get another drink and, upon you returning, found Aitana dancing with some of your teammates on the dance floor. Grinning and shaking your head, you could never get enough of how much of a party animal your girlfriend could become when she was able to. A tint of pink adorned her cheeks when she spotted you and pulled you towards the dance floor with her.
“I’ll take that, thank you,” you pretended to be offended when she took the glass from your hand and took a sip, grimacing as soon as she did. “Ooh! It’s strong!”
“Slow down, baby,” you laughed at her.
Aitana snorted, “lame.” She slung her arm around your neck, as you giggled into her ear. “Come here.”
“Not here,” you shook your head and gently pushed her away.
You could just barely make out a her huff, as she pulled away. “You’re no fun. Let loose for one night, will you?”
A few drinks later, you found yourself with your arm slung around Lucy as the two of you led the disharmonious choir of Barcelona players singing (badly) to the music.
You heard Aitana cackling in the corner as the song finished, doubling over and clapping her hands at your drunken rendition of a Zedd song.
“Let’s go, everyone! Next round’s on me!” You said and your teammates cheered.
Your eyes found your girlfriend by your side, just as she always was, waiting to take care of you and share your happiness.
Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you to her, as you felt her laughter vibrate against your chest. You had pulled her away from the main floor and into a secluded hallway, or at least it was what you thought in your drunken haze.
Your lips were pressed against hers hungrily, with passion better saved for the privacy of your shared bedroom rather than a packed nightclub. Aitana let out a trembling sigh, enjoying the sweet taste of your kiss and the push and pull of your hands along her body.
“God, you’re so good to me,” you whispered into her lips. “I love you.”
She was oblivious to the storm that was to come when a club-goer snapped a picture of the two of you. Though the lighting left much to be desired, your features were captured perfectly, and within context, people put two and two together.
Aitana was the first to see the photo when she woke up the next morning. Maybe it’s not so bad, she had told herself, at least people know now.
She only regretted seeing the pure bliss on your face disappear the moment you found the picture online, and you had been on-call with your attorney ever since.
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You never really shook off the tension that resided between your eyebrows, in the curl of your upper lip, and your shoulders over the next few days. You, Aitana, and the rest of the team were back in pre-season training, and everyone could tell you were stressing over it. Though you took training seriously, there was always a smile on your face even when someone had beaten you in a drill. Yet now, you scowled and kicked the grass whenever you lost the ball, or whenever someone dribbled past you. It got to the point where you got yourself into a scuffle with Lucy. Aitana had looked over at the commotion, and seen you all up in Lucy’s personal space, arguing with her, as a couple of the assistant coaches had to separate you from her.
Aitana hated the pitiful looks her teammates would give her afterwards. She clenched her jaw and watched Jonatan lead you inside for a talk. She was planning on giving you an earful when she caught you alone, but when you emerged with Jonatan, your eyes were bloodshot like you had been crying.
You refused to talk the entire car ride home, even refusing to look at her, opting to look out the window instead.
The moment you got home, you threw your dirty clothes into the laundry and headed upstairs.
“You want me to reheat leftovers, cariño?” She tried to ask.
“No, thanks,” you didn’t even look back. “I’m just gonna go and take a nap.”
You woke up around 8 pm. Aitana knew because she was downstairs watching TV when you skirted down the stairs like an apparition and crept into the kitchen looking for food.
She took the opportunity when you were distracted with dumping the rest of the content from the Tupperware onto a plate. Snaking her arms around your waist, she pressed her head onto your shoulder. She sighed in relief when she felt the warmth of your right hand encircle her own.
“I embarrassed myself today, didn’t I?” You said quietly.
Aitana pursed her lips and pulled you around to look at her. “That wasn’t very nice, no.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into her shoulder.
“It’s not me you need to say sorry to,” your girlfriend sighed and hugged you tightly. “We will be okay, my love.”
“I just think about those picture, and I just . . .” You exhaled sharply and buried your nose into her neck. “Fuck, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Yeah?” Aitana frowned, and cupped your cheeks, leaning in. “Why don’t I distract you for a bit?”
Her lips found yours in a tender kiss. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of her touch and her love. Your lips slotted together in a kiss that became more intimate the moment Aitana slipped her hands under your shirt and caressed your pelvis. You groaned as you felt her drag her fingertips towards your back, stretching your waistband and pulling it further out so she could feel further down.
“Fuck . . .” You groaned impatiently, cupping her neck roughly as you used your hips to press her back against the counter.
She was breathless now, one hand in your shorts and the other itching to get your shirt off, but you pulled away before she could do anything.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this today,” you sighed, detaching yourself from her completely to return to making your food.
Aitana watched you put the leftovers into the microwave before leaving you in the kitchen. She understood that you were stressed, but she was thrown off by the way you have been pushing her away the past few days. She knew herself; if she said something, you would say something, and before she knew it things would turn into an argument and someone would say something they didn’t mean.
Pushing the scenario to the back of her head, she headed upstairs to get ready for bed.
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In the following days, she felt you pulling away further and further from her. The only times she really saw you were during training, otherwise you would avoid her completely. She spotted you standing in a hallway looking out the window once. Upon approaching you, she noticed you were on the phone with your earbuds in, and against her better judgment, left you be.
Your teammates noticed the sudden rift between you and Aitana too—you two who were always stuck at the hip, you two who turned to each other first in times of victory and defeat, you two whom everyone bet on tying the knot first. Frido was the first to reach out, and had Aitana brushed it off like it was something trivial, but her teammate saw right through the lie. Aitana was Aitana, never asking for help and always having gotten by on her own, but this time her Frido knew it was severe, because Aitana never misses a goal in training, never.
During a match at the weekend, Aitana scored. Usually, she would look to you and jump into your arms to celebrate, but this time, you were already walking back to the halfway line while several of her teammates swarmed her in glee. She felt sick to her stomach, she felt like everything was her fault, and her frustration built and before she knew it, she had stomped on an opponent’s ankle in an attempt to win the ball back. When she realized the weight of the situation, it was already too late; the incident happened just next to the sidelines in front of the assistant referee, and she was shown a red card for using excessive force.
Barcelona won, of course, as they always have, even whilst playing away and down to 10 men. You walked into the dressing room, feeling the on-set fatigue coming on. You glanced at the broken bottle and the puddle of energy drink into one corner of the room, then Aitana sitting in her cubby in the other. You haven’t been very kind to her the past few days, and you doubted that she’d want your comfort anyway because of that. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her right now; what she did was immature and out of line. What you didn’t know was that she had thrown that bottle across the room and blamed herself, wishing that she’d be able to cry into your arms. Instead, she had pressed her legs to her chest, and hugged herself as she cried alone in that dressing room.
Frido found out, of course; everyone has their breaking point eventually, even the strongest and most resilient. Frido told Ingrid, Ingrid told Mapi, Mapi got angry, and confronted you one day.
In her fury—and maybe in yours too—you didn’t make out everything she hurled at you, but you recognized an insulting word when you heard one. Instead of turning away like you had initially intended, you turned around and lunged at her.
“What did you say to me?! Say it again. I dare you!”
Frido had to drag you away, and it was her stern look alone that de-escalated the situation.
“She started it first!” You shoved her away as you took deep breaths through the worst of your anger.
“She was right to call you that, Y/N. You are a fucking asshole,” she said. You turned around, expecting her to apologize, but you saw no trace of remorse.
“What the fuck?”
“You’re an asshole. You don’t even notice your girlfriend is suffering.”
You groaned and rolled your eyes. “What did she tell you? That I’ve been busy trying to get these fucking pictures taken down? Because someone violated my privacy? Her privacy? Because I won’t pay attention to her for one goddamn second?”
The Swede scoffed and shook her head. “Listen to yourself. You’ve become despicable. I understand that you’re going through a hard time, but so is Aitana. People are talking about her too. You don’t think she’s also stressed out? She won’t ask you for help because she’s Aitana and she would never ask anyone for help. You knew that better than anyone, yet you’ve left her all alone, you asshole!”
Frido was yelling at you, scolding you like a child. Your anger bubbled, but it soon turned into guilt when her words sunk in.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/N. Aitana deserves the respect that everyone has given her, except you.”
She pushed past you roughly, and you felt the weight of her scolding. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and it was an incoming text from your lawyer.
“We have grounds to press charges, and we’ll most likely win if you choose to do so. Let me know what you and Aitana decide on.”
“Fuck”, you locked your phone with an impending need to throw it into the window pane in front of you.
This was what you wanted ever since you saw that picture on Twitter, but now you weren’t sure if it was the right course of action anymore. Your insistence on press charges has made you become a rotten human being, and looking back at the last few days, you didn’t recognize this person you have become. Picking fights with your teammates, being a sore loser in training games, abandoning Aitana. You had no idea what she was thinking the past few days, and it scared you. She used to tell you everything.
Your knees gave out below you, and you felt the exhaustion from the last week come crashing down. You took a seat on a nearby bench and cradled your head in your hands. There was the sound of studs clicking evenly against the ground beside you before the bench strained under the weight of another body.
Looking up you saw Mapi leaning against the bench looking at you with a soft expression.
You were too tired to fight, but you didn’t think Mapi was here to continue where you both left off before, which was why it surprised you that she was here.
“Sorry for calling you a cabró,” she said casually, looking away.
“You’re not wrong,” you muttered. “I am a cabró, the biggest cabró there ever was.”
You felt her strong hand on your shoulder. “Todos cometen errores, amiga. Se trata de si intentas enmendarlo o no. Entonces, ¿lo harás?” (”Everyone makes mistakes, bud. It’s about whether you try to make up for it or not. So, will you?”)
You pursed your lips, finding comfort in Mapi’s generosity. “Where’s Aitana?”
"Viene a casa para pasar la noche con nosotros. Te sugiero que le des espacio y uses este tiempo para reflexionar sobre tus acciones también.” (“She's coming home to stay overnight with us. I suggest you give her some space and use this time to reflect on your actions too.”)
You nodded as Mapi gave you one last pat on the shoulder before taking her leave. You were glad to have friends such as Mapi, Ingrid, and Frido. In your egotism, at least Aitana still had your friends.
Upon returning to an empty home, you felt creeping in a sense of loneliness that you haven’t felt in a long, long time. The last time you felt like this, Barcelona had just won its first ever Champions League in the women’s club history, and you had gone home by yourself after a night out celebrating. Playing in a foreign country, you didn’t feel so isolated until you witness your teammates celebrating wins with their family, friends, and significant others. Your loneliness was short-lived though, as it was Aitana that came knocking on your door, wanting to stay with you. It was the night of your first kiss, and the night from which you hadn’t felt lonely ever since.
There hasn’t been a text or call from Aitana at all, and you knew you had fucked up big time.
“Can’t begin to say how sorry I am for the way I’ve been treating you,” you texted her. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pick you up from Mapi’s and there will be love waiting for you at home.”
You spent the rest of the night watching TV, keeping your phone by your side at all times in case your girlfriend wanted to reach you, but the screen stayed black the entire time.
At Mapi and Ingrid’s, Aitana was laughing at something Mapi had said. The three women were slightly buzzed from the wine they had drunken earlier at dinner, and Aitana had felt lighter than she has the entire week. She saw your text as soon as it was sent to her phone, but opted not to response for her own peace of mind. Despite her heart still aching when she thought about the way you acted, she couldn’t help the little smile that made its way onto her lips reading it.
She will always be able to find it in her somewhere to love you, and she could only hope that you could do the same for her because she would rather go through thunderstorms with you than lie in a field of roses with someone new.
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You jolted as you thought you might have forgotten the house keys when you walked up to Mapi and Ingrid’s. Patting your back pocket, you were quickly reassured that you had them with you, as you made a mental note of where everything was.
Ingrid opened the door for you with a smile, and invited you inside.
“Pretty flowers,” she said, gesturing at the large bouquet you had in your hands.
You smiled proudly and muttered a ‘thank you’. You eyes quickly found your girlfriend conversing with Mapi by the kitchen island, and your heart began beating wildly.
Her eyes landed on you, as you had half-expected a disapproving frown and her ignoring you to carry on her conversation. Instead, she offered you a smile and walked towards you.
“Hi,” you said. Attempting to say any more than that and you risked looking like a blabbering buffoon from the mess of a mind you had.
“Hi,” she mirrored your tone in a teasing manner. “Is that for me?”
“Oh, yeah. Here you go,” you handed her the bouquet and said goodbye to Mapi and Ingrid.
“Thank you,” you whispered to the both of them after Aitana had gotten into the car. The ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You would look over once in a while, seeing her watch the scenery flash by through the window. At a red light, you gathered the courage to reach out and grab her hand. This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you brought her hand up to kiss the back of it just as the light turned green.
