#[ and despite all that he was the last thing on her mind regardless of her state of mind :))))) ]
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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months ago
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Third Wheel
Dark!SatoSugu x reader
(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)
Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back
Word Count: 7.3k
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When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 
It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 
It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 
And you were just extra baggage. 
You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 
But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 
It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 
"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 
Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 
"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 
You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 
You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 
When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 
You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 
"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 
He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 
"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 
Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 
When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 
~
I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore
That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 
"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 
You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 
"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 
"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 
Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 
You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 
~
Satoru appears first. 
You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 
Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 
When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 
"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 
You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 
"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 
He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 
He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 
"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 
It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 
You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 
"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 
You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 
"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 
He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 
There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 
"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 
He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 
"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 
She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 
"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 
"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 
"For what?" 
He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 
"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 
You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 
"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 
"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 
"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 
"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 
He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 
Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 
But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 
"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 
I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 
Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 
A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 
"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 
He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 
"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 
His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 
"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 
How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.
You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 
"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 
"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 
You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 
"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 
"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 
"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 
"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 
He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 
There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 
"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 
"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"
"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 
You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 
"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 
"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 
Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 
Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 
You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 
"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 
"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 
Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 
"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 
Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 
"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 
Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 
"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 
You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 
When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 
He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 
And so did Suguru. 
You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 
"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 
"Good." You respond. "You?" 
"Good." 
Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 
"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 
"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 
He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 
"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 
It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 
"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 
"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 
"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 
That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 
But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 
And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 
"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 
Suguru frowns, troubled. 
"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 
"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 
"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 
He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 
"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 
You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 
You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 
"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 
It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 
You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 
You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 
"I love you." 
It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 
"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 
You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 
You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 
He's miserable. 
You did this. This was all you. 
"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 
They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 
Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.
But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 
 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 
Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 
Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 
"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 
"But what?" You press. 
Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 
"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 
You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 
"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 
You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 
~
It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.
You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 
"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 
"You'll see!" You chirp back. 
Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 
"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."
"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 
She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 
As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 
Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 
Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 
"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 
Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 
You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 
Shoko freezes mid-sip. 
"What?" She asks. 
"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 
You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 
"What's wrong?" You ask. 
"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 
That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?
"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 
They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 
"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 
Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 
At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 
And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 
"Oh." You breathe. 
"Oh." Utahime whispers. 
"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 
"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 
"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 
"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 
"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 
"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 
"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 
"I-I-" You give up. 
All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 
Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 
"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 
"Do you want us?" 
You take a deep breath. 
You nod. 
She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 
Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 
You break away, panting. 
"You good?" She asks. 
You nod. 
"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 
"What?" 
Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 
"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 
She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 
"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 
"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 
"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 
"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 
Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 
And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 
"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 
"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 
They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 
"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 
There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 
"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 
When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 
You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 
When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 
"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 
You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 
Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 
When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 
You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 
"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 
"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 
Shoko slaps your thigh. 
"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 
Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 
You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 
Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 
"Awake?" She asks. 
"Yeah." You softly say back. 
She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 
"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 
Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 
"I'm gonna get food." 
Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 
"What do you want?" She prompts. 
You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 
The interaction makes your heart warm. 
Still, it can't last. 
When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 
"And where are you going?" She prods. 
You fumble. "Back to my room?" 
"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 
"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 
"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 
"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 
"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 
"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 
You laugh. 
"That's not a joke." She warns. 
"I know." And you kiss her again. 
It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 
They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 
Everything was just perfect. 
And then, it just wasn't. 
You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 
"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 
Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 
You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 
You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 
The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 
The living room is horrific. 
They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 
Suguru doesn't even blink. 
"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 
"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 
Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 
"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 
You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 
"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 
"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 
You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 
But you know you aren't expecting...that. 
His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 
"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 
You step back. They step forward. 
Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 
"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 
"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 
He smiles again. 
"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 
"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."
They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 
The worst part is that everything was your fault. 
Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.
And you speak. 
"I'm sorry." 
Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 
"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 
Satoru halts. You caught him. 
"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."
Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 
"You missed us?" He wonders. 
The lie feels like sand. 
"More than anything." 
His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 
"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 
Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 
Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 
"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 
"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 
You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 
I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 
Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 
"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 
His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 
"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 
He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 
"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 
And then, he grins. 
"But you will be."
Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 
~
You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 
The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 
The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 
They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 
You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 
Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 
"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 
"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 
You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.
"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."
"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.
"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."
You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.
"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.
"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."
Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.
"Satoru, please."
"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.
Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.
"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."
The door shuts, and everything goes dark.
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jjk4isen · 3 months ago
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ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .
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❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞
summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.
desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns
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dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.
love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?
and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.
so how much more would it have ached for toji?
“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.
nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?
if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.
“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.
your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.
the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.
you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.
was he like that to his wife? maybe not.
does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?
you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?
you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.
a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.
taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.
when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.
“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.
“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.
“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.
“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.
“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”
“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.
“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.
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toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.
he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.
this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.
maybe this isn't just about gambling.
with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.
toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.
he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.
he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.
toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.
he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.
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toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.
he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.
“hey kid, where's your mama?”
toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.
“m
mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.
“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.
“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”
“yeah? i love your mama too.”
toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.
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the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.
instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.
the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.
──
it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.
“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.
“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.
“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?
“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”
is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.
“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.
“are you fushiguro?”
that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?
“no. you have the wrong person.”
“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.
“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.
“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”


and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.
he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.
“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.
“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.
your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.
and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.
your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.
“say something damn it!”
you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.
“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.
“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?
no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.
“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.
when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.
but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my
 my late wife” he says wryly.
your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.
opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.
and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.
“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”
your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.
“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.
toji sighs. he has no excuse.
“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.
your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”
his words fall on deaf ears “you know
 i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little
 i thought you'd let me in.”
you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.
“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”
now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.
you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.
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you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.
so then, why were you back here?
it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.
saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.
that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.
standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.
maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?
closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?
forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?
you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.
your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.
the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.
“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.
“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.
“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”
“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.
“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”
“wait what was that??”
“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.
“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”
your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.
“so you do know him.”
'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.
then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.
and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.
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parfaitblogs · 2 months ago
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fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader
in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!
Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 
Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 
Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.
You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 
However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 
And then he was free. 
From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 
But he was free.
And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 
Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 
"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.
"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."
"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.
Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 
"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 
"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"
"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 
"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"
"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"
"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."
"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."
To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 
Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 
There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 
Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 
"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 
"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"
Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."
"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."
"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 
"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."
"Oh."
Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.
"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."
"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."
"I think I want to."
Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."
"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."
"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 
"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."
"Do you want to hurt me?"
"No."
"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."
"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."
"Not funny."
"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 
"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 
"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."
"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 
"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"
You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 
You couldn't complain. 
It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 
"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 
"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 
"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 
"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 
"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 
"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 
"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."
"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."
"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.
You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.
Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 
"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 
"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."
"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 
"Nope. Forget I said anything."
"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."
"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 
"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."
"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."
"Yes, but how?" 
"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."
"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 
"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 
"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 
"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."
"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 
Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 
Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."
"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 
"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 
He nipped at your nose. "It is."
"Can we compromise?" 
"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 
In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 
"Head," you corrected. "And no."
He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"
"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 
"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."
You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."
"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"
"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 
"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 
Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.
Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 
Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 
A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 
The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 
He liked to hear you. 
Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).
"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 
"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"
"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"
"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 
"What? Why?"
"Do I need a reason?"
You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 
"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"
"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."
"I know," you replied.
"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."
You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."
"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."
Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."
"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 
Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 
"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.