Aitana stopped by the door the moment she saw your apartment. It was spotless, everything was clean and tidy, and lit by the few lamps you had chosen to leave on, casting a warm glow over the entire place. The dinner table had been set like it belonged in a high-end restaurant, with a white tablecloth set perfectly across the middle and a few candles to highlight.
“I got antsy at home, so I decided to clean up a bit. Hopefully, it doesn’t look too sterile,” you laughed and scratched the back of your neck.
“No, it’s . . . it’s perfect.”
You smiled bashfully and offered to take the flowers for her. There was hesitancy in the way you stepped away from her to prepare the bouquet to put them in a vase like the distance might dilute this warm air between you. You didn’t want to be away from her for too long; you had suffered the past couple of days without her.
When you returned, Aitana was on the couch on her phone. From the way she instantly looked up from it as she heard you coming in, you reckoned she was nervous too. You placed the vase on the dinner table and took a seat next to her.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“I know,” Aitana said, and stroked your head.
Taking a deep breath, you put your head on her lap, and tried to steady your breathing.
“I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for leaving you alone.” You spewed, trying your very best to form coherent words out of the thoughts that have been racing in your head for days. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. You’ve always been so good to me, and I hate myself for not doing the same for you when it mattered.”
Aitana was quiet, but from the way her breath trembled as she drew it, you could tell she was trying not to cry, and it made you tear up too.
You sat up and held her gaze. “I won’t let something that was out of my hands destroy us. I may not be able to control it when someone posts a picture of us, but I can control how I react to it.”
“What did Paolo say?” Aitana questioned.
“That we’ll win if we press charges, but I’m tired of letting this consume me. So I’ll let you decide whether we do or not.”
Aitana pursed her lips. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I’m sorry we weren’t able to tell the world about us ourselves, but I’m glad it’s out there now.”
You nodded and smiled at her, “I’m so sorry.”
Shaking her head, she pulled you into her chest. “I forgive you,” she planted a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my love. I love you so much. I didn’t want to burden you.”
You nodded, unable to hold back the tears this time. “Don’t be scared to talk to me next time. I’ll always be here to listen from now on.”
Aitana wiped her tears away, and nodded, bringing you in for a soft kiss. She whispered repeatedly how much she loved you, and you could only silently thank the universe for giving you the love of such a good woman.
You spent the rest of the evening in her arms as you discussed how things could be better in your relationship, and when dinner time rolled around, the two of you went into the kitchen to prepare food together.
At the end of the night, you posted a picture of Aitana on your Instagram story. ‘My love mine all mine’, you had captioned it, before putting your phone on silent. The mayhem was looming, but you may just have enough to power through the sudden limelight that was waiting to point toward you, and those hazel eyes made it all worth it.
803 notes · View notes
cherienymphe · 11 months
Text
Basic Training III (Peter Parker x Reader)
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Warnings: NON-CON(not reader), DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​
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➥ series masterlist
summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.
~
You didn’t sleep all night, leaning against the side of the bed and staring at the wall. For the first time in days, you actually felt like you were all cried out. Your eyes felt tight, your throat felt dry, and your body still felt weak. As the rays of the morning sun began to bleed through the white curtains, you stared at the food that was barely touched.
You needed to eat.
You knew that, but you just couldn’t. The only thing you’d been able to stomach was your water, and now you had to pee again. You’d tried to open the bathroom door, but it was locked, and you shuddered at the thought of having another accident. You could hear people walking up and down the hallway as you sat, could see the shadow of their feet moving past your door, and anytime you were tempted to reach out and ask for help, you thought about Jane’s words.
You didn’t want to be sent back down to the basement.
Just as you stood to go towards the window, you heard footsteps stop before the door. You could hear a key scraping the metal of the knob before it turned completely. Jane was the last person you expected to see but was the first you hoped for. You threw your arms around her before she could close the door good. It didn’t prevent her from locking it though, and it occurred to you that she and anyone else here probably expected some kind of escape attempt from you.
You didn’t even know how you’d go about one.
The thought made you sad for multiple reasons, and you watched her eyes fall to your food.
“You didn’t eat…”
Her tone had you swallowing.
“I’m not that hungry.”
She gave you a look that you couldn’t place before moving to the bathroom, using that same key to unlock it. You didn’t hesitate to use the bathroom, wondering to yourself if it was going to be like this forever. Would your hygiene depend on someone else and the key in their hand? As if she read your mind, Jane spoke.
“Normally, Peter will be here, and this will be unlocked, but he’s been caught up with work…”
The mention of his name had your heart sinking, and you struggled to swallow. You looked towards the bedroom as Jane ran your water, and you took it in with new eyes, now knowing that it was the room you were supposed to be sharing with Peter. The thought had you shaking, and you didn’t say anything as she urged you to get undressed.
You noted that she didn’t stray as you bathed, and your eyes fell to the water. It only just occurred to you that she might’ve been instructed to keep you in her vision at the risk of you hurting yourself. The stray thought had come and gone, but you didn’t think you could. You didn’t have the strength to try and run away, nor the strength to at least attempt to take your fate into your own hands. A few tears escaped at the thought, and when you finished and dried off, Jane handed you another simple gown.
You were quiet when you left the bathroom, hesitantly sitting down on the bed. Jane mentioned something about bringing you more food, but it went in one ear and out the other. Your head hit the pillow, and you stared at the wall for too long before it began to blur and then darken completely.
The next time you peeled your eyes open, the smell of food hit your nose. It took a while for you to register where it was coming from, and you lifted your head, eyes landing on the nightstand with a frown. The sight of it made your stomach hurt, and you turned away. You struggled to stand, making your way to the window, and you pushed the curtain aside.
The vast yard in front of you made you swallow, eyes widening as the land seemed to just go on and on and on. You could see a garden or two, clothes hanging off of a clothes line, and three familiar faces that made your heart sink. Steve and Bucky and that fourth cop from that day were standing near a tree, talking. The smiles on their face and the relaxed way in which they held themselves made your stomach turned, and when the other two laughed at something Bucky said, you turned away with tearful eyes.
How could they be so at ease after what they did? How could this be normal to them? You were wrong to think you were all out of tears, a fresh wave spilling over as you sank back into the bed. You laid down again, squeezing your eyes shut and twisting your fingers into the bedding. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat no matter how appealing it looked. You almost felt bad for whoever cooked it, and your vision started to blur again as your mind desperately sought out sleep.
The next time you woke up, your mom was on your mind.
You thought about how paranoid she’d always been your whole life. Something about you being a sickly baby and the legitimate fears the doctors had that you wouldn’t make it. You obviously had, but her worry had remained the same. She was always so concerned, and you remembered the way you’d roll your eyes at every text demanding to know where you were during each stop of the trip.
Now, though, you’d give anything to talk to her.
She had only wanted to make sure her only child was safe, and you could only imagine what she was thinking, now. She hadn’t heard from you in days, and as she had your friends’ numbers too, their phones would be going straight to voicemail too. She’d be thinking the worst…and she’d be right. The thought made your eyes water, and you pressed your hand to your mouth.
There was no telling what she was going through and what she was doing. It had been more than 48 hours, so she’d definitely be able to list you as a missing person, by now, but at the same time, the first 48 were crucial. Combined with the fact that the people who’d taken you weren’t some amateur assholes but instead professional cops with resources at their fingertips… It wasn’t looking good, and you found yourself feeling more sad for your mom than yourself. You were all she had…
…and now you were gone.
It was hard to say how long you drifted in and out of sleep. You did have a faint memory of Jane coming into your room and unlocking the bathroom. Had she done that twice? Three times? Her hand in yours as you leaned your head against the counter was clear as well as the memory of her urging you to drink something.
You were half awake when you heard the voices outside of your door.
“She’s not eating…”
It was Jane, but you didn’t recognize the other voice. It was a man, one you hadn’t met yet, and his voice was striking. Very deep and almost soothing as it lulled you back to sleep.
“Nothing?”
You surmised that Jane had shaken her head.
“I tried, but she mostly sleeps…and cries. She’s going to get sick eventually. She can’t…”
Jane trailed off as the stranger gently shushed her.
“Steve won’t be happy if this goes on for much longer. I’ll talk to Peter about it.”
You’d fallen asleep after that, unable to hear the rest of the conversation.
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Day after day, Jane brought you more food that mostly went untouched. She unlocked the bathroom to let you use it and bathe, she tried to pull you into conversation, but it was in vain. You didn’t want to get her in trouble with Steve, you didn’t want to get anyone in trouble with that man, but you couldn’t bring yourself to eat. You wallowed in bed and cried, and you had the brief thought or two that maybe this was how you’d die.
The sound of running water was what woke you up one morning. It was early, too early, and when you opened your eyes, the sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon. You felt weaker than you had in days, struggling to push yourself up into a sitting position. You saw the food on your nightstand, and your eyes passed over it without a second thought.
The light from the bathroom lit up the room, and you thought to yourself that Jane had never come this early before. You couldn’t face her, didn’t want to see that disappointment and fear on her face at the knowledge that you hadn’t eaten yet again. You heard the water stop, and her shadow passed over you as she stood in the doorway. With a deep swallow, you turned over.
…and froze.
Your eyes connected with deep brown ones that you’d only looked into a handful of times.
All in the same day.
You were paralyzed for half a second before you hurriedly sat up, pushing yourself into a sitting position to face him head on. Peter looked so different outside of his uniform. It had made him look boyish, the opposite effect, like a kid playing dress up. Now, dressed normally, he looked more intimidating than he had then, and you didn’t take your eyes off of him.
Any words that had been on your tongue were dried up.
He didn’t say anything, just moved out of the doorway to lean against the wall. You remained still as he drank you in, dark eyes roaming over you. There wasn’t a mirror in the bathroom, nor the bedroom, so you didn’t know what you looked like. You could only imagine. You didn’t need a scale to know that you were lighter…you could feel it.
You didn’t know what to make of him after everything. Before, he’d just been some overly friendly cop in the small town you were passing through. Then, he was standing by as his friends killed your friends. Now, he was the sole reason you were trapped in this house surrounded by strangers who probably wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm.
Peter had chosen you.
…and you hated him for it.
“Your water’s going to get cold,” he finally told you.
His voice was soft as he leaned against the wall, his hands behind his back, but you didn’t move. Jane had said that Peter was nice, that he’d be good to you, but what did that mean in the grand scheme of things? Your friends were dead, and you were being held against your will.
Still, your bad dreams made you toss and turn throughout the nights, and like every other morning, sweat clung to your skin. Hesitantly, you moved across the bed, and when your feet touched the floor, you shuddered. Peter didn’t move when you made your way into the bathroom, and you kept your eyes on him. When you made to close the door, his hand pressed against the wood, and he didn’t move to look at you as he spoke.
“Keep it open,” he told you. “I won’t look.”
You didn’t trust him, but you also didn’t have a choice. After a while, you eventually dropped your hand, undressing and making your way to the tub. Peter remained where he was as you bathed, keeping his word, but his presence itself made you uncomfortable. With Jane, it was easier to pretend this was something other than what it was. With Peter, not so much.
You silently cried as you scrubbed yourself, draining the water and drying yourself off when you were done. When you looked up, Peter was holding another gown in the doorway, only his arm visible. You hadn’t even noticed he’d had it, and hesitantly, you took it. Peter looked at you when you stepped out, and you looked away.
“Jane said you haven’t been eating…”
You blinked at that, climbing back into bed, ignoring the food. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Peter sounded worried. You simply shook your head, laying back down. You could feel him standing there, feel him staring at you, and after a while, you heard him move closer.
“You need to eat.”
“Why? Will Steve get mad at you if I don’t?”
The words had come out before you even thought about it, slipping from your lips without care, and when Peter didn’t respond right away, you’d expected the worse. You heard him sigh and then felt him sit on the edge of the bed.
“He’ll get mad at you…”
His words had your heart sinking.
“…not me.”
You felt his hand touch your shoulder through the covers, and you jerked, moving away.
“He’ll put you back down there…for however long he needs to,” Peter whispered, and it sounded like the thought saddened him.
You thought about that night down there where you saw him on the other side. At least, you were sure it was him, and you thought about how he’d walked away, how that might not have been entirely his choice. You bit your lip at the thought of going back down there, at the thought of Nat and how Bucky said she’d been down there for almost four months. That made you shake, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“Help me help you,” he softly said. “…because I don’t want you to go back down there either.”
Tears wet your cheeks, and you sniffed.
“You could help me get out of here.”
You knew what answer you’d get even before you finished talking, holding in a sob as you turned over to face him. Your gaze was pleading, and Peter was looking into your eyes with a frown.
“Please…”
“I can’t-.”
“Why not? Why?” you cried, pushing yourself to your knees. “Why did you do this to me? Why me? Why?”