"Yes."
"Thank you."
His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.
"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.
You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 
And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 
Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.
Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.
Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 
"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 
"Touch myself?" 
"Mhm."
"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."
"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"
"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."
"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"
You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 
"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 
He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 
"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 
"Hm?"
Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.
"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 
In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 
So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 
Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 
"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 
A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.
Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 
Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 
Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 
"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 
"Please don't stop."
"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 
Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 
His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 
The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 
His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 
"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 
"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 
"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 
"Yes."
"Good."
Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 
"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 
"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"
"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 
A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 
"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 
"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 
"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 
His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 
A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 
"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."
"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 
Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."
"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."
"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 
A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).
Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 
"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 
"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"
"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."
"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."
Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 
Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 
His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 
There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 
"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 
"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"
"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 
"Good."
"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 
"Help?"
Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 
Thankfully, you didn't have to. 
He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 
"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 
"Do you want me to?"
Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."
He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 
"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 
You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 
"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 
Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 
"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 
"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."
You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"
"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."
"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 
"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."
"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."
"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."
"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."
"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."
Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 
"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 
"Okay."
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amiableness · 24 days ago
Text
Peonies ; part four
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Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader
Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.
Word Count: 4772
Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!
A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!
SERIES MASTERLIST <3
“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.
“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.
“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.
“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”
“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.
“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.
“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.
You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.
“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.
Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.
You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”
“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.
A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.
You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.
Not in the way you wanted, at least.
If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.
Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.
In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.
And that was absolutely terrifying.
You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”
“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”
“But with Theo
” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”
Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.
.·。.Â·ă‚œâœ­Â·.Â·âœ«Â·ă‚œÂ·ă€‚.
Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.
And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.
In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.
“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.
“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.
“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.
“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night. 
“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.
“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”
“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.
He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”
“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.
Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”
“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”
“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”
“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.
Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”
Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”
Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”
Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”
Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.
Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”
Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”
Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”
“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”
“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.
“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”
Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”
“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”
Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”
“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”
“I’m not fucking messing with her—”
“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”
Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”
Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”
Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.
“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.
“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.
Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.
“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”
Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.
.·。.Â·ă‚œâœ­Â·.Â·âœ«Â·ă‚œÂ·ă€‚.
“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.
“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them. 
He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.
You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”
“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”
It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.
But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”
On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.
When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.
There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.
The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.
“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction. 
From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.
Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”
A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.
“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.
“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”
“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.
“Yeah.” You confirm.
For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.
You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.
It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts. 
You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.
“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.
“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.
“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.
“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy. 
“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. 
“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud. 
“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.
After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.
As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.
So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed. 
You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.
Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.
And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.
You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.
It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.
Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.
But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.
“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”
The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.
But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."
“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.
“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.
“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.
“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”
please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work đŸ€
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hellisharchive · 10 months ago
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The Most Divine
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➀ Drabbles of how Lucifer and Adam would fight over gender neutral reader!
➀ 18+, NSFW
♡...... LUCIFER would take notice of you immediately in the Hotel, from your voice to your body to your eyes, you were beautiful in every sense of the word. He treated you like royalty, like you were the best thing he could have found ever in all his billions of years of existence. He never made any moves on you though, the mental scars from Lillith leaving him still fresh in his mind and heart. You two were both really good friends though and he wouldn't trade that for the world.
♡...... ADAM would take notice of you during your first year in Hell as you were out during extermination day. He hates sinners with his very being due to a certain fallen angel, but something about you enamored him. He managed to find you alone and decides to take his chance. He hit on you and he ended up throughly fucking you in exchange for being spared this year.
♡...... LUCIFER makes sure you're ok after extermination day, you tell him that you ran into Adam and that he spared you, but not the true reason why. It made Lucifer incredibly angry as he knew you were lying, but played it off as he didn't want to be too overbearing and controlling. He was just concerned for you as Adam wasn't the best guy, regardless if he spared you or not
♡...... ADAM decides to watch you from heaven, keeping it a secret from Lute as she would surely scold him and never let him live another day without her disproving self. But seeing you talk and laugh with Lucifer made his blood boil. How dare you move onto that bastard after you just got fucked by the original dick? He didn't expect his attraction to you grow this bad, but it every passing moment when he didn't have important shit do, he watched you and Lucifer be all buddy-buddy.
♡...... LUCIFER would finally confront you about Adam, feeling jealous that he would be so much better in bed than that man. He knew he would treat you right. He watched as you stared up at the sky, knowing you were missing that angel for some odd reason. You admitted it right away, the guilt eating away so badly it was hard to contain. You did miss him despite him really being a terrible person, you did miss him. He shushed you and told you it was ok and that he wasn't mad, he was just concerned if he hurt you in anyway.
♡...... ADAM would reach his breaking point when he sees Lucifer tllt your chin up and say that he would always be there for you. Always make you feel better and always make you feel loved. He couldn't take it. Watching the scene play out with a hug, you two parted ways. Watching and waiting until Heaven's mistake was alone, the first man opened up a portal to Lucifer lounging on his couch on his phone when he looked up, not surprised at the sight before him.
♡...... "Well if it isn't the first man. Been a while since Eden? How've been? Fucking my people you swore to kill every year?"
♡...... "Shut the hell up! You stole Lillith from me. You stole Eve from me. You will NOT steal them from me!"
♡...... LUCIFER stood up then, despite his shorter stature, he walked right up to Adam with a smirk. He wasn't going to back down. He wasn't scared of this asshole. Even if he was scared to let you in, he still loved you very much and didn't want you wasting your time here in Hell with this man.
♡...... ADAM simply looked down at him, letting his anger be very known to the fallen angel. The key word is fallen. He was a traitor to everything good, and Adam would show you everything good and more if you let him instead of Lucifer.
♡...... "You think they were screaming your name? Last night, we were going so hard they cummed multiple times on my face just from my tounge" It was a lie, you both never had any sex at all, but he wanted Adam to feel intimated.
♡...... "That's a fucking lie. I've been watching them and you laugh and joke but never fuck. At least I actually fucked them unlike your coward ass. How's Lillith by the way? She really seems to love being with you, prick"
♡...... LUCIFER was going to quip back as the snide about his ex-wife especially upset him, but the door opened and you walked in sleepily and asked what was going on while rubbing your eye. Every one of you froze as the situation was becoming apparent to you as you woke up. He watched as you started to panic, knowing that this situation got too out of hand. You rushed up and demanded what was going on in a half sleep state. He was too angry to fully appreciate how adorable you were like that.
♡...... ADAM didn't feel threatened by your prescence at all, in fact, this was going to work in his favor. Smirking, he sauntered up behind your smaller form and wrapped his hands around your shoulders, leaning down and asking in a soft voice if Lucifer ever fucked you. You said no and shook your head. He could tell by the fact that you were shaking that you were very anxious yet thrilled at what was happening. He knew you liked Lucifer, he was just too much of a pussy to take what he wants. It's ok though, more for him.
♡...... LUCIFER hated how Adam defaulted to sex instead of what a real relationship is and its far more than lust. It was always being there for them, helping them, ensuring they were safe and loved. Not someone who fucked them and stalked them. But the ruler of Hell would play his game. Walking closer to your caged in self, he got right up in front of your face with a certain type of smirk you've never seen him wear before. However, his attention was turned above your head to Adam as the taller angel rested his head on top of yours.
♡...... "What's big shot doing now huh?"
♡...... "How about this? We both fuck them at the same time and see which one of us they like better"
♡...... "Deal"
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garbinge · 4 months ago
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HARMONY AFTER THE STORM
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Tyler Owens x F!Reader // Word Count: 2.7k Summary: After a long day, you wind down back at the motel and share a sweet moment at the parking lot bonfire with Tyler Owens. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Fluff. Established relationship. Light angst (based on details of the heaviness of storm chasing). No use of y/n. A/N: Trying out somethin a liiiil new layout wise for my fics! Tyler Owens brain rot is in full effect and this fluffy little number makes my heart warm.
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Your phone speaker hummed as music vibrated against the bathroom sink while you washed the day off in the shower. The motel’s water pressure wasn’t the best, but you weren’t complaining, you were happy there was hot water and soap left. You were always the last of the crew to shower, while that ran the risk of running out of hot water, it also awarded you the most peaceful shower. Everyone was gone, outside gathered around bonfires, maybe fixing up equipment. Point was, it left you alone to decompress with your music and sometimes you’d sneak a shower beer in as well, you were a southern girl after all. 
After a day of chasing storms, getting dirt practically embedded into your skin, the chaos of all the voices, the engines, the winds, this was your peace, your grounding. The soft music buzzing as you swayed back and forth as the water fell down your body. Washing down the drain along with the dirty water was all your anxiety from the day. While you loved chasing tornadoes, you also fully were aware of the effect it had on your psyche. You weren’t as easy as the others in the crew. Boone loved the thrill, he was crazy in the best way possible. Lilly was a free-spirit, she would go wherever the winds blew her and thrive effortlessly. Dani and Dexter, they were too smart for their own good, every equation, every problem, they’d smile through finding the solution. And Tyler, well, he was a good combination of it all while also just plainly and simply loving it. The clouds, the storms, he found beauty in them. For him it was passion.  For you, you did enjoy it, the thrill of it all, the problem solving, the fact that it kept you on your toes moving.  And you couldn’t lie, the storms were fucking beautiful when you really looked at them. But for you the reasoning was more difficult. You wanted to help. But that came with a heavy burden, but for you helping outweighed all those bad moments. That’s how it was for everyone in the crew, you just felt like the mental images of wreckage stayed with you a little longer than everyone else. Which is why these showers were your favorite, it helped you process it all. 
“Hey baby, it’s just me!” Tyler called out as he entered the motel room. “Just lookin’ for Lilly’s drone repair case!” His eyes were looking around the room, there were tons of bags and things scattered across the floor, the beds, and anything resembling a table. His announcement out to you was just so he didn’t startle you with his presence, but he knew very well how important that end of the day shower was to you which is why he wasn’t paying much attention to the open door of the bathroom. 
Between the music on your phone and the shower you didn’t hear him come in. Just continued your swaying, letting the water bounce off your face. As the song changed, you began to mumble along, your voice echoing against the bathroom acoustics despite you only lowly singing with the speaker. 
As Tyler bent down to grab the case, his eyebrows furrowed, the left side of his lips twitched up in a smile, his mouth open as he let out a whispered chuckle. There was a lot crossing his mind at the moment. It was obvious you hadn’t heard him come in, not because you were singing but because you were singing and hadn’t acknowledged him. As he heard you mumbling the country music from damn near a decade ago he couldn’t help but grin. It was music you’d both listen to when you first started dating. The song was one he hadn’t heard in ages but when it filled his ears now, and your voice joined along with it, he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. His head turned towards the bathroom door that was wide open as he stood up straight, the drone case now in his hand resting at his side. The frosted shower curtain tried its best to censor out what was behind it, but your blurred silhouette could still be seen as you moved your hips back and forth to the beat. That grin on Tyler's grin didn’t fade, if anything it grew bigger. Dropping the case on the bed before walking over to the bathroom, he leaned his shoulder on the open door frame as his arms crossed, and his right foot crossed over the left. Seeing you like this made his heart happy, he was no stranger to the weight your storm chasing days had on you. His mind couldn’t help but jump back to those first few years of your relationship, ones that were littered with memories of late night drives, line dancing and stepping on eachother’s feet, camping out in the bed of his truck in the middle of the Arkansas farmland plains. It was crazy that all this time had passed and you hadn’t done any of the things that made you fall in love with each other for what now he realized felt like a really long time. Your lives were consumed with this and while he knew you didn’t mind, it didn’t stop his own from wandering. His head fell down with one more smile, opting to not say anything to you and ruin your post-chase ritual. Pushing off the door frame, he grabbed the case and left the motel room to rejoin the group outside. 
Your hair was still damp from the shower, but you had fresh clothes on and felt like a new person. Quickly you tossed your shoes on, grabbed your phone from the bathroom sink and made your way down the stairs to join the crew. At this point, they had all gathered around the bonfire, leaving the rest of the repairs and work for tomorrow. Guitars of some of the chasers from other groups were playing as the groups gathered with their beers and mingled. It was one of your favorite things about being on the road like this, just random people joining together all in the common interest of storms. But these moments weren't always about twisters, they were about comradery, they were about friendship, laughs. It was memories in the making.
As you reached into the cooler, you pulled out two cans of beer. The condensation and melted ice falling off them in drops as you made your way closer to the bonfire circle. While there weren't many empty seats left around the fire, you knew you always had one reserved for you. You spotted Tyler before you even trekked down the stairs of the motel, his laugh was loud and could be heard from miles away. Your eyes had found him in the crowd almost immediately so once you were on the ground level, all you needed to do was make your way over to him. 
“Hey.” It came out as a whisper in his ear while leaning over the back of the chair he was reclined slightly back on. Your hands fell down against his chest, the cold beers you got for both of you were resting against him now. He stopped talking and looked up at you, his hand instinctively reaching up your arms and guiding you to sit down in his lap which you did without hesitation.
“Hey country girl.” His left hand caught your back as you moved down onto his legs, his other hand resting over your legs that dangled off the side of him as well as the chair. 
As your face scrunched up in a humorous and unclear look, you adjusted yourself in his lap, Tyler providing you support as you did so. 
“Country girl?” You questioned him, still confused as to what he meant. You were a lot of things, nickname wise, to him. He’d come up with something for everything over the years but this was one you hadn’t heard. 
He didn’t answer you, just smiled and placed a quick kiss on your arm before taking one of the beers from your hands to crack open before continuing his conversation from before you arrived.
And if that wasn’t enough, Lilly’s voice was taking you away from even thinking about what Tyler had said. “We fixed the drone!”
Tyler's head was resting on the side of your arm, chatting with the person to his left, although to you it was behind. Your time was being occupied by leaning forward a bit to talk with Lilly who was in the seat to Tyler’s right. She was catching up on the details with Cairo, the drone that had been just as much a part of your crew as each human member. You were so invested in the conversation that you almost missed the familiar strumming in the faint distance. It took you a few seconds but your head turned and took in the guitar players nodding and tapping their feet to the song you were just singing to while you showered. 
Your lips began to curve up, you felt Tyler’s hand move up your back, rubbing it over your shirt. As you looked down at him, your smile still only slightly curved and your eyes knowingly doing all the talking for you, his own grin widened and he looked down away from your gaze with a laugh. 
“Tyler Owens, were you spying on me?” You whispered it, only wanting this to be a moment between the two of you. 
“It’s possible.” He cheesed even harder as he looked back up into your gaze again. 
With a shake of your head, you looked away so you could roll your eyes before nestling in closer to him. Your side was falling against his chest, but your head found its comfortable position rested on his shoulder as you sunk down a bit more. “You told them to play this?” 