Your voice was getting louder, and Peter was quick to grab you, pressing his hand to your mouth. You sobbed and screamed into it, pushing at him as he held you down, trying to quiet you. Once you started, it was like you couldn’t stop, and it was that first day all over again. Peter shushed you, holding you to him as he sat up, pulling you with him.
He was steering you towards the window, and you tripped over your feet as he did.
“Look,” he whispered, pushing you towards the window. “Look!”
You did, and you wished you hadn’t.
Through the opening of the curtains, you could see a woman. Her hair was brown, but as the light started to catch it, you could see it take on an almost reddish hue too. Your heart raced as you stared at the sight before you, watching as several men, some of them you didn’t recognize, stood around her. You watched Steve grip her arm, fingers digging into her fair skin, and you knew it was fair…
…because she was naked.
You wanted to turn away, but Peter’s hand held your chin, forcing you to watch as the blond fucked her with all the force and anger of a bull. The sight made you cry harder, watching with wide eyes as he forced himself on her in front of everyone like it was the most normal thing in the world. One of his hands dug into the back of her neck while the other held her arm.
It took your breath away, and as your crying ceased for the moment, you could hear her cries. You could hear the way she was sobbing just as you’d been, and you could hear Steve groan with every thrust of his hips. Her hands were tied together on the other side of some thin tree, and more tears spilled over just as Peter’s lips brushed your ear.
“That’s how Steve punishes…”
You shuddered at the words.
“That’s what he does when Margaret talks back or when she doesn’t cook dinner right or if she looks at him with anything less than a smile.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, and Peter loosened his hold on your chin.
“That’s what he does to get her in line,” he whispered, stepping back and pulling you with him. “…and if he tells me to do that to you…”
He dropped his hand, fingers brushing over your arm and turning you to face him. You couldn’t stop crying and shaking, and Peter wiped your face, looking over you.
“I can’t say no.”
Your knees buckled, and Peter caught you. He shushed you as you sobbed in his hold, lowering you both to the floor, and his hand rested on the back of your head as your forehead brushed his chest.
“I don’t want that for you,” he murmured into your hair. “That’s why you have to behave. That’s why you have to eat.”
You shook your head, a loud choking sound climbing out of your throat.
Even before this, you knew you needed to eat, even if only to keep your strength, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Even knowing what possibly laid ahead of you if you didn’t, you couldn’t. The thought made your stomach turn, and you slid down, head falling into Peter’s lap. You could feel him playing with your hair, and your chest grew tight as you tried to drown out the sound of what was happening outside.
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For the second night in a row, you woke up on the floor. You still couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything, and Peter hadn’t forced the issue since that morning. The sight of some woman, Margaret, being raped in the yard for all to see had shaken you beyond belief. Peter said he didn’t want that to be you, and you didn’t want that to be you either.
He’d let you cry and had left you alone, something you hadn’t expected. When night came, the sight of him climbing into the same bed you’d been sleeping in had frozen you. You hadn’t been able to move, just looking at him with wide eyes, trembling. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even hinted at touching you, but still, when he turned out the light and his breathing grew even, you hadn’t hesitated to grab your pillow and slip out of bed.
The floor had been your bed for two nights, now.
Even if it was more comfortable, sleep would still be hard to find with a stranger sleeping in the same room as you. It didn’t matter that you were ‘his’ now and that Peter was the nice one, the good one. Nothing about any of this was good, and being stuck with the so called nice one meant nothing when he was still complicit in the murder of your friends and your kidnapping and captivity.
Sleep hadn’t been easy since that day, plagued with nightmares and the images of your friends’ dead bodies. It was normal now for you to wake up in cold sweats before going back to sleep. To wake up with a heaving chest and tearful eyes as the fresh memories haunted you. It wasn’t normal, however, to wake up wet.
You frowned at the feel, face scrunching in confusion as you slowly pushed yourself up. Your confusion grew the more you moved, and then the smell hit you, and you blinked back tears. Embarrassment paralyzed you, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You didn’t even remember wetting the bed when you were a kid, and you sucked in a shuddering breath.
You were afraid to move, afraid to make any more of a mess than you already had, but the sound of your soft sobbing was louder than you thought. You jumped when light flooded the room, and you looked up, your tearful gaze meeting Peter’s confused one as he peered over the bed.
“I’m sorry,” that was the first thing you said. “I’m sorry. I…”
You trailed off into sobs as Peter moved. You could still see Margaret when you closed your eyes, humiliated by Steve in front of everyone for something as simple as dinner or a smile. Now, here you were, sitting in your pee because of nightmares and memories that terrified you beyond reason. However, Peter didn’t yell when he neared you.
He didn’t even look angry.
“Hey,” he softly breathed, reaching for your hands. “Hey, it’s okay.”
He gently pulled you to your feet, one hand coming to rest on the back of your neck as he leaned your head against him.
“You’re okay,” he whispered. “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”
You shook the whole way to the bathroom, still convinced that this would end in a way that would have you wanting to die. You repeatedly wiped your face as Peter ran the water, and he brushed by you when it was done. Embarrassment stabbed at your heart when you pulled the nightgown off of you, hurrying to sink yourself into the water.
Peter was moving around in the room as you scrubbed yourself, and you surmised that he was cleaning the floor. You closed your eyes at the thought, remembering the nightmare that had aroused you from sleep. Michelle’s bloody mouth as it opened and closed, face twisting into something terrifying. It wasn’t real, but MJ was still dead, and you were still alone.
When Peter came back, he didn’t look at you as he placed a new nightgown on the counter. Your gaze drifted to the water, and you fumbled to drain the tub. You ran cleaner water, washing yourself again, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying as you did. Your hands shook, and telling yourself you couldn’t hide in this bathroom forever, you finally got out.
Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed when you returned, and again, despite his demeanor, you still expected something harsh to happen to you. You looked away when he looked at you, your eyes finding the floor.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“Don’t… You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told you, making you look up. “You’ve been through a lot.”
His words made you both sad and angry. Sad because it was true, and angry, because it was his fault. When he stood, it was sudden, and it made you flinch, taking a step back. Peter reached for you anyway, his fingers taking your arm, and he guided you towards the bed.
“Take the bed,” he urged, pushing you towards it.
You looked at him, unsure, but he insisted with a sweet smile.
“Take it. I’ll sleep over here,” he gestured to the floor, the side of the room you hadn’t made a mess on.
You didn’t trust it at first, warily watching him as he grabbed a pillow, but when he turned out the light, you had no choice but to. You hesitantly laid down, your head hitting the pillow and your eyes staring where Peter was laying. You could just make him out with help from the moonlight, and you didn’t take your eyes off of him.
You were scared of a lot of things in the moment, but mostly that you’d wet the bed again. It was humiliating, and Peter’s kind words didn’t make you feel any better about it. You stayed up, just staring at him, waiting for him to get up and turn into Steve at any moment. Staring at him and waiting for him to hurt you, rape you, humiliate you some more.
Sleep found you against your will, and when you woke up, Peter was in the bathroom and a fresh tray of food was on your nightstand. You stared at it for a long time, eyes watering as you thought about Margaret and Steve, and you didn’t know how many more of them could go untouched before the blond barged in here and forced Peter to punish you.
You flinched when Peter opened the bathroom door, seemingly surprised by the sight of you awake. You couldn’t hold his gaze for long, looking away, even when he stopped right before you. You could hear him playing with your food, tasting it. Last night was heavy on your mind, but then he spoke, and you forgot all about it.
“Your mom lives in New York, right?”
You perked up at that, heart dropping as you slowly sat up, looking at him with wide eyes.
“What…?” you asked in a small voice.
He said her address, making your skin grow cold, and you opened your mouth to speak when his next words surprised you.
“You’re an only child, so…she has to be worried, has to be beside herself with it,” he continued, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing the food with him. “Especially since you stopped contacting her out of the blue.”
You didn’t understand where he was going with this, but it scared you.
“I could check on her if you want…”
His soft words had you freezing, brows drawing together in confusion.
“It would only take a few days.”
Peter reached for you, his finger touching your cheek, but you were so frozen with shock that you just stared at him.
“I could let you know how she’s doing,” he whispered, and you released a shaky breath.
A few tears escaped, one catching on Peter’s hand, and he pushed the plate of food in front of you.
“If I promise to do that for you, will you eat something?”
You blinked, more tears escaping, and you frantically nodded.
“Yeah?” you nodded again, and he smiled. “Okay.”
He scooped up some scrambled eggs, guiding the spoon towards your mouth, and for the first time in days, you ingested something more than water and a crumb of food.
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kitixie · 8 months
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Little Girl Gone
Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)
part two: here
Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left. 
information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!
warnings: none for this chapter!
please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!
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“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter. 
You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband. 
“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction. 
Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time. 
“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool. 
“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected. 
‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?” 
“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath. 
You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though. 
“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long. 
“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking. 
You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.
‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’
‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’
‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’
Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it. 
While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone. 
“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”
Fuck. 
Fuck. 
“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby. 
“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth. 
“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”
“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time. 
You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby. 
“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body. 
“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope. 
“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.” 
“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-” 
“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now. 
“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his. 
“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained. 
“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?” 
“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.
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yanderelionwrites · 5 months
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Trick or Treat (Male!Yandere x Reader)
A Halloween one-shot for spooky season 🎃 I didn't want it to be too long so it's a little rushed, but here it is. Enjoy!
Content Warning: yandere, breaking and entering, assault/grabbing, manipulation
Word Count: 1.9k
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the party with us? I have a spare costume you could borrow that I know you would look great in!” Your roommate asked, adjusting the faux dog ears that were sitting atop her head as she walked into the kitchen.
You pulled a candy bowl out of the cupboard, dumping the sweet treats you had bought earlier today and filling it up to the brim. You smiled politely at her, but shook your head.
“Nah, I’m good. You know parties aren’t really my thing. Besides, somebody’s gotta watch over the house to make sure it doesn’t get TP’d or egged or whatever.”
“Still, though, I feel bad leaving you here by yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“You sound like such a mom, Mallory,” Your other roommate, Tristan, snarked, coming down the stairs clad in a black cat costume. “(Name)’s been home alone plenty of times before. They’re not a kid.”
“I know, but it’s Halloween! The holiday just makes being alone feel more scary…”
“I’ll be fine, Mal,” You sighed, though you were still grateful for her concern. 
“We should probably get going now,” Tristan said, checking his phone. “Come on, Mal, let’s go,” Tristan grabbed ahold of her wrist, dragging her out the front door. “Don’t have too much fun without us, alright?” He winked at you.
“Bye, (Name)! We’ll probably be back around midnight! Call us if you need anything!”
After waving them goodbye, you took a small table and placed the candy bowl on top, leaving it out front with a “take two” sign. You had only bought one bag so if it ran out, it ran out. Locking the door behind you, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, excitement coursing through your body. You loved your roommates, but there was just something about having the whole house to yourself that made you giddy. A true introvert at heart.
Plopping down on your bed, you turned on your TV, scrolling through streaming sites to decide what to watch. In honor of the holiday, you naturally chose a horror movie, something you’ve never seen before but heard good things about. Cuddling up with your favorite plush, you get comfortable as the film starts, ready to experience the same dread and terror alongside the main characters.
That feeling never came however, because you quickly fell asleep not even 30 minutes into the movie. An hour had gone by by the time you woke up, with the credits rolling and the obnoxious sound of the doorbell going off. You stuffed your face into the blanket you were wrapped up in, hoping and waiting for the visitor to go away. The candy bowl was probably empty and some greedy brat was outside demanding for more.
You were forced to jump out of bed and stomp down the stairs when the ringing only continued, followed by loud knocking. Damn entitled kids. You thought bitterly, undoing the locks and yanking the front door back without even checking who was outside first.
“Look, I don’t got any more candy, so just-” You barked, but stopped mid-sentence when you were met with a tall figure dressed head to toe in black clothes. He had a hood covering his eyes, with a mask obscuring his nose and mouth. He stood eerily still, staying completely silent, only the sound of his heavy breathing being heard. It felt like an eternity before he said, “...Trick or Treat.”
Your eyes widen, backing up a bit and closing the door enough to shield yourself from him. You definitely were not expecting a grown-ass man to be outside your door asking for treats. Chuckling awkwardly, you stutter, “U-Uhm, sorry…we unfortunately ran out of candy…”
“Darn…that’s too bad,” The man’s voice was husky, but muffled by his mask. “I was really looking forward to having something sweet tonight,” He flipped his hood off before pulling his mask down, giving you a hungry look. “You’re wrong, though. The sweetest piece of candy is standing right in front of me. I could just devour you in one bite.“
Slamming the door shut, you quickly locked it again, disgust and slight fear taking over you. The audacity he had to just start flirting with you was downright deplorable, the creepiness of it all causing your hair to stand on end. Maybe this could be a prank? A stupid Halloween scare that would rack up millions of views online, with poor you being one of the unfortunate victims. 