“I did.” He said it so matter of fact while looking over at the guitar players, his hands coming around you tighter as he held you as close to him as possible. “I came in to grab somethin’ for Lilly. Called out to you and everythin’.” His shoulders moved your face up and down as he shrugged. “Just as I was about to leave I heard this song start, and some pretty little voice joinin’ along with it.” You felt yourself get a little warm as he said it, a mix of fluster and a little embarrassment. “Got me thinkin’ about when we first started hangin’ out.” 
“S’why I listen to it. It reminds me of you.” You knew Tyler felt a little warm in the cheeks too. 
Both of you closed your eyes and just let the music consume you. His head relaxing slightly on yours as you both slightly moved to the beat. You felt his lips against your temple a couple times as the song went on. Each one saying how much you meant to him. 
As the song began to wind down, Tyler hummed. “We should do some of the old stuff we used to do again.” 
You let out a slight snort, one that made Tyler laugh as well as he waited for some explanation. “Tornado wranglers by day and country line dancers by night?” 
“Was talkin’ more about the truck bed camping and late night drives.” While both of you had done the line dancing thing, it by far wasn’t your favorite event. Thinking about it, you both might have gotten more injured there than you did chasing tornadoes. 
“We could do that.” Agreeing, you still kept your eyes closed shut, enjoying the last bits of the song, reimagining the old memories you shared while now thinking of how you could make them new. “Would be a nice change of pace.” 
“I could join you next time in the shower, too. If you’re just looking for a change of pace.” His eyebrows raised as he opened his one eye to peek over at you for your reaction. 
“Could work.” A smirk played at your lips in response. It was then that you realized the song was starting over and you opened your eyes to look at Tyler as your brows grew closer together. “How many times did you ask them to play it?” You were sitting up now, trying to figure out what Tyler was up to.
His arms were still wrapped around your body despite you moving up. “Told ‘em to play until you danced with me.” 
With a similar eye roll as before, you stood up now, your hands filling the space where his just were on your hips in a slight show of attitude. Those damn blue green eyes were looking up at you with the most tender and sweet look attached to them. One that you couldn’t bear to let down so you extended your hand out for him to take it. “Let’s go, Owens.” 
His hand gripped around yours in seconds and when he stood up, he raised his arm with yours to twirl you around until you spun against his chest. Your free hand raising up to brace for impact on his pecks. “We gotta work on your balance if we’re gonna be going line dancing.” He teased you before starting to walk with you practically connected to his chest to a more open area of the lot. After a couple steps, he was turning his body away from you to lead you through the crowd, his hand still connected with yours as you trailed behind him. Once the more open area was in your midst, he turned towards you and you wrapped your arm over his own so your hand was resting on his shoulder but you were leaning more into him than a more traditional slow dance hand placement. Your other hand still hadn’t let go of his own even as the swaying began, but you did feel his other arm caress your lower back to the beat, not only in a romantic way but one that kept you both moving on rhythm. This wasn’t where you expected your night going, but you were damn enjoying it, that was for sure. 
“I know this is hard on you.” His words weren’t the ones you were expecting, so as your fingers moved from his shoulders to get tangled in his blonde hair, you frowned despite knowing exactly what he was saying and looked down to make a joke out of it.
“Pretty sure I haven’t stepped on your foot once yet.” 
“No,” he laughed before getting serious again, “I just meant, I know the chase, it can wear you down.” 
You nodded in agreement but shrugged up at him, your fingers moving from his hair to lightly trace his cheek. “Stuff like this makes it easier.” 
He dipped his head in acknowledgment of your words before letting the music take over for a bit, but you weren’t going to leave it there. You wanted him to really understand that you meant what you said. 
“You know you still keep me on my toes, Owens.” You spoke to him, still shocked by how the night had progressed. 
“Good, because I don’t need you stepping on mine.” He looked down when you accidentally misstepped causing both of you to come closer together in laughs. He drew you closer, the embrace was one that spoke so much with such a small gesture. It was reassurance, the feeling of never wanting to let you go or let go of the memories you two shared over the years either. 
And that’s when you rested your head on him, now with your bodies completely against each other, your arms wrapped around his neck, realizing this moment would be added to that list. To seal its impression you lifted your head to look up at Tyler, your eyes moving from his to his lips and then brought your interlocked fingers to the nape of his neck to bring his face closer to yours. The soft, intimate kiss was your souvenir from this moment, your way of embedding this memory right along with your other cherished ones.
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Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire ♄ đŸŒȘ Twisters Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @cinderellasmissingshoes (let me know if you'd like to be added!)
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girlwiththoughts13 · 5 months ago
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No place for a Dragon
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Aemond Targaryen x F!reader
Warnings: Targ-cest/ smut!
Word count: 1k
~~~~~
The cold winds and bitter snow that dust over your skin feels far more harsh against the heat your body naturally emits. The frigid temperatures of Winterfell is no place for a dragon. The thought of remaining here until the ends of your days is more frightening than the prospect of marriage. For the lord stark is a kind and honorable man, that rarity alone makes your dreadful thoughts gently fade.
Despite this union being an arranged one-all to strengthen the north as a ally for your mother Rhaenrya- Cregan Stark had done his best the last 2 sennights of your residence in the foreboding halls to quail your concerns of a loveless marriage. He vowed to aways be faithful, and in time, come to love you as deeply as a man loves a woman.
There was no doubt you would preform your duties and give the wolf of the north your companionship, your body, and your name, but your heart was not as compliant.
It's not that you didn't find him attractive or kind or all the things a lady would hope for in a future husband; however your heart simply did not beat, at his more than adequate attributes.
How you wished to rip put your own heart, tear it asunder and remold it to fit the lord stark. He may speak true, as the years come love will grow.
In the main Hall of the keep you clutch onto the furs wrapped around your shoulders and await to meet the kinslayer himself. It has been long since you set your eyes upon your uncle. It seems he is still as brazen as ever, showing up to a house that went against Aegon's claim and alone at that. You wondered what was crossing through his mind. Did he think to take on the soldiers on his own? Even vhagar would not be able to defeat thousands of angry northern men.
Regardless of the trap you suspected, if able, capturing the second son of the whore Queen would be a feat for your side.
Lord stark stood beside you, jaw set and hand tightened around his sword. You could feel his eyes move to the side of your face, no doubt blaming you for the arrival of the man with the largest dragon in the known world.
Continuing to stare straight you decide to break the thick silence. "Will you turn me in to save your house?" The worry has set in your thoughts since the circling of the monstrous beast was spotted. Aemond surely is not here to discuss the notion of peace.
"Do you think so low of me?" You finally meet his gaze and find nothing short of offense, Starks were no oath breakers, to be accused by his betrothed of all people, made him believe he was not doing enough for you or the war efforts.
Before you could answer, the large wooden doors creaked open snapping your stare to the approaching men.
Four men surrounded the dragon prince as they walked, ensuring he did not try to assassinate there liege lord or their princess.
When the men came to a halt your betrothed stepped forward shielding you from view.
"I'd say I admire your boldness but I believe it's just stupidity that has lead you to my lands" Cregan spoke with clear distain and although his back was to you, you know his face is just as thunderous.
"I had to see for myself if the rumors were true, my dear niece being sold off. Tell me Lord Stark has she spread her legs for you yet? If she's anything like her mother then I suppose that answers that." Aemond speaks with a cruel tone and a smirk that never falters splayed across his face. The allegations against you and your mother, wretches a small gasp from your lips.
"How dare you, come here, dishonor Lord Stark and spew vile insults toward my mother the Queen and her daughter? I could have your head for that, send it to your bitch of a mother" The sudden sound of your voice and the threat against his mother struck a nerve if the hard-set in his eye was anything to go by.
"Nyke gƍntan daor māzigon kesÄ«r naejot vÄ«lÄ«bagon nyke jorrāelagon naejot Èłdragon lēda ao mērÄ«" I did not come here to fight I need to speak with you, alone. His switch to your mother tongue was a obvious slight to Cregan, but you had not time to dwell on that, not when he was asking the impossible of you.
You did not give him the satisfaction of answering him in your native language. "Do you think I'd go anywhere with you alone? So that you may slit my throat or worse take me to the red keep as a hostage of the usurpers?"
"Give me one reason not to string you up? Or send you to the Dragon Queen?" Cregan obviously had picked up on Aemond's intentions and had begun to reach his limits of his presence.
The sinister smile returned on Aemond's face, making your blood run cold, knowing his hand was about to be revealed. "You're right. You could kill me right now or keep me as a prisoner, but not before Vhager burns this entire castle to the ground. I am prepared to meet my maker, are you Lord Stark?"
The Lord of Winterfell goes to rebuttal such a threat but Aemond continues. "Or, niece, we could have civil conversation, after which I promise to return you to your pup."
You step around Cregan, prompting him to reach his hand out to stop you from advancing. He gives you a pointed look, one you return.
You place your hand atop his to soothe his worries. You lean up to his ear and he angles his face down to meet yours. "I'll be okay, your house shouldn't suffer over a mere denial of conversation" The whisper of your voice reaches him and only him. You pull away to show your resolve leaning up once more to press a firm kiss on his cheek. Squeezing his arm as you pass.
Reaching Aemond he holds out his own arm to you, one you ignore. He lets out a chuckle and gives his head a light shake.
As you walk Aemond tells you of a cottage he happened upon, a near by place he had left Vhagar awaiting his return. Although you hate the idea of leaving the safety of Winterfell grounds, Aemond will not budge to a private audience in your quarters, therefore you walk silently beside him.
You stop walking when you both reach the door of the quaint cottage. Vhagar a little off to the side puffing out hot air, that reaches you from where you stand. He looks back at you with amusement. "Scared niece?"
Donning a smirk of your own you proceed onward aware of the mistake you were making and finding you did not care at all.
"Ohh.. Fuck!" The moans run out of your open mouth as your slammed up and down on Aemond's cock in rapid motions. The echo of your skins clapping together Is heard throughout the small space and should any one happen to find themselves taking a stroll near the grounds would surely hear the raptures of your pure pleasure.
Aemond latches onto your bouncing tit, suckling at your nipple and bringing a hand to knead the other. His free hand that rested upon your lower back, reaches up to take a strong hold on the back of your head, yanking the sliver tresses back from where you hidden your head in the crook of his neck.
He moves his feet to root them to the ground, to meet your thrust, your rhythm restrained by the small chair you ride him on.
"Does your pup still believe you a maiden?" His thrust growing harsher at the mention of your intended. "Does he know I've ruined you? Gotten deep inside this tight cunt and imprinted my name on the mouth of your womb?" It is a wonder he speaks as if not strained from supporting your weight atop him and the excursion of fucking up into you.
There is no desire within you to answer. You wish to forget of the realities of the outside world and be here and now. Feeling his warm skin on yours creating fire that stokes you completely alight. This will be the last time you lay together the war of fire and blood rearing its rotten head. You realize that was the reason for this. Showing up and demanding an audience with you. Risking his life for one more night with his princess, his niece, his love.
You place one small palm on his mouth to stop more vulgarness from spewing out. "Just shut up and fuck me harder, unless the dragon would like to yield to the wolf?" Aemond lets out a growl and winds his arms around you, standing to his full height with you in his arms. He manages to stay inside you as he walks you to the near by table. When he sets you down he pushes down on your stomach to lay your back flat against it,
The way he was fucking you earlier has nothing on the way he pounded into you now, practically embedding your skin in the oak of the table. Aemond has one hand on your hip and the other comes up to wrap tightly around your throat cutting off your air immediately. Your hand grabs his wrist but you make no attempt to free yourself from his grasp. Despite the circumstances there is no fear in your body, instead you find hot arousal, one that makes your already wet cunt gush more liquid at the base of his cock.
"My, my, look at this, what a sight" You glance up at him, his eye trained directly on the place where his cock disappears within you.
His deft fingers circle up to your clit and that is your undoing, your legs shake from around his waist and your back arches up, head thrown back, a loud moan tearing through you.
Aemond lifts you up to him, from the gap you made when your back raised off the table. Your head falls on his shoulder, limp from being throughly sated. Gone are the precise thrusts, replaced by quick hard shoves inside you, desperate to reach his peak. Once more he tugs your head back and kisses you deeply passionately, It remind you of when you were children, ignored by your elders and seeking love in each other. Kisses hidden beneath the blanket of darkness.
Aemond's stills and groans quietly as his seed fills you to the very end of you and there is a small part of you that hopes it takes root, so that you may have a piece of him always, even when he is gone.
"I love you" You both whisper, low as if you will be strike down by all the gods if heard.
Mayhap's you have already been scorned by their fury.
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deunmiu-dessie · 5 months ago
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(unedited) widowedfather!simon gets help with his daughter. [ connected with this post as an au! ] [ one, two ]
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the incessant wailing of the baby seemed never-ending. her plump, delicate cheeks were tinged with a crimson hue, and torrents of tears streamed down her face. simon, standing amidst the formula cans, wondered briefly how such a tiny thing could produce such an ear-piercing noise, the sound grating at his ears, which only served to exacerbate his already troubled state of mind.
he was at a loss, unable to figure out what was causing her distress. simon had just fed her, burped her, and changed her diaper recently—yet she continued to cry inconsolably, legs kicking and arms tucked to her body. it’d been like that, him desperately trying to calm her down while receiving judgmental glares from onlookers (although he couldn't bring himself to care) for the past fifteen minutes.
she misses her mother.
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well, she's gone. he was all she had now, and he wasn't much– he knew that. he’d asked price’s wife for help several times after she was born, when he couldn't figure out why she was crying, what to do when she wouldn't go to sleep. simon eventually stopped asking for help a couple of months later, didn't want to inconvenience them any more than he already had. didn't matter if they swore that he wasn't. he was a father, he needed to act like one.
simon had never been annoyed or angry with his child. how could he ever find it in himself to be annoyed or angry with his own flesh and blood? especially when she bore such an uncanny resemblance to his late wife.
no, his anger was solely directed towards himself, anger for not being able to understand her needs quickly, anger for not knowing how to soothe her. doubt plagued his every thought, making him question his capability to raise her properly.