Yeah, that’s probably what it was. You wouldn’t expect any less from this neighborhood, after all. Your heart was still pounding as you tried to convince yourself that it was just a joke, however, and you headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink. A glass of water was needed to calm your nerves.
After gulping down the cool liquid, you searched for a snack to chow down on. Hopefully if you eat something while watching your movie, you won’t fall asleep this time. Deciding on microwave popcorn, you popped a bag in and waited for it to be ready. 
Only a few seconds went by when you heard tapping on a window. It was coming from the sliding glass door that led out into the backyard. At first, you wanted to believe you were just hearing things, but the next taps were louder and incessant. The last thing you wanted to do was investigate, having had enough fright for one night, so you stayed where you were.
Good thing you did, because immediately after the tapping stopped, came a loud crash. You screamed, watching in horror as you witnessed a brick fly through the glass door, shattering it to pieces. Reflexively, you quickly grabbed a knife from the knife block, just in time to see the man from before casually stalking into your home. He turned to you, an eerie grin on his face as he approached. You pointed your weapon towards him, making sure he kept his distance.
“Stay the hell away! The fuck’s your problem, why are you breaking into my house?!” You shouted, putting on your nastiest glare.
He cocked his head to the side, as if he couldn’t understand why you were angry. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for my candy,” He said matter-of-factly. Smirking, he curled his pointer finger at you. “So put that silly thing down and c’mere.”
“You’re insane! Get the fuck out of my house!”
“So rude,” The man huffed, pouting like a child as if this was all a game to him. “Well, if you’re not going to give me my treat, I’ll just have to give you a trick. That’s how this works, hm?”
Before you could even process his words, he lunged forward, twisting the knife out of your hands with ease. He was stronger than he looked, and within a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the counter. You winced as your stomach dug into the marble surface, and you desperately tried to move your hands from out underneath his iron grip. They wouldn’t budge.
“Don’t struggle too hard, darling. It’ll make this easier for the both of us,” The man breathed into your ear. Chuckling, he added, “You’re cute when you’re scared, you know. God, I can’t wait to taste you.”
Your fear only worsened at that, struggling even harder even though it was useless. “W-Why are you doing this? Who even are you?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
“Who I am doesn’t matter right now. And maybe you’ll find out why this is happening to you if you do some digging later. A little detective work, if you will.”
What the hell does that mean? You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, though, because the man was pressing into you even closer now. You squealed when he dragged his tongue along the shell of your ear, anger getting ready to burst when he only laughed at your reaction.
“Get off me, creep!” You snarled, and you actually managed to jerk your arm back and elbow him in the stomach. Hissing, his grip loosened, allowing you to push him off. He stumbled back, and while he was vulnerable, you promptly kicked him in the groin. The intruder yelped in pain as he fell to the floor. You took this chance to run, practically throwing yourself at the front door and fumbling with the locks so you could get the hell out of there.
“Yeah, you better run…while you still can…” The man groaned, but his threats hardly fazed you considering he was just a pathetic heap on the ground now.
Flinging open the door, you sprinted out of the house, planning to find safety with one of your neighbors. You couldn’t get far, however, as you ran into someone quite familiar.
“Tristan?” You panted, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath while looking up at your worried roommate.
“(Name)? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to try and comfort you. “What are you doing out here?”
You sucked in a few more breaths before explaining the situation to him. “There…someone….some guy broke into the house… He was after me…he tried…tried…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, it was too terrifying to relive. 
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” Tristan hushed you, pulling you into a surprising embrace. It was something you never expected from him, but you returned the gesture anyway.
“He’s still in the house, Tristan… We need to call the cops and get away from here,” You pulled away from the hug, eyes now focused back on the house. “I left my phone in my room, so can you call them?”
“Yeah, I will,” He nodded, whipping out his phone to start dialing. “Let’s go back to my car and stay there until they arrive, okay?”
The two of you made yourselves comfortable in the warm car, and you listened intently as Tristan called 911. After he hung up, he told you that they were on their way and would be there as soon as possible. It was able to calm your beating heart only a little bit. There was a beat of silence between you two before you decided to speak up.
“So where’s Mallory? Is she still at the party?”
Without missing a beat, Tristan said, “Yeah, she is. I just had to come back cuz I forgot something. The last thing I expected was to see you in such a panic, though. Good thing I got here when I did.”
“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what neighbor would answer the door to help me, so I’m glad I ran into you,” You confessed.
Tristan laid a comforting hand over yours and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re not hurt. That guy’s gonna pay for what he did.”
You gave him a weak smile in return, before leaning into his touch. Seeing Tristan being so soft was new, but you found it sweet and appreciated how hard he was trying to soothe you. You closed your eyes as he wrapped an arm around you, glad that you were finally away from that creepy intruder.
Tristan let you rest, pulling out his phone when it buzzed with a text alert. Opening the message, it read:
I’m out of the house now. Sorry I couldn’t keep em pinned for longer, I know u wanted to look like the hero or some shit. Though it looks like it still worked out in the end
Trying to hide his smile, Tristan replied:
Thanks man. I’ll send the rest of your payment over in a bit, after the cops leave and things settle down.
Stuffing his phone away, he squeezed your arm gently, smirking at the way you moved in closer. You were so easy to scare.
Right into his arms.
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saerins · 3 months
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⋆୨ chapter three ୧˚ for a while, you were all mine
⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way <> next: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why ୧˚
⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?
ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 6.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, yn and sae finally sharing one bed | notes: eeep this was long i’m sorry !! more of the other girl here heh ^_< also mwah thank you to all of you who’s reading ily !! <3
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In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t right of you to go through your husband’s stuff. Maybe you should’ve just looked at that little black box and left it there and continue to be ignorant.
But no. In this world, you’re nosy and greedy and you wanted to know who exactly it is that Itoshi Sae of all people can’t get over and now you have exactly what you were looking for.
After extensive research—and by research you mean scrolling through your husband’s social media (all of them), you managed to find her tagged in a post buried way below on his Facebook wall. Silver lining is: there’s nothing recent. The bad part? Judging by the date, they’ve known each other for a long time.
Apparently her name is Mirin, and her family’s made up of a whole slew of top lawyers in the whole of Japan. There’s not a lot on her Facebook, but her Instagram is a whole other story. Her posts the last few years put her somewhere in Europe, and judging by the content, she’s been studying there for a while. But before that, back when the posts were all in Japan, you catch a few photos of Sae. Some of them have Oliver and Eita, and a couple of other guys you haven’t met before.
It’s really wrong of you to do this, only because you know you’re just setting yourself up for a world of paranoia, but you can’t stop. You move over to the pictures she’s tagged in, and there’s one from Oliver that catches your attention.
Because it’s dated a few weeks back.
The first of two photos show Oliver, Eita, Sae and the same guy you saw back in Mirin’s feed—the one with jet black spiky hair. They’re in a bar, you presume, sitting around a private booth with a ton of alcohol in the ice bucket on the table. You recognise his attire; it’s from the very first night Sae bothered to sit down at the dining table and eat with you. 
The second makes your heart crash to the floor. In the photo, in Sae’s place is Mirin herself, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a skin-tight red dress that you wouldn’t ever think of wearing. (One, because it’s much too revealing for your own taste, and two, well, just because you’re more of an oversized t-shirt kind of girl.)
All you can take away from what you saw is that Mirin is now back in Japan. Coupled with the fact that Sae had been gone even though he was off from work for those first few days of your marriage, you deduce what you wish isn’t true—was he meeting up with her all this time? Even 
Trying to avoid falling into utter madness, you grab your phone and text your ever-trusty best friend.
Reo, meet you at our usual. ASAP!!!
Just as you’re about to leave the house, Sae gets back from wherever he’s been (which now you can’t help but wonder whether he was meeting Mirin), and you run right into his chest.
“Careful, busy?” Sae asks, which is more than Sae usually does and you realise just how low the bar is set right now.
Still, you answer him like you always do. “Yeah I’m gonna meet Reo for a bit,” you tell him, biting back a snarky comment about Mirin.
Even with those doubts of Sae in your head, you can’t help but stop to appreciate how he hands you your keys from the key hanger before you forget, or how his other hand is gripping onto yours, warm and just slightly calloused. It’s the first time you’ve felt them since that day at your own wedding.
“Take your time, I’ll handle our dinner tonight,” he tells you, and you think that’s already a lot considering that he’s never really bothered with anything the past few weeks, but then you feel a soft sensation against your forehead—very brief, so unfamiliar, way too soft—and then it’s gone in just a second and it’s way too quick that it has you doubting its existence at all.
All you hear is a soft “see you” before the door shuts behind you, and then there’s only the erratic beating of your heart that fills your ears.
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“Yikes.”
“Very helpful, thanks,” you sigh exasperatedly as you plop down onto the cushioned seat across from Reo.
Reo laughs, handing you your phone back, open to Oliver’s Instagram account. “Then ask for a divorce, I’m sure he’d happily oblige if all of that’s true.”
“You know why I can’t, Reo,” you remind him, close to giving up.
Reo nods, remembering about your parents and deciding not to make matters worse. “Did you ask him about it though?”
You frown, glaring up at your best friend who’s now happily sipping on his cold brew. “And let him guess that I was stalking his ex? Sure I did.”
Reo snorts at your sarcasm. He thinks it’s funny how you’re oddly meek in front of Sae, and yet you’re snappish around him. Comes with the many years of being best friends, he supposes. But on that note, “you think there’s something going on between them?”
For the first time, Reo sees you helpless, eyes staring into nothing, index finger idly tracing circles on the polished wooden surface. “I don’t know,” because all you know is that you’re already exhausted from overthinking all the things they could be doing behind your back. “But… he’s always away and he says it’s work when I know it’s not. And she’s back and they were at the same place and urgh, I don’t know what to do.”
By that last line, you’re already burying your head in your hands, slumped against the table, Reo watching on as you grumble in frustration. He chuckles, gently patting your head before you look up at him, “what if they’re just friends right now?”
“It’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean… from the looks of it, they were pretty serious at one point.” Your words are all muffled because you’re pretty sure this is you being jealous now—thanks to Sae considerably warming up to you (be it at his own sluggish pace), it’s hard not to feel anything for him. In a way, you’re learning to like a lot about him, but there’s this unshakeable doubt you can’t brush off in the form of his ex.
Reo leans back against his chair now, pondering out loud. “Hmm I wonder what that reminds me of.”
In a second, you know all too well what he’s referring to, and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye. “That’s… different. We didn’t act on it.”
He rests his elbow on the table, head resting against his fist, “yeah but… we were still each other’s first kiss, right?”
“But we didn’t amount to anything.”
“Except that we’re best friends now,” Reo tells you, and you know he’s trying to get a point across but you’re not sure you want to understand it.
“And that’s all we ever were, Reo.”
Smiling, Reo leans forward a little, cautious at keeping his voice down. It won’t do if people misunderstand and word gets around. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but you were all I wanted at one point. For more than just that one day under the cherry blossoms, more than that one time I stole your first kiss.”
It stuns you a little to hear it, because any romantic emotions between the two of you were never said or shared. Both you and Reo knew back then that your parents wouldn’t ever be in favour of him and his rebelliousness that you both just decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. At that time, when you were both foolish kids, having that something intangible was enough. Maybe it faded for you faster than it had for Reo, but he knew that it once existed. Even if only for a second.
“And?”
You’ve gone soft now, and Reo knows you understand. You’re just in denial.
“Are you sure Sae would feel the same if he knew about it? If he knew I used to love you too?” Reo asks you, genuinely wondering for himself.
You’re about to argue that Sae doesn’t even care, but putting yourself into his shoes, you get where Reo’s coming from. History is history. No matter how long ago it was or how short the relationship (or lack of one) was, the feelings still existed, once upon a time.
Still, you have a feeling that there’s more than meets the eye. Especially if Sae has to hide it all the time. He’s never even said her name to you, if they met at all.
“Anyway look, do you want me to try asking Oliver about it? I’ll be discreet, though I can’t really say the same for that knucklehead,” Reo warns you. It’s not like he knows Oliver much outside of any business dealings, but he can tell that much at least.
You shake your head anyway, knowing it’s a bad idea. For all you know, Sae would just lash out at you for prying into his business when you’re just his on-paper wife.
“Wonder why they broke up though,” you think out loud, watching the liquid in your cup swish around, close to spilling off the edge as you swirl it with your hand, almost completely lost in thought.
Reo answers you without missing a beat. “She went abroad to study and just called it off thinking it wouldn’t work.” His eyes go wide the moment your head shoots up, and he winces after letting it slip.
“You knew?”
“Yeah…”
“What the- how?” Because it’s incredulous how Reo happens to know that much more about the relationship.
He sighs, fessing up. “I was asking around about Sae remember? When I told you he’s just a tough nut to—”
“Yeah yeah,” you wave it off, wanting him to get to the point.
“Well, Oliver’s kinda a blabbermouth so…” Reo sighs, as if he senses there’s no point in keeping it in, not when you’re already halfway into that rabbit hole yourself.
And you’re all ears. Half because you really just want to learn more about it and the other half just wanting confirmation that you’re not crazy for overthinking about this. But then Reo tells you and you’re not sure anymore.
“He said Sae was never over her, loved her to bits.” Reo pauses, hesitating before he opens his mouth again. “He said Sae was waiting for her to get back before starting things up again.”
Oh.
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SEVEN YEARS AGO.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Surely it wasn’t a stretch to be furious that distance would be enough of a reason for a breakup? Surely Sae didn’t have to think himself crazy for refuting such an idea?
Mirin’s hair flowed in the wind, pretty as it always was, and it would be even prettier in his memories. She looked unsure, and he knew it too. He knew her like the back of his hand, down to the injury on his ankle. She was only doing what she thought was right, and that was offering each of their own freedom, though Sae had no single doubt in his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Sae, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she told him, her eyes swimming with tears that she wouldn’t allow to overflow.
Always so stubborn, and forever thinking less of herself. That was how he knew her to be. And as much as he hated that stubbornness at that moment, he loved her just as much.
With a hand reaching out to her, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head in his chest, something that he savoured because it wouldn’t be long until she’ll be gone for who knows how long.
“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to break up with you?” Sae was asking her, genuinely. He didn’t know how to handle this—when life held different paths for two people in love, wasn’t it just common sense that they could still tread it and yet be together? Was long distance really the end of everything they had?
Mirin sniffled just a little before she pulled away and forced herself to smile, something that Sae hated. It was always the fake ones that irked him, even now.
“Is it selfish for me to think that we’re supposed to?”
Maybe he didn’t know the answer. But all he knew was that if she still felt like they should, then he’d concede. He was always weak when it came to her. It was always the same. He couldn’t imagine being weak to anyone else. It was her. Only her.
“Fine, we’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he told her, a tone so gentle that no one but her has ever heard. But he drew close, tipping her chin up so she would look at him, his teal eyes appreciating every inch of her beautiful face, the most beautiful one he had ever seen, and the most beautiful one he thought he would ever see. “But you know something?”
Mirin swallowed the lump in her throat, the amount of love she felt threatening to swallow her whole. “What?”
Sae let out a deep chuckle, a soft one before he pressed his lips against hers, a promise laid between their lips like it was a secret only they both would keep.
“Nothing would stop me from waiting for you to come back. So come back to me, okay? Come back, I’ll wait for you.”
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That night when you get home, you feel just slightly numb. After hearing what you did, it’s no surprise. You’ve always been kind of weak when it comes to feelings. You’re more heart over mind and you’d choose your heart over and over again even if you had no more blood left to bleed.
You think you’re never getting over it until you walk in and realise that Sae’s in the kitchen, setting your dinner down on the table. It’s like your tears automatically dissipate once you look into his eyes.
“Oh, just nice,” is all he mumbles before he sits down at his place on the entirely too-big dining table for the two of you.
Across from him, you sit down as you look at the spread before you. A steak on each of your plates, potato puree at the side. In the middle there’s assorted sides of mushrooms, corn kernels and what you assume to be a tray of sauces for the meat.
“Did you cook all of these?” You ask, almost breathless. You’re about to say he’s a much better cook than you are, until Sae speaks up.
“No.” He seems nearly unwilling to answer you, a delicate frown on his face. “Accidentally burnt the pans when I tried to cook.”
“Huh?” You spin your head around to find the sink filled with all your pans, and from the looks of it, Sae had been trying to scrub the burnt portions off unsuccessfully.
“We need to buy new pans.”
Sae says this all too monotonously, like he’s half-robot and half completely embarrassed, that you can’t help but laugh out loud. Besides, it’s kind of cute that there’s a faint pink on his cheeks. You’ve never seen that before.
He looks at you incredulously, like he wasn’t expecting you to laugh at him like he’s a damn clown. Flinging a mushroom at you with his fork, he rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.
Pouting at him mockingly, you decide to tease him a little more. “You didn’t touch anything else in the house and ruin them, did you?”
And you were joking, until you realise Sae’s averting his gaze, stuffing his mouth full with corn kernels.
“Sae!”
“We might need to get new stuff for the laundry room too,” he confesses, talking with his mouth full. (Spoiler: you find out later that he put the wrong detergents in the washer and accidentally flooded the laundry room.)
Still, you think it’s sort of endearing that he tried to do the chores while you were the one out for a change, so you stop yourself from making fun of him too much. It’s not like whatever you learned earlier isn’t still sitting in the back of your head (because a part of you wonders if he’s doing all this out of guilt), but some part of you wants to be selfish and let yourself feel special, even if it’s delusional, at least for a little bit.
You want to feel like the wife he misses when you’re not around, like the person he would think of when his mind strays. Is this all too much to ask?
Maybe you just can’t help yourself, so you bring yourself to ask: “Sae, why did you agree to this?”
There’s a pregnant pause in the room, the only sounds filling the silence being the stainless steel cutlery hitting the plates as Sae adjusts himself. “Why did you?”
You suppose that maybe it’ll be easier for him to share if you start first, so you bite the bait. “Long story but… if I don’t then it’ll fall to my sister and she’s happy with someone else.” You swallow the meat in your mouth, the fat rendered so well it makes you crave for more. “I don’t want her to have to sacrifice that. Our parents aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.”
Sae listens to you, an understanding settling in his chest. He could laugh from the coincidence of it all. “Same, but for my brother,” he tells you, prodding at his steak. “And he’s happy with soccer, not some girl. Can’t get a girl to save his life.”
Somehow, you can hear the quiet fondness that he has for Rin that makes you believe he’s a good brother.
“Would a marriage affect his career all that much?”
There’s a certain complexity behind Sae’s expression when you ask that question, something that you can’t decipher. But he scoffs, “let’s just say, my parents aren’t the nicest people either. I would know.”
And something tells you that it’s not something you want to ask yet, so you let his answer sit with you.
“Oh, speaking of parents,” Sae brings up his phone, switching the subject and handing it over to you. It’s a string of texts between him and his mother, apparently. You hold it up to your face, reading through and it appears they’d gotten you both tickets. “Mine got us both tickets, so.”
As you scroll, a grin appears on your face as you look at him. “Honeymoon tickets to Korea?” You’re almost squealing. It’s been a long while since you’ve last had a vacation, and ten days of distraction sounds really nice after all the information you’d just learned today.
Sae rolls his eyes, though you don’t miss the slight tug upwards at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, so get packing, we leave in two days.”
And as excited as you are, you feel a vibration and the brief flash of ‘dummy’ messaging him, the only part of the preview that you can see being: no, take me with you :(
You’re pretty sure it vibrates some more but by then, you’re already handing the phone back and Sae just locks his phone without bothering. Shaking your head, you try to stuff that image back to the deepest crevices of your mind, determined to not let it ruin your mood for your getaway.
Ex lover or not, Sae is still your husband and it’s not like he hates this (by the looks of things, it’s only been getting better and better), so you’re still hell bent on making things work.
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Two days fly by way too quickly.
The day after Sae tells you about the trip, you immediately get to work at packing. Ten days is not a short trip and you plan to make full use of it, and for that, you have to be ready.
You had spent the whole day buying anything you would need—travel-friendly items and whatnot—while commuting back home to your parents’ house (at a timing you know they’re at work, of course!) to take anything you might’ve left there that you needed. Just as you left the house, nostalgia took over as you looked around at the place where you grew up.
It’s strange. People say to cherish what time you have with your parents, that one day you’re going to move out and you’re going to miss it.
You don’t feel like that’s necessarily true, because you’re living proof. The only thing you’d miss is your sister and you still talk to her everyday. Meanwhile, the only times your mother or father ever talks to you is to ask you about your marriage and warning you not to annoy Sae too much, as though it was a given and that it shouldn’t be the other way around.
Maybe it doesn’t make much sense; you and Sae (or maybe just you) trying to be a family when you both have no idea what a proper family is like. Even if it is just on paper.
Now you’re on a town car to the airport and you’re fiddling with your passport in your hands, staring out the window like a little child that’s going overseas for the first time. (Next to you, Sae’s thinking the exact same thing—you do look so much like an excited child. Or maybe a puppy.)
Of course, Sae’s parents waste no expenses in gifting you two first-class seats. Not that you’ve never been in first class, but it’s nice to be next to Sae, and you catch yourself, realising just how quickly you’re catching feelings.
“What?” Sae’s just getting ready to turn his phone to flight-safe mode when he catches you staring, a hint of smugness forming inside of him.
Even with a small partition separating your seats, you can see his teal eyes staring at you, long lashes fluttering in all its glory. Instead of offering an answer, you just shake your head and lean back, busying yourself by adjusting the screen in front of you. 
Being in a state of denial is easy; it’s actually fun to sit in first class next to Sae, on a three-hour flight to your honeymoon, annoying him each chance you get, earning yourself a death stare every instant before laughing yourself silly when he flips off at you. It’s been a few weeks, but you think you’ve grown accustomed to what Sae is like that you know his middle fingers to you are never meant to be taken seriously and his silence is just how he is when he isn’t fully opened up. It nearly makes you think you’re crazy for doubting him and yet you don’t have the balls to question him about any of that. Not yet, because you’re not ready for this to end (if it will).
The itinerary had already been planned out by Sae’s mother, but it wasn’t like either of you wanted to follow it. One, Sae likes to do things spontaneously anyway and two, well, you have a feeling that he might want to treat this like a solo trip. It’s not like either of you have properly been husband and wife much to have a proper honeymoon together.
So count you surprised when you suggested that you both try to do solo trips around the city and just meet up for dinner, only to have Sae agree and yet follow you wherever you decide to go that first day.
At first, you were just wondering whether he had the same plans, but after he followed you into a Sephora looking absolutely clueless and then getting all flustered and sticking to you the moment the staff there asked him if he wanted to do a skin test, you allow yourself to think that he’s actually tagging along with you.
“What are you doing?” You decide to ask after exiting another store, carrying no less than five bags thanks to your anxiety of asking Sae what he’s up to.
On his part, he merely shrugs and looks away, hands in his coat pocket, looking absolutely like a model out of a magazine. Sometimes you wonder if he’s really yours. On paper, at least.
“This is our honeymoon, right? Makes sense that we’re together.” That’s all the explanation Sae offers, his gaze hovering over the bags you’re carrying, before he leans closer. “Besides, you’re my wife,” he says, gently grabbing your bags and carrying it for you.
He doesn’t say that it’s just on paper this time. And you can’t help but read into it. It’s perplexing how easily his words can affect you. It has your heart doing somersaults and your lips nervously pursing together.
“So, where next?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.
And maybe you’re a little too excited for this pleasant turn of events that you’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at him. “Wait, really?” 
You can’t even hide the glee in your voice and Sae, for the first time, smiles—even if he’s doing it as he rolls his eyes at you.
“Yes, stupid,” he tells you, chuckling as you hop slightly in excited. “Are we going or are you just gonna stand here like a little puppy?”
With excited nods and a little squeal, you clap your hands together before daring to put your fingers around his wrist, dragging him with you.
Sae follows quietly behind you, staring at you as you happily tread ahead, your hands warm and guarding his against the slightly chilly air, hair flowing in the wind and he suddenly thinks you’re even prettier than he first thought you were. And then he starts thinking that maybe this part of his life that’s planned by his parents isn’t so bad after all.
Though, when you get back to the hotel, you find out that Sae has already specially asked for two separate beds, to the surprise of all the hotel staff, because of course, Mrs Itoshi had booked the honeymoon suite for the both of you. Special requests for that room usually mean flowers on the bed, or breakfast just the way they like it—not for the groom of all people to be asking for a separate bed altogether, especially when he insists there is no additional person.
“I’ll sleep out here,” Sae tells you the moment you get back to the hotel that night, gesturing to the bed set up by the television, much to your bummer. But you suppose you can’t expect too much—hand holding was already a miracle in itself.
“Oh yeah, sure,” you shrug it off, like it doesn’t even matter. Deep down you feel like a rock was dropped from your throat to the bottom of your stomach, forming a gaping hole in your heart along the way that you tried to will into non-existence.
Still, somehow, despite this little obstacle, you find yourself optimistic after being witness to Sae’s change in demeanour.