“hi, would you like some help with her?”
taken from his thoughts, simon turned slightly to where the voice spoke, a woman standing just a few feet from him. her grocery cart was filled with food and two children, twin boys, were hanging off the side he realized. they seemed to be no more than five years old, but they were calm; giggling amongst themselves and pointing to what cereals they would eat early tomorrow.
simon redirects his attention toward the woman, her smile is warm, sympathetic, and non-judgmental. she eyes the newborn with starry eyes and a slight pout on her lips. simon shakes his head softly. “s’alrigh, don’t want t’bother you.” he murmurs gently. regardless, even though he declines her help, his daughter continues to cry inconsolably, much like the day she was born.
she waves him off and grins— everything about her was so, motherly, so kind. “believe it or not, i miss the newborn phase. they're like little critters when they hit their tot years.” she whispers the last part to avoid her kids overhearing and sends him a wink. he chuckles, it's small, barely there but she hears it nonetheless and responds with a soft laugh of her own.
the woman takes a few steps forward and gently takes the baby from his grasp, despite his hesitation, before he can decline once more. and a weight is lifted from his shoulders, his body no longer tense from not understanding what was wrong. simon watches as she cradles the newborn, a bright smile adorning her face, before she looks up at him. “she’s just a little gassy, feeding her while she’s upright will help to stop this from happening.”
simon anxiously nods, his heart pounding as the woman gently applies pressure just below his daughter's tummy, causing the gas to escape gradually and the baby's cries to turn into soft whimpers instead. his heartbeat slows, and he readjusts his arms to take the child. the woman lovingly coos at the newborn one last time before placing her delicately into simon’s waiting embrace.
she waves him off once more when he goes to thank her, smiling. “we parents need to stick together,” she says, before she walks back towards her cart and affectionately runs her hands through her children’s hair. “so, where to next?” her laugh is soft and loving as the two excitedly shout, "candy!" she looks over her shoulder at him and rolls her eyes, mouthing: ‘critters’
and simon, since the death of his wife, finally feels something.
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yumeka-sxf · 9 months ago
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New chapter today, and even though most of it seemed to continue the silly tone from the previous one, the last few pages actually shocked me! 👀
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For the first time, ANYA CONFESSED TO SOMEONE THAT SHE CAN READ MINDS! Now this doesn't necessarily mean anything crazy will happen in the series from now on, since Damian doesn't believe her (at first). But proving that you can read minds is easy to do, so the question now becomes, will Anya keep trying to prove it to Damian until he believes her? Or will she regret it later and not try to prove it, and then the plot point isn't touched on again? Regardless, this chapter definitely makes it seem like Damian will be the first person to know about her mind-reading powers.
Then there's the question of why Anya chose to confess this to Damian? I think it's a combination of a few reasons, the main one being that Damian doesn't have any connection to her family, so little risk of him telling them and thus bringing about the fear of abandonment Anya has should they find out. This might also be why she chose to tell him over Becky, since Becky already has somewhat of a relationship with Loid and Yor. The other reason could be that, as time has gone on, she's learned to trust him, at least when it comes to something like this. As hostile as he is towards her, she knows that he's not a double-crosser or a blabbermouth, and deep down he wants to do what's right. And lastly, it was the heat of a moment - her knowledge about him seemed weird so he questioned it, and perhaps at that highlighted moment, when Damian was being genuinely nice to her (since she can read minds, she knows if he's being genuine or not), she wanted to try not lying for once, just to see what happens.
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Guess we'll have to wait until next time to see if anything ground-breaking comes from this...will Anya keep pursuing this, will she regret it and let Damian continue to not believe her, or will it just not be mentioned again until later? This reminded me a bit of the Mole Hunt arc where Yuri became suspicious of Loid, but the latter was able to throw him off the track. But the seed of suspicious was planted nonetheless. In this case, even if Damian continues to think Anya was lying, a seed of suspicion may have been planted in him too that could come into play much later on. We'll see!
But besides this big event, a few other notable things in this chapter was super rare soft Damian from the above page. This continues to prove what I've always thought - that Damian acts the way he does to appear "proper" in front of his peers, but when he's alone with Anya, his real feelings seep out. She's a rare person where he doesn't feel the need to put on airs around.
We also got more Henderson x Martha crumbs. Love to see it.
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Also loved to see Anya getting cocky and Loid freaking out about it 😅
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Overall, even though I'm not as into Damianya as I am Twiyor, I still enjoy seeing their progress, and this chapter was definitely one of the most Damianya-chapters of all~ Despite some of the "dance with Damian" challenges being a bit too silly for my taste (like, how did Emile and Ewen organize all that last minute?) the payoff at the end was worth it! Loid and Yor better get themselves together or their daughter will end up beating them in the romance department 😂
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honeypiehotchner · 8 months ago
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kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot
Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently
Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance
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It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.
“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”
“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”
You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.
“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”
“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”
“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”
You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”
“Great, see you in a few.”
“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.
You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.
Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.
With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 
Despite this, though, things have moved
slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 
It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.
Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.
He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.
Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.
Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.
The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.
You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.
He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.
“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 
He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”
You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 
“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.
You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”
He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”
“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”
You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.
“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”
He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 
You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.
When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.
“Well,” you laugh.
“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”
You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”
“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”
“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”
“That could be forever, for all you know.”
“That’s fine with me.”
You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”
“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”
He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 
“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”
“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 
“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”
“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”
“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”
He smirked. “I noticed.”
You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then
”
He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”
“And then come back here for a movie?”
“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 
The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 
“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”
“
kind of.”
“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”
“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”
Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.
The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.
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bluerosefox · 8 months ago
Text
Our Strengths
"What do we do now? Tucker asked. His voice cracking with stress and worry as he stared at the scene before him not able to look away as his best friend and his family were being dragged out of their home.
Danny cuffed in anti-ghost cuffs and knocked the heck out with a ecto-gun pointed at his skull by one of the GIW agents, they eventually tossed Danny into their van that was parked right outside the Fenton Works. Jazz was pleading, begging them to let her brother go, even though she too was cuffed and not caring that another gun was at her back. Maddie was hissing like angry feral mama cat at the two agents, ignoring the other two that were holding her shoulders to keep her from squirming around and saying "you dare touch a single hair on my babies I will rip-" before she too was lead away to the GIW van. The last to come out was Jack and he looked haunted and stressed, and despite being a huge guy he was trying to make himself look small. He too was sent into the van, and one of the last things Tucker could see before the doors close was Jack kneeling down next to Danny and going to cradle him but being stopped by the GIW agent in the van.
Sam chewed on her lip, her eyes wide and wild as she tried to think of... well anything to save her friend and his family from this.
To think Vlad would be so petty after Danny finally told his parents about being Phantom and them accepting and loving him regardless and even apologizing for trying to hurt him that he would go and tattle to the GIW about Phantom.
Danny hadn't even told them about Vlad being a halfa either. Not even a bit. All Danny told them was that Vlad made him super uncomfortable. About how the guy seemed obsessed with his mom but seemed to be shifting his obsession to him.
And for once Jack listened, especially after Maddie finally told him the times the man flirted with her and had even tried getting her to leave Jack. With only Danny. No mention of Jazz, only Danny.
After that Jack turned papa bear mode.
Say what you will about Jack Fenton but his love for his family outweighs any kind of friendship.
So yeah Vlad finding himself being 'cut out' of the Fenton's lives, realizing the only times he could even get close to Maddie and Danny was because Jack was always welcoming to him, and finding out Jack point blank said he no longer wanted him around his family, he raged and decided to get back at Danny was to go tell the GIW about him being Phantom.
No doubt the creep was going to show up later, 'save' them and start making demands or indebt them to him.
And now here they were. The Fenton's, after being told about Phantom, were being unjustified hauled away by the GIW while all of Amity watches from the streets and despite the protest from, mostly teens, Amity Parkers no one could do anything with both weapons pointed at them or the 'law' decree.
Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath. When she opened them back up she finally looked away as the van and the rest of the GIW began to leave, her hands clutched so tight that her knuckles were turning a deadly white. When she finally released her grip she felt something in her hand.
Confused, Sam opened her hand and gasped as she recognized a familiarish green sticky note and words written in purple ink. She's never read any of the sticky notes CW would send Danny but she has seen them appear out of no where.
She read the note, ignoring Tuckers questioning, and once done she snapped her head to look at him. It was so fast that Tucker jumped for a second. Her eyes were alight with a new found kindle of hope, determination, and a plan.