“Hey, Y/N?”
When you turn around, you see a hint of hesitation flicker across his teal eyes before he shakes his head, brushing it off.
“It’s nothing, goodnight.”
Although you’re curious, you decide not to press him about it. Offering a small smile, you nod.
“Goodnight, Sae.”
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Over the course of your entire honeymoon, you find that you shouldn’t be chiding yourself for being delusional in the first place.
For once in this one-sided love affair, you feel like perhaps it’s not so one-sided at all. Because from what you’ve learned about Sae in your close-to-minimal time together, he isn’t someone that you can force into doing anything he doesn’t want to. At least when it comes to mundane activities which includes trips. (Unless you’re his parents who you have no doubt in your mind probably mirrors your own and have their ways of controlling him, per se.)
But it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to do any of this with you when he’s so compliant. He follows your bucket list of things to do and doesn’t complain once. He lets you drag him to the palace and looks only slightly concerned when you tell him you want to “do the thing where we can dress up like royalty and take pictures” but he only sighs and concedes within seconds.
When he comes out of the room looking like the most handsome prince you’d ever met, you’re too shy to meet his gaze but he tilts your head up to look at him for most of the shots anyway. With his face so close to yours, with these kinds of small gestures which he willingly initiates, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to make him happy in this possibly loveless marriage.
Spending ten days together, surrounded by just each other and doing things that couples do; it nearly makes you feel as if this is real. Like Sae really loves you and that he had asked you to marry him one day out of the blue because of it. Nothing like how you felt that first time you met him, in your dressing room minutes before you were about to become husband and wife, being talked down to and told that this was a facade and could be nothing more.
Now he’s here with you, sticking close and following you around, entertaining your requests for activities, falling asleep on your shoulder when you were on the plane to Jeju, and sometimes he absentmindedly holds your hand like he’s used to it. He helps you with your luggage always, and he makes sure you get food whenever your stomach starts growling, and he’s more observant than you give him credit for because he starts picking the radish off your plate without you asking.
Your album’s suddenly filled with pictures of you and Sae and you were hesitant at first but dragging him to the amusement park when he wasn’t for it at first was a good decision; for a while, you get to see what he’s like when all the downturned lines on his face reverse, when he looks the most like an actual guy in his mid-twenties, enjoying life instead of brooding all the time. Thanks to that, your pictures are more both of you smiling or being goofy together instead of faceless pictures because neither of you feel like showing your faces at all.
By the time your honeymoon is about to come to an end, you find that maybe there’s hope for this after all. That maybe you’d just been overthinking everything prior to this and it shouldn’t be worth worrying over after the trip ends.
But you find that hope can be flimsy sometimes. 
On the seventh night there, you and Sae are both on your bed, in the actual bedroom, fighting (not literally) over a multiplayer game. Just two adults hunched over one phone playing frustrating games meant for kids. (Somehow it makes you feel like perhaps neither of you ever had a normal childhood and this is something to make up for it.) It’s all fun and games until you see a throng of message notifications from dummy mixed in with several from what you presume to be Sae’s group chat with the guys.
And you can keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, except Sae immediately stops after the current round and tells you he has to take a call. And you already know more or less who he’s going to talk to. And just like that, you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.
The subsequent nights (and days) aren’t easy for you either. After just giving up on thinking and forcing yourself to sleep that night, you’d been stuck with paranoia everyday. Especially when you realise that he’s starting to take calls every night outside on the balcony where he’s sure you’re out of earshot. 
You wonder if he’s being lovey dovey with her outside when he talks to her. You wonder if he imagines you as her when you’re out together. You wonder if he wishes you were her. You wonder if all this is just a gimmick; a test run for when he does the actual things with the actual girl he wants to do them with.
Safe to say, by your last night there, you’re a mess. The moment you get back from trying to be happy all day (which was a disaster because you wouldn’t stop trying to minimise contact with Sae), you tell him you’re too tired and that you’ll just go ahead and go to bed.
Which, of course, is code for ‘you just want to lie in bed and cry all night’.
Sae couldn’t even get a word out before you shut the door on him, plopping down onto the bed and crying into your pillow. Maybe holding everything in was a bad idea. Now you’re bursting with emotions and you try to call Reo a few minutes later but you can’t even get him because he’s busy somehow and you’re positive that the gods hate you right now.
There is one thing about being on rock bottom that you like, though; at least you know how you feel. You’re exhausted and upset and envious because you wish you could be that person for your husband. But you keep getting reminded that you’re not. That somehow you’re just a mere stand-in until he marries his real wife next time. The one he promised to love forever. (Technically, he vowed that to you on your wedding day too, but that’s not the same and you know it.)
Deciding to shut off your phone and have this time to yourself to cry your eyes out, you miss the sudden swarm of notifications that come in. And thanks to you stuffing your head into the pillow, you don’t notice Sae opening the door and peeking inside, an unfamiliar feeling settling inside him at the sound of you sobbing.
He gently closes the door behind him as he walks to you, your back turned to him, your hands and feet hanging onto the bolster like a koala to a branch. Slowly, he saunters over to you, almost like he’s afraid to. When his hand rests on your shoulder and he sinks into the mattress beside you, you stiffen up for just a moment before spinning around and sobbing into his chest instead.
You didn’t expect him to even enter your room at all, much less let you stain his shirt or hold you close when you’re being emotional like this, but he stays there, hand gently rubbing your arm, up and down, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. It makes you wonder what kind of games he’s playing. Is this Sae not being able to make up his mind and that’s why he’s still so nice to you even when he has his old flame in the back of his head?
“Do you… want me to leave you alone?” He asks, though you can argue it’s kind of a stupid question but then you realise he probably doesn’t know much about actual relationships so you let it slide.
You shake your head in response, deciding that as stupid as it all sounds, you want to throw your hat in the ring. You’ve fallen for him, and you want him for yourself.
And maybe it’s wrong of you to project this on him, but your absence of a normal family where a home is not just a house and where parents shower their children with actual love and concern makes you yearn for one yourself. And maybe it’s not a great idea to want that from a man you married from being forced to, but thanks to this honeymoon you can see that there’s a flicker of spark there.
That Sae’s not emotionless and he’s definitely not cold to you. Not anymore. That if you guys had been given more time instead of being rushed into things by your parents then maybe the whole wedding could’ve gone without any of the hitches you experienced. That every single radish he picked off your plate, every picture he took with you, every time he held your hand, every time he pulled you close—none of that was manufactured, was it?
So isn’t it possible for you to be happy with him? So is it still foolish or selfish of you to want to be with him?
Is it too much if you ask him about it?
“Hey, Sae?” Your voice is soft and timid and more vulnerable than you’ve ever shown, but he hears you loud and clear, his “hm?” resounding against his chest, right next to your ear. “Can you stay?”
A few seconds of pause, and he replies, “of course.”
You shake your head slightly. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, what we said on our wedding day.” Your voice is entirely muffled, still Sae understands.
There’s an even longer pause this time, and you think that Sae’s just thinking of a way to get out of this until you hear him speak up again.
“Idiot,” he chides, but you can hear the soft affection in his voice. Suddenly, you feel his pinky wrapping around your own, and he holds it near your face. “I promise you,” he whispers, and you wish you could see the expression on his face, “I’ll stay.”
It might be wishful thinking but you think he really means it.
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too-much-tma-stuff · 9 months
Text
I Don’t Believe You Care
Y’all are my beta readers XD if you see any errors please let me know. I’m going to post this on AO3 later.
Part one here
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The scolding that Bruce gave Damian was the gentlest either of them had ever received, but it did cow Damian enough that he behaved while meeting Cass and Stephanie. It helped that they were sweet, Stephanie was a bit energetic and overwhelming but Cass was quiet and seemed to understand them better. She helped reign in the over-enthusiastic family friend and Danny was glad to have her as a sister. She didn’t speak much, she communicated in signs that he didn’t understand but he thought that he could learn in time, and he wanted to. When he told her so she smiled and Steph squealed, insisting loudly and brightly that they would be happy to teach him!
He couldn’t help but feel relieved that when Alfred asked Stephanie if she would be staying for dinner she joked that she should actually spend some time at home for once. It seemed like she didn’t live here, though they knew of her identity as Spoiler and her involvement with the bats, all her noise and movement wouldn’t be a consistent presence around the house. Not that Danny didn’t like her! He just thought he’d like her best in relatively small doses before she could overwhelm him.
He would ask Cass to teach him when Steph wasn’t here, it might be just slightly trickier, but he could use the excuse of letting the two friends spend the time they had together. And maybe Tim could help him practice? He must know how to communicate with his sibling after all, and Danny could already tell he and Tim were going to get along.
He was even more glad that Steph had gone when Dick arrived because as the man came barrelling in like a hurricane Danny didn’t want to think of how much chaos and noise they would be together! For all his practice in social graces they really should have prepared him for this chaos, crowds, and friendly contact. But the compound had been short sighted and ill prepared in such regards.
Dick was the worst, Danny was almost jealous of Damian who could snarl and squirm and draw a knife on the man when Dick tried to hug him. Danny put on a smile and forced a laugh and pretended that his instinctual reaction to being held like this didn’t make him want to bite and rend. He knew that Dick meant well, or at least he thought so, the man was honestly famously good natured and cared for his family. Danny wanted to be on his good side, and couldn’t bring himself to actually say he didn’t want to be touched, or at least wasn’t used to it. The sudden, quick, and broad movements Dick favoured with his dramatics made Danny want to flinch though he had better self control then that!
He dodged hugs as gracefully as he could for the rest of the night and managed to sit him and Damian between Bruce and Tim for dinner, with Danny sitting next to Tim of course. The food was good, and everyone in the family was very welcoming, but by the end of it Danny was exhausted.
He was good at this sort of thing, trained to charm, and redirect apparently effortlessly, but the thing was it wasn’t effortless, and these sorts of situations were harder to simulate then battle. Danny had done a good job, he could tell that he had them charmed, and had them warming up to Damian too actually, but he also knew that he was drooping. He should hide his fatigue, but he was still human, he yawned.
“You’ve had a long day young masters,” Alfred said, instantly picking up on the mood, he was an impressive man and they both knew it. “Now that you’ve eaten why don’t you go settle in your rooms and get some rest? I took the liberty of going to buy you some pajamas and basics that should fit the two of you. I’m sure Master Bruce will be happy to take you both out to buy clothes more suited to your taste tomorrow,” he added.
“I think that’s a good idea, don’t you Damian,” Danny asked, glancing over at his brother.
“I’m not tired,” Damian harrumphed, of course he wouldn’t admit defeat. “But I would like to see where we will be staying,” He added. No doubt he’d thoroughly check security and for any potential surveillance before he slept. Danny wasn’t going to bother.
“Very good young Masters,” Alfred said with a nod, pausing to look back at Dick. “Will you be staying the night as well?” He asked the older man, who gave a rueful smile and shook his head.
“I’m needed in Bludhaven, I was able to come for the day on such short notice but I couldn’t get more time off. I’ll schedule a proper vacation as soon as possible so I can come back and visit!” He said giving Danyal and Damian an encouraging smile, and Danny did a good job of looking disappointed that Dick was leaving even though he was glad to have some time to get his feet under him before more of the family would be under the same roof once more. Maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought about dodging Dick’s affection though, because he didn’t try to hug either of the boys goodbye.
He bid their siblings farewell and followed Alfred up to his bedroom, seeing Damian into his first and then going into his own. He was quick to brush his teeth and change into the comfortable, soft pajamas they’d been bought which did fit perfectly. Unfortunately when he flopped down into bed, regardless of how exhausted he was, he couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying the events of the day, how he did, how he could have done better, what he had learned about the family and what it meant.
After maybe an hour once things had gone quiet on the other side of the wall and he thought Damian was asleep Danny sighed and got up. He opened his window and climbed out, he braced his feet on the sill and shoved off, jumping unnaturally high for a human to grab on the edge of the roof and drag himself up onto it. He scrambled up gracefully and silently, finding a comfortable place to lay, looking up at the sky. He stayed there, zoning out for a while before he heard a soft thump on the roof near him.
“How did you get up here?” Bruce asked, dressed as Batman this time, Danny glanced over and gave him a small smile.
“You can’t really see the stars here,” he said, looking back up at the sky. “I won’t miss much about the compound, but I’ll miss the stars.”
“Not settling in particularly well?” Batman asked, sitting down on the ridge of the roof, a respectable distance between them.
“Oh I’ll be alright,” Danny said with a shrug. “They always raised me to be your heir after all, Damian will have more trouble than me. Want some advice?”
“Hm,” Batman said, an affirmative sound.