"Sam? What is it?" Tucker finally asked once more, he had a feeling whatever she had in mind was going to be insane but if it sent by CW and meant to save his best friend he'd do it.
"We play into our strengths and get some help." She said as she brought the sticky note up for him to see.
"Help? From who?" Tucker asked as he took the note and instantly noticed the drawn symbols on the bottom. When he snapped his head back up to look at Sam his mouth fell open and he said in shock, awe, and disbelief "No. No way. Them? But I thought-"
"Gonna stop you right there Tucker. Remember what Dani told us last month? About that new under the radar teen hero group?" Sam cut in.
"OOoooh. Them.... Yeah I can totally get behind asking them over asking the adults." Tucker responded, his mind coming up with a plan as the sticky note words played into his head 'Use your strengths'
"Good we have no time to loose. I'll contact Dani to find out where we can find their base, you get ready to hack and find what you can so I can use it to help... persuade them into helping us."
-x-x-
Young Justice was having a normal, well as normal as a bunch of super-powered and very well trained teens could have day.
Or at least it was until their comms and entire system were hacked by an unknown hacker, a goth girl appearing on their main sceen and her saying this
"Hey, Young Justice right? Look I'll be blunt about this. We need help, our best friend and his family got taken by some shady government jerks that wanna experiment on him and we need to save them. It's a long story. However, we do not like the JL too much and don't trust them, we have our reasons, so to make sure you don't go crying to them, we're taking your systems hostage and blackmailing you with things our hacker found out." Her eyes narrowed at them, her face in a scowl and it left no room for negotiations at all, she was determined to get things her way "So that's the deal. Help us save our best friend and his family while not letting the JL know, and we let go of your systems and forget about what we found out."
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selene-writes · 3 months ago
Text
You-Me-Us
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AHHHH Hey guys! There's lots of Logan craze on here thought I would try writing. Should this be a series? Its short and there's lot of places to go from here.
You had known Logan for fifteen years—technically, that had been your entire life, or at least as much of it as you could remember. Your earliest memory was of his face peering down at you with a mixture of concern and relief. You were in some sort of ruined laboratory, your body aching with a pain you couldn’t fully comprehend. You didn’t even know your own name at the time. Instead, you went by Artemis, a name you had chosen for yourself, though Logan often called you "bub."
Like Logan, you were a mutant, endowed with the gift of regeneration. This ability made it impossible to determine your exact age. In addition to your regenerative powers, you possessed the unique ability to manipulate atoms. This rare skill granted you control over all elements, a power that made you incredibly unique and powerful.
You had both decided to stick together, united in your quest to uncover the truth about who you were and why you had ended up there. It was evident that something significant had happened to both of you, something that had rendered you both invincible. Despite the mysteries that surrounded your origins, the bond between you and Logan only grew throughout time.
As time passed, the nature of your relationship evolved in ways neither of you had anticipated. Somehow, amidst the chaos and the search for answers, you had found yourselves tumbling into bed with each other. While the physical connection had become a part of your lives, nothing had fundamentally changed, and you never talked about it.
Even as you navigated your complicated relationship, your focus remained on the shared mission: to piece together the truth about your past and understand the full extent of your powers. 
Everything happened so quickly. You and Logan were in the middle of your usual routine—hitting various bars and grifting people for money. It was a familiar pattern, one that had become almost comforting in its predictability. But that night, things took an unexpected turn.
A teenager—no older than seventeen—had sneaked into the back of your car. Her name was Rogue, and despite your initial reluctance, you and Logan ended up arguing about what to do with her. Logan, ever the soft-hearted one despite his gruff exterior, eventually agreed to give her a ride, though it was clear he would have done so regardless of your persuasion.
The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Out of nowhere—a caveman-like brute—attacked you. Logan was momentarily knocked out in the chaos, leaving you and Rogue vulnerable. The man’s strength was overwhelming, and before you could react, he hurled you against a tree. The impact was brutal, and you felt a jarring “crack” as your head struck the trunk.
You crumpled to the ground, falling into the snow. As the world around you dimmed, the last thing you saw was the silhouettes of the figures moving closer, their shapes growing more defined against the stark whiteness of the snow.
You woke with a groan, sitting up abruptly as if propelled by instinct. Your body felt as good as new, fully healed from the earlier impact. Instinctively, you scanned your surroundings, your mind racing with concern for Logan and his whereabouts.
As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a bald man sitting in a wheelchair across the room. Despite his lack of visible movement, his voice seemed to come from all around you, resonating in your mind as much as your ears.
“There is no need to panic,” he said, his lips remaining still, not in sync with his words.
You tensed, on high alert. “How are you doing that?” you demanded, your voice edged with suspicion.
The bald man responded aloud this time, “How do we do anything? We’re mutants.”
Your frustration boiled over. “Where am I? Where is Logan?”
The man’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “He is safe
 you both are.” He began to wheel closer; his movements deliberate and smooth. “As for where you are
 You are at my academy, where we help those like you. You are with
 the X-Men.”
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xxblairexxss · 1 year ago
Text
She’s in a good hand
Pairing : Charles Leclerc x exgirlfriend!reader
Theme : Light angst, fluff
It felt so lonely when your dad suddenly left you alone in this world. It felt like you lost the light at the end of the tunnel, it was until your ex boyfriend, Charles came back to your life to keep his promise.
Not proofread!
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"Charles, how long?" Riccardo called out the driver, who seemed to be very quite from the beginning.
He swallowed the tender meat from his dish, wiping his mouth with the tissue he had in hand. Charles hadn’t been participating in the group chat that much because this was his first meal of the day and he was starving. He skipped dinner last night because he hardly had any energy to cook anything. "How long, what?"
"Your break." Martha filled in on behalf of his boyfriend.
"Ah, just two weeks.” And just like that, the conversation ended, and he continued back to his meal while eavesdropping on the talk amongst his group of friends until one of the topics perked up his ears.
"Did you give Y/N a call?"
"Yeah."
"Is she doing alright?"
"No, of course not. She tried to sound bubbly just so I wouldn’t worry too much, but I know she still cries herself to sleep."
"He was all she had. I wasn’t even expecting her to be fine right away."
"Yeah, and she was really close with him too."
He wanted to say something but his body seemed to be making its own decision before he could make up his mind. Few of his friends looked his way as he cleared his throat, knowing very well he had something to say.
"What happened to Y/N?” He questioned, eyes went on the couple. Charles saw the way Martha gave a little glance to her boyfriend and pressed her lips into a thin line.
Back when he broke up with you, they realised that Charles wasn’t really comfortable when they mentioned your name, despite the fact that the breakup was on a good term. It had been a year since then, and he eventually accepted that regardless of whatever happened between you and him, you were still part of the group friends, and there would be times when they would mention and talk about you, especially Martha. She was one of your closest friends.
He hadn’t seen you since then. You had asked him to stop contacting you or you would never be able to move on with your life, so he did what you asked. It was hard at first because you were a huge part of his life and to wake up one day, having to carry on with his life without texting you, listening to your voice, hearing you blabbered about your favourite movies without an early notice was unbearable. Up until now, he wasn’t really sure if he had indeed forgotten you or he had his career that acted as his distraction. Either way, you had always been in the back of his mind.
"Mr. Y/L/N passed away last week.”