“Take him to a zoo, buy him art supplies. He’ll deny he cares about such things, but I know him better then anyone and he does. Once he realizes he really can be himself out here, that’ll help start undoing the brainwashing.”
“How are you so insightful about the situation? You can’t have avoided the brain washing.” Batman asked, and Danny shrugged. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Danny asked, glancing over just for a moment.
“How do I bond with you?” Bruce asked, and Danny laughed.
“You don’t have to. I don’t need to be won over or convinced. Our grandfather is a violent fool who only cares for himself, teaching me to recognize manipulation showed me what he really was years ago. If you turned me away entirely I still wouldn’t go back to the league.” He said with a wry smile.
“Hm,” Batman sounded unimpressed. “You’re still my son. I’d like to bond with you?”
Danny sighed, not sure why Batman was being stubborn when his energy was best spent elsewhere. He sat up and looked over at Batman, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t need you,” He said somewhat bluntly. “Damian does, give him your focus. If you truly want you can buy me an instrument, and books on astronomy.”
Batman nodded thoughtfully and Danny lay back down, there was a few moments of quiet between them before B spoke up again. “How did you get up here?” He asked again and Danny sighed.
“I guess you have to know eventually,” He murmured. “Part of the reason we’re both here is because Grandfather couldn’t decide who he wanted to be his heir, it was always supposed to be Damian but something happened and suddenly I was a much more attractive choice.”
“What happened?” B prompted after a moment.
“You know about the Pits? Most people dunked in it come back less, in the mind usually, sometimes less human, feral and monstrous. But rarely, once in the blue moon, someone comes back more.” Danny glanced over at Batman, and when he blinked he let his eyes flash green, glowing with the vile waters the kept Ra’s limping along. He could have explained more about the ways that he was different now, but he didn’t want to let on more then he had to at this point. He wasn’t naive enough to trust Bruce just because they shared blood, so he simply said; “I came back More, and I mean, I’m still a trained assassin, I probably could still have gotten up here even if I hadn’t.”
“But seemingly being chosen by Lazarus made me seem like a better option to grandfather, and your… complicated feelings towards empowered people is well known. So they didn’t know if you’d like me anymore.” His eyes faded back to blue and he looked up at the sky again, he couldn’t read Bruce’s expression under the cowl anyway. “It took a lot of subtle work to convince them to send us both so you could ‘decide which of us you wanted’.”
“Do you expect me to choose one of you?” Bruce asked, unreadable as ever.
“No, not really, you clearly like having many children. Damian still thinks now that you have a biological heir you’ll turn your adopted children away, but that’s grandfather talking and he’s a fool. If you do choose one then choose Damian, I’ll be fine on my own but he needs the help navigating this world. He’s strong, he’s clever, he’s more observant than me, he’ll make a good detective. He’ll be more loyal than me once you win him over too. He’ll be harder to break of the bad habits, I’ve never been as good at killing as him, but once he learns the way you do things I think he’ll be a good Robin.” Danny said, pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around them, it was a bit chilly on the roof.
Batman hummed and nodded, which was good, if he had continued to push Danny would have had to bring up Jason. He knew that Jason was alive of course, but Bruce didn’t and Danyal would say he was more likely to end up like Jason if he had to but that was a last resort.
“Well I want you to know that both of you are very welcome here. And neither of you have to be Robin, or anything that you don’t want to be. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, and you being a meta doesn’t change that at all. Both of you have a home here,” Bruce assured.
Danny nodded and gave Bruce a smile before standing up and smiling. “That’s good to hear,” He said, while not believing it at all. Bruce couldn’t and shouldn’t offer such unconditional support after just meeting them. “I should get back inside, it’s getting cold, and I am tired,” He said, wandering over the edge of the roof and stepping off, twisting around to grab the edge and swung off and back through the window before closing the window and brushing himself off so he wouldn’t get to much dirt in his sheets before crawling into bed.
He wasn’t fully asleep before the door to his room opened just enough for Damian to slip inside, he wasn’t surprised, Damian and he weren’t as independent from each other as they acted like they were. “You should have locked your door and blocked it somehow. We cannot trust the mongrels Father has taken in,” he hissed at Danny.
“Damian, shut up and get over here,” Danny mumbled sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes as he lifted the blankets on the other side of the bed. He heard a scoff and waited as Damian did whatever he needed to to feel like the room was secure and then came over to slide into bed next to Danny. Danny held out his arm, they didn’t exactly cuddle even when like this, but Damian liked to hold Danny’s wrist and feel his pulse. He had done it when they were younger but he had stopped for a while, it had only started up again after he had watched Danny die, it was understandable.
Damian wrapped one hand around Danny’s wrist, seeking out his pulse and tucked the other arm under his pillow, no doubt stashing a knife there. “None of them are going to hurt us Dami. They’re used to having multiple siblings, they probably compete, but other then one notable exception we’ve never heard of any of them trying to kill each other have we?”
“You don’t know that, Father’s has never had a biological child before, they must recognize we’re more of a threat then the others,” Damian argued in hushed tones.
“They won’t, we haven’t even proven ourselves yet. We could be incompetent.”
“We’re not!” Damian objected, his voice raising just a little and Danny hushed him softly.
“No, we’re not, but they don’t know that. I would suggest we keep out heads down for at least a month, we learned what we could about them from a distance but we should observe them. We’ve never been out of the compound except on missions, we have a lot to learn and whoever does end up his heir will have to be able to pretend to be normal. I intend to take Tim up on the lessons on popular media, perhaps it isn’t practical, but what about when we inevitably have to interact with people our own age at parties? What about interviews?
“We don’t want to reflect badly on father and if we don’t know Anything about such thing, or have any hobbies, or anything of the sort people will assume he treats us poorly.” Danny murmured and Damian harumphed, even without opening his eyes Danny could tell Damian was gritting his teeth.
“Why should we care what the uncultured masses think?” He hissed furiously and Danny cracked a small smile.
“Because father does. As the Bat his reputation is half of his weapon, and his identity as Bruce Wayne is carefully crafted to both divert suspicion from him being Batman and to make people like him. Father understands well how ones image is a tool, and being a good father is part of his image as Bruce Wayne, we will have to play into it if we want to succeed.” Danyal explained as gently as he could, he didn’t believe all of what he was saying really, or at least the way that he was framing it. He was framing it in the way he thought was best to make Damian start giving the outside world a chance, and hoping that when he did give it a chance he would find he liked it.
It was quiet for a long time which was good, it meant that Damian was properly considering what Danny had to say. He was nearly asleep before Damian spoke again, rousing Danny from his half doze. “Alright, knowing these ‘siblings’ patterns would help, and I can concede the point on the importance of reputation,” He said stiffly.
Danyal had to suppress a smile at his brother’s tone. “Good. And try to remember that unlike Mother and Grandfather batman has a rule against killing. Anything you do you must make sure it is never tracked back to us, especially because he’s not going to suddenly stop caring about them because we share his blood. If he finds out we hurt one of them it would absolutely ruin our chances, or be a huge set back at the very least,” He added, again trying to gently steer his brother in the direction he wanted. He was being manipulative, but it was the way he knew that worked.
“Father should know better then to develop such misplaced attachments,” Damian grumbled but then after a moment of silence he sighed and nodded. “All of our missions have had to be done in secret anyway, with time and planning we’ll manage.”
Well, it had bought them time and that had been Danyal’s goal so he nodded as well. “Good, now sleep Ahki, we’ve both had a long day and I’m tired.”
Damian let out a soft hum and that was all, he kept hold of Danny’s wrist even as he fell asleep, as he always did. Danny liked it too, the physical reminder that Damian was there, that they were safely together. He didn’t think that either of them would have to sneak out before dawn to make sure they weren’t caught and punished for such childish behaviour, he truly felt like they could rest.
Part three
810 notes · View notes
apocalypse-shuffle · 11 months
Text
RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)
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“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)
| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.
| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?
| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)
| 2k+ words
| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.
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Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.
With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.
And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.
Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.
Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.
At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.
Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?
“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”
Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.
“Fine.”
You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.
Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.
You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.
“Take this shit off.”
He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.
Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.
Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”
He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.
“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”
Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.
It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.
The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.
It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.
The sob you let out makes you both flinch.
One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.
“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”
Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”
His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.
“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.
Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.
“We can…try again?”
The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.
When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.
When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.
When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.
Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.
To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.
“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”
To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.
You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.
“Please?”
You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.
“You’re asking for a lot.”
He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.
No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.
“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”
You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.
From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.
One blink. Six.
“You remember Rena?”
In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”
Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.
“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”
“We figured.”
You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.
“I’m not that same boy anymore.”
You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.
“I can tell.”
Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.
“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”
That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.
“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”
Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.
Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.
Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.
Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.
The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.
At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.
You’re rushing forward before you know.
Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.
Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.
Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.
There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.
He’s hugging you back.
You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.
“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”
Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.
It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.
“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.
“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”
“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”
You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.
Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.
You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.
From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.
Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.
The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.
It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.
“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”
Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.
“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”
What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.
“You can’t mean that.”
“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”
Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.
“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”
And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.
…TBC
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.
Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.
• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.
Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik
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shuhwaa · 3 months
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Minnie | Ruined orgasm [M]
Kinkmas 2023 - Day 15 (G)I-dle Minnie x fem!reader words: ~800 genre: smut (dom!Minnie, reader is kind of a brat, some degradation, Minnie calls her a slut, mommy kink, breast play, fingering, ruined orgasm (reader receiving)) warnings: heavy dom-sub dynamics
(requested)
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The second your girlfriend makes the others leave the practice room so she could pin you against the big mirror on the wall nearest to you, you know you've gone too far. 
"Babe..." she says, her voice deep, eyes dropping to your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, and as a result she just presses your wrists to the cold glass behind you with more force. It hurts a little, but it causes heat to rush through your whole body and you rub your legs together.
You've been horny ever since getting up that morning and so far there hasn't been a chance for you or Minnie to take care of that. And at this point she can't really blame you for not behaving anymore, after you've had to spend the majority of the day in this state, right? What she can probably blame you for is the way you've been eyeing the other members, staring at the way their bodies moved as they practiced their new song a little too much in an attempt to make your girlfriend jealous. You've very much succeeded with your plan, or she wouldn't currently be staring you down as if you had made a big mistake, and it makes you excited for what kind of punishment you're going to get.
"Are you gonna be a good little girl for me?" Minnie asks, and you immediately nod, almost letting out a whine at the way she towers over you now. "You gonna stop whatever you were doing just a minute ago if I fuck you real good on the spot?"
"Y-yes, mommy..." you whimper, and you can see a spark of satisfaction light up in her eyes. She smirks at you and then she adds,
"Good. Then keep your hands above your head. And don't you dare make a sound." Running the fingers of one hand up your shirt to grab your chest, she watches in amusement as you bite your lip to avoid making a sound when she pinches your nipple, rolling it between her fingers to make you whine. Her other hand finds its way under your skirt, and when she immediately pushes two fingers inside you, you gasp.
"No panties huh... such a desperate little slut..." she comments under her breath and you clench around her at her words.
"Y-yes..." you mewl. "Need mommy so bad..."
"You really can't go a single day without mommy's fingers in your pretty little pussy, huh?" She fucks you roughly, but with how wet you are from all the things she says to you, her fingers pump in and out of you with ease. When you instinctively buck your hips to meet her in the middle, she huffs, stepping closer to keep you from moving and she squeezes your nipple as a warning. A gasp escapes you at the momentary pain, and you hold still, forming fists above your head instead and digging your nails into your palms.
"Such a desperate little slut," she mutters, and when you clench around her again at the nickname, she smirks at you. "Like it when I’m rough with you, hm? You and your pretty little cunt..."
"Y-yes, mommy..." you whine. "S-so close..."
"What? You're coming close?" she repeats.
"Y-yeah..." You throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you can see your high fast approaching. "G-gonna cum...!"
"I don't think you will," you hear her mutter, and the next second you feel her pulling out, a sense of deprivation overcoming you. You feel like you've been left hanging mid-air, the build up of your orgasm still lingering in your body, and you try to catch your breath as you realize it's not going to happen. 
Minnie grabs your chin instead, lifting it up to give you a rather soothing kiss, and when she parts from you, she whispers,
"Your pretty little cunt belongs to me only, got that?" You have no choice but to nod obediently, even though you feel like yelling at her for leaving you hanging like that. "Maybe if you're a good girl for the rest of the day, mommy will let you cum at home." You nod once again, and then you can't do anything but watch her walk away to tell the others that they can continue practice. Sinking to your knees as you adjust your clothes a little, you wait patiently for the rest of its duration, your eyes glued only to your girlfriend, all the while hoping for her to ruin you once you get home.
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whatsk-poppinhomies · 11 months
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Pairing : Mafia!Jeong Yunho x F!Reader TW : angst ; stabbing ; mentions of blood ; hospitals ; it's still kinda fluffy though because Yunho isn't actually an asshole ; Word Count : 3.0k
“Your phone is ringing…” You mumbled tiredly, letting out a little yawn as your arm draped over Yunhos chest, snuggling closer to his side, wanting to ignore the vibrating of his device against the hardwood of the end table. You hoped that he’d ignore it too, but his arm quickly slid out from underneath you to snatch his phone off the table, already on his way off of the bed to leave the room. “You could just let it ring, or turn it off…” You muttered, now wide awake from the sudden shift. 
“It’s just a quick call, love. I’ll be right back.” He tried to soothe you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, his hand brushing over your hair before he walked out of the room, the door left cracked just enough to let the light from the hallway shine in across the floor. Even though he was talking quietly, his voice was low enough in the silence that it almost seemed loud, the muffled words unintelligible, yet they drifted into the room and filled your ears. 
You tried to listen, but it seemed like the more you tried to hear, the quieter he got. He was always so secretive, sneaking around and never telling you where he was going. You always tried not to let it bother you, but laying in bed, his side now growing cold the longer he was gone, the warmth underneath the blankets had left with him… your stomach began to twist as thoughts filled your mind about what he could be doing behind your back. Was he cheating? Was there another woman, a secret family? Were you the side piece that he went to when he didn’t want to go home to his other family too late at night? 
“I’m back…” He whispered, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him before climbing into the bed beside you, his arm moving to wrap around your waist once more and pull you against his chest, but your body tensed up as you sniffled softly into your pillow. “Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispered urgently, quickly rolling you over as if he could see you in the darkness of the room. “Are you ill? Do you not feel well?” 
You held your breath, thinking that maybe in doing so the sobs would subside, but after a few seconds you shakily gasped, crying full force now as you stared up at the outline of him in the faint light that came in from underneath the door. “Y-You’re cheating… On me… I kn-know it!” You stammered out, weakly trying to push him off of you, but he let his weight drop a little more, holding you in place beneath him. 
“What are you talking about?” He sounded shocked, and even a little bit offended that you’d assume such a thing about him. “I would never do something like that… You know that I love you and only you. Where are these thoughts coming from…?” 
“Who called?” You whispered, and now he was tensing up, you wished that you could see his face, see his expression, but just from the way his body reacted to those words, it only made your thoughts seem more valid. “It was your girlfriend… Or your wife… Or fiancee… Wasn’t it? She wanted to know where you’re at? What did you tell her?” 
“No no… God, no.” He sighed, finally getting up, propping himself up on his knees. You could hear the deep breath that he took, the sound of it being forcefully pushed out. “It was my boss… Okay? Please don’t… Don’t assume things like that. You’re the only girl in my life… There’s no one else.” 
“Your boss?” You questioned, unable to retain the scoff that left you. “Right, because everyone's boss calls them at 3 in the morning, Yunho. Don’t play me for a fool, I’m not stupid.” You retorted, rolling over onto your side and pulling the blankets higher around you. “Just be honest with me… I’m tired of the sneaking around, I’m tired of wondering where you’re at. I’m just tired of trying to find excuses for the way you act to make myself feel better.” 
The light suddenly flicked on and you were being forced to look at him again, his face solemn but serious as he stared you dead in the eye. “I don’t want you to wonder, I don’t want you to worry. I want you to believe me when I tell you that I’m not cheating on you. I’m not and I would never. It was my boss, honestly. My job is… Not the best… And I don’t want you getting involved in it. Just trust me, okay? Please?” 
His fingers were gripping tightly into the sheets as his eyes bored into your own. You had never seen him look so serious, so panicked since the two of you had been together. You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. His job had always been kept a secret from you, and even now, he wasn’t going to tell you what he did even though he was practically using it as an alibi. “Fine.” You muttered, huffing loudly as you pulled the sheets from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the light. You weren’t sure what was the truth with him or what was a lie, but you knew that you were going to find out one way or another. 
“I’ll be back a little after dinner time, alright love?” Yunho said on his way out of the bedroom, his fingers working to finish buttoning his white button up shirt. “Don’t wait up too long for me.” He walked over to where you stood in the kitchen, grabbing a waffle off the stack that you had made. “I’ll take it to go.” 
You gave him a smile as you turned to look at him, nodding along with his words. “Get to work safely, text me when you get there.” He hummed in agreement, his lips wrapped around the waffle. “You’re gonna get crumbs all over your shirt, babe.” You groaned, brushing your fingers along his chest to clean him up. “I love you.” And you did, even if he was doing the unthinkable, the unforgivable, you knew that you’d still love him. 
“I love you more.” He murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, his fingers gripping onto the loose fabric of your night shirt, pulling you closer and chuckling into your mouth when you stumbled forward against his chest. “I’ll try to finish up fast… want to come back home to you.” His voice was husky now, his cheeks burning bright. 
You chewed your bottom lip shyly as you looked up at him, silence filling the space between the two of you, but you quickly patted his shoulder. “Alright… off you go. I’ll see you later, babe.” You murmured sheepishly, and he laughed softly at your shyness, ruffling your hair before turning to head out the door. 
Now came the hard part, the part where you had to follow him to wherever it was that he was going but stay far enough away that he didn’t actually see that you were following him. Was he really going to work, or was he going to meet up with whoever it was that had called him at that ungodly hour last night? 
You were still in your nightshirt, not even caring at this point as you slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed your keys. Did it even matter how you looked? If he was actually working, you’d just stay in the car and go right back home. If he was cheating, well… You were sure that being humiliated by your boyfriend in that way would be much worse than being seen in your pajamas. 
As soon as his car took off, you rushed out of the house and climbed into your own, making sure to keep him in your sights no matter which road he turned down or which side street he took. It was only when he started getting further away from the city that you began questioning where the hell he was actually going. Did he realize that you were following him? Was he just messing with you now? 
Part of you wanted to just turn around and head back home, forget about this whole thing and find a new way to figure out what he was actually doing. There had to be an easier way than this, and maybe when he got home he’d actually question what you were doing if he found out. 
You were on the verge of turning around in the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse on the side of the road… Until he pulled into the parking lot. There were only two other cars there and you assumed that maybe they were just fishermen that were using the dock on the back to sit on. If Yunho was cheating, this definitely wasn’t the kind of place he’d want to meet someone in… Right? 
At this point you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t pull into the parking lot, he would easily spot you there, so you drove for a little bit, giving him time to do whatever it was that he was doing, maybe he’d pull back out, maybe he had the same idea you did and was just using the parking lot to turn back around. 
You drove, and you drove, and then you turned around, his car still in the parking lot when you drove by, so you quickly pulled in, parking as far away from his car as you could before climbing out. Whatever the warehouse was being used for, it wasn’t what it had been originally made for. There was no sound of active work going on, there was no talking that could be heard. The only thing you did hear was the sound of water lapping against the rocky wall just below the pier. You’d need to get in… You just didn’t know how. 
“He’s in your trunk?” Yunho asked in disbelief as he stared at the guy in front of him. “I said to get him here, not fucking kidnap him!” He groaned loudly with annoyance, running his hands over his face before motioning to the door. “Hurry up and go get him, and I swear to god, if we get busted because of your idiocy, you’re gonna be next.” He watched with irritation as the man ran out the door, dropping down into the little office chair. “I can’t trust anyone in here to do shit. And if any of you call me at that time again, you’re out. You understand?” The rest of the men that were gathered in front of him all nodded in agreement until a scream was heard from outside, everyone's head whipping towards the door. 
“Don’t worry! I got it handled!” The man’s voice called from outside, and then light was streaming in through the door as he dragged in the body of what Yunho assumed to be the man from the trunk. “Looks like you were followed, boss. What do you want me to do? Do I kill ‘em?” The man was far too excited as he pulled out his knife, the sun reflecting off the cleanly polished silver. “She’s kinda pretty though… Maybe I can keep her for a bit?” 
The sound of whimpering came from the shadowed body that was kneeling limply in front of the man, and Yunhos skin crawled, his stomach twisting with nausea. He knew that whimper, he knew every single sound that could ever leave your mouth. “Did you hurt her?” He was on edge, clearly tense as he slowly walked over to the man. 
“Of course I did, boss. Just a little bit though… She ain’t dead yet. Just a little cut up is all.” The man said proudly, finally letting go of your hair that he had been gripping tightly onto to hold your head up. “You can have ‘er first if ya want.” 
Your body fell forward and even though Yunho was seeing red, wanting nothing more than to murder the man that had hurt you, you were hurt, and he needed to make sure you were okay. He dropped to his knees in front of you, sitting you up carefully to look you over. “Love… Hey… Y/N…” He whispered, his eyes darting over your body, and it was easy to spot the stain of red that seeped through your nightshirt, the once baby blue fabric turning a dark crimson red. 
Your body jolted as you coughed, blood spraying from your mouth as you did, splattering against his face. “You weren’t… Cheating…” You sputtered, and even though your eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the pain clear on your face, your lips still seemed to pull up into a smile. 
“Of course I wasn’t…” He said shakily, pulling you into his lap to hold you close as his head whipped around to the very confused and very on edge men behind him. “Why are you standing there like a bunch of fucking idiots?! Get my keys and get my car started!” He shouted, although the tone of authority was wavering. He was angry, he was scared. “Don’t talk anymore, okay? I’m gonna get you to the hospital…” He brushed your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead as he cradled you against his chest. “If I were you…” His voice got quiet, his head rising up to stare at the man in front of him. “I’d run now… I’d hide… Because once she’s in the hospital… You’re dead. And if she doesn’t make it… You’re gonna wish you were never born.” 
The man didn’t even have a chance to respond as Yunhos car was pulled up to the door. You were his number 1 priority, you were right now, and you always would be. 
You sat in the hospital bed, munching on tiny ice cubes as you watched the news on the tv screen in front of you. There was a murder in the abandoned warehouse, and there wasn’t just one body found, but there was another body in the trunk of one of the cars in the parking lot. Your car had at some point been driven back to yours and Yunhos shared apartment, although you weren’t sure by who, and right now you didn’t really care. There was only one thing on your mind, one thought that was eating away at you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 
“I didn’t want you to be scared… I didn’t want you to think I was some… Evil person. I didn’t want you to leave me.” He mumbled, his hand holding tightly onto yours as his head hung low. “I never thought that you’d follow me… I- I told you not to worry… I told you…” 
“I thought you were cheating… I didn’t know what to do… I just wanted to be sure that you weren’t. Even if you did tell me what you did… I probably wouldn’t have believed you… This would have happened anyway.” You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you dropped your eyes from the tv screen. “You told him he had a chance… You didn’t even let him run…” You commented when you heard the man’s name on the television. 
“He hurt you… He didn’t deserve a chance.” Yunho stated matter-of-factly, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. “I should have told you anyway… I should have taken you there so you had no reason to doubt and this wouldn’t have happened. Would you have left me though? Would you have been scared of me? Are you scared of me?” 
It was something that you still hadn’t thought about. Were you scared of him? Did you have a reason to be? If you were to try to leave him, would he off you like he offed the man that hurted you? It’s not like you wanted to leave him though… He was still the Yunho that you fell in love with, he clearly cared more about you than anything else. “I’m not scared… Not of you… But they know where we live… They could-” 
He shushed you quickly, although it wasn’t because he wanted you to be quiet, he just didn’t want you to finish whatever it was that you were thinking. “They won’t hurt you, they won’t come near the house anymore. Everyone knows now that you’re not to be touched, you’re not to be looked at even. You’ll be safe, you’ll be protected… I’ll make sure of that. You’re worth more to me than all of the money in the world… I won’t let anything happen to you, not anymore.” He pushed himself up off the chair that he had been sitting in, smiling warmly as he leaned in to kiss you softly. “Now get some sleep, love. I’ve got some calls to make, and then I’ll be right back up here with you… Okay?”
You sighed softly, sinking into the hospital bed and turning off the tv. “Are you gonna be safe?” You whispered, refusing to look at him as you asked the question. You weren’t sure how long he had been doing what he does, and it’s not like he had ever come home with anything that would indicate he was hurt in any way or in any sort of danger, but now that you did know what he does, you worried about him. Maybe that’s why he hid everything from you in the first place. He didn’t want you to worry about him, but now it was inevitable. 
“Don’t be silly, love.” He said lightly, playfully booping your nose. “I’m always safe. I told you not to worry about me, you need to think about getting better. Now…” He pulled the blankets up around you, tucking them in around your sides. “Get some rest, I’ll sneak you in something good to eat after you wake up.” 
He gave you a little wink before leaving the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it once he was out in the hall. Things would be complicated now, nothing would be the same, and neither of you would be safe once you were out of the hospital. He’d keep you safe though, always, no matter what happens. 
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