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flash
“I told her I couldn’t go on a date with him because I love you! “
Alcohol had always been a social lubricant to you. It always made you talk a lot more. Sometimes it made you talk too much that the aftermath made you unable to talk to anyone for a week because you were so embarrassed. Charles had been holding his laughter. He wished he had recorded everything you had been saying ever since he drove away from the club and let you listen to it when you were sober. But a small part of him was glad enough that out of all embarrassing things you could have talked, you had been telling him you love him over and over. He had been planning to confess to you for weeks now, but he wasn’t really sure if you liked him the same—more than a friend—but now that you had been prattling your love for him time and again, it wasn’t that vogue anymore. "Yeah? How much do you love me?"
"A lot! Like,” You brought up your arms and moved them in a circular motion. “this much! But I don’t know if you love me back, so I just keep it a secret." You tried to cover your flushed face with your hands and chuckled.
"I love you too.” He whispered.
"What did you say? Charles, I can’t hear you!” You leaned against his arm and hiccuped. "I wish you loved me back."
"We are here, bambi." You managed to hop off the car on your own, insisting you could walk without his help while he went to pick up your handbag and heels in his car.
"Hi, dad!, I’m so sorry I’m late.” You crashed and slump your body against the older man as Charles followed behind.
"It’s okay, honey. As long as you are safe.” He pecked you on the side of your head as you walked in, bidding goodbye to your best friends.
"Bye, Charles!" You squealed and hopped your way to your room, leaving him to face your dad on his own.
"Leclerc."
"Sir, I—um.”
"No hands?" The adult queried.
"No." Charles shook his head right away, as if vocally denying it wasn’t enough to persuade your dad.
"No lips? Tongue?" 
"No, absolutely not. I’m completely sober, and I have two more friends, one girl and one guy, in the car. Here’s, um, her heels and handbag.” He confirmed before handing your older man the stuff you had left. "Have a good night, sir."
"Leclerc." 
"Yeah?" He stopped in his track back to his car and looked back.
"Thank you for taking care of her."
"Of course. I’ll always take care of her. I promise." He nodded out of curtesy and made his way back to the car, continuing his way to send his other friends home.
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This was the third time the ringing tone rang over and over again from the start. He had been in front of your house, ringing your bells, for the past 10 minutes. His leg veins were all sore from standing it was as if he had a leg day.
“Are you sure she’s home? My legs are burning, bro. She’s not picking up the call either." Charles groaned and heaved a sigh. It felt as if he was going against the rule. He had asked his friends if it was okay for him to pay you a visit because the last time he tried to see you, you flipped off but that was a week after the breakup. It was solely for a different reason now. The friends were very supportive of the idea since everyone except him had sent their condolences in person.
"She hasn’t left the house at all! Just come back tomorrow, then. Maybe—" 
He clicked on the end button right when the sound of the lock being turned came from the other side. "Y/N?"
"Oh, hi
" 
You looked different, a gloomy kind of difference. You no longer had the sparkle in your eyes. Your eyes were droopy and puffy, as if you hadn’t had enough sleep, and the dark circle under your eyes was so obvious that it looked like a silhouette against the rainy days in Monaco. "I heard what happened. I’m so sor—“
"Sorry? Yeah, I have been hearing the same things from every single person since last week. I’m sorry for myself too. You can go now."
"Wait! Y/N, wait." He slipped his foot in between the small gap and held the door from closing shut. "I see that you do not want to talk right now, and I understand and respect that. But if you want to talk sometime later, I’m always here, alright?"
"Thanks, Charles." 
He stepped back, and you closed the door, locking it back as he walked away. He didn’t need to come inside to know that the house was dingy, as if it were painted all over by a leader.
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He stretched his limbs, hands patting and slapping in every area against the duvet, trying to find his phone that was blasting the ringtone in full volume. "Hello
?" Charles leaned to his side and rested the phone on his ear so he wouldn’t have to hold it.
"Charles? Am I disturbing you?"
It was 3AM. Of course you weren’t disturbing him at all. "No? No, not at all. I wasn’t even sleeping.”He sat up straight away, yawning as he put the phone away for a second, in case you could hear it.
"What were you doing?"
"Sorry? Oh, I was working out.” He dipped his head, feeling the blood rush to his head from the abrupt movement earlier.
"At this hour?"
"Yeah. I have jet lag.” He had been here for days. If jet lag lasted this long, he would have been hospitalised. "Is there anything wrong, Y/N?"
"No
 I just—" There were 10 seconds of stillness before you continued. "Actually, I don’t know why I called you. You can go back working out. I’m so sorry—“
"Hey," He cut on.
"
yeah?"
"Would you like to listen to me talk for a while instead? I got a few funny stories you might want to hear." Charles felt like his prayer was answered when you reached out to him. It wasn’t much, but at least the first thing that came to your mind in the middle of the night was to search for his name in your contact out of all people. To him, that was really meaningful. "I’m really good at telling jokes."
You didn’t reply.
"You don’t have to say anything. Just be present with me; is that okay?” Then he heard your soft voice on the other side.
"Okay.."
So he went on and talked for a while, though his brain cells had to open a few old books in his memory to recall some interesting stories, but anything to keep you company so you wouldn’t feel alone.
“Y/N, are you still here with me?" He thought you were asleep because he nearly did, though his mouth was conveying every words his brain could make up.
"Yeah."
“Are you sleepy?” Charles asked. It would be crazy to ask the question at 4AM to anyone else.
“No, not yet.”
Though your reply was short and he barely got any reaction, at least you were listening to him so he stayed up that night, telling her about how Lando made fun of his way of driving.
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You called again a few days later. Truth be told, Charles hadn’t been sleeping that well ever since you started calling him in the middle of the night. He was so afraid he would accidentally miss your calls that he even set an alarm for every hour of the night.
"Hi. Am I disturbing you?”
He was leaning against his headboard. Your call didn’t come as a surprise this time, so he didn’t sound sleepy at all. "No, not at all, Y/N. Do you—"
"Can I—" You spoke along with him.
"Go on." 
"Can I talk about my dad?” Your voice trailed off. You had been wanting to talk about him. You wanted to talk about how perfect of a dad he was to you. To talk so proudly of him for hours. You refused to act as if he were gone. No, you couldn’t move on just yet. You wanted to tell everyone about everything he had ever taught you about life. You wanted to play pretend, talking about him as if he were still here.
But who would be willing to listen to a story about a random old man, someone who wasn’t important to them as much as he was to you? Someone who wasn’t a significant icon in the world. He was just your dad.
So you weren’t expecting him to say yes, and that was totally fine. “It’s okay if you don’t want to..”
"Sure! Tell me everything about him. All I know is that he was very scary, especially when he called my name."
You giggled. It felt forever since the last time you smiled; that it felt a little awkward. "He always said he did it on purpose because you would always freeze whenever he did that."
"For real? My legs went weak every time he went "Leclerc."" This had been the most words he had ever heard you say since he met you again.
"He would always peel the shrimp for me." You blurted, finding yourself smiling again. This was the first time you had ever spoken about him since he passed. Charles, on the other hand, tried to stifle his yawn by cupping his mouth. "Because of that, I would never order any dish that had shrimp or prawn if I wasn’t with him because I didn’t want to peel them on my own."
You heard him laugh on the other line. "Do you know how to peel your own shrimp?" He jested.
"I think so. It’s been a while since I peeled them myself. I should probably start learning how to do it myself.”
"Have you learned how to tie your shoelaces?” You heard him query, laughing right after. He remembered how you would always ask him to wait because Mr. Y/L/N hadn’t tied up your shoelaces yet. He had taught you the step by step, yet it felt like the most complicated thing ever so you never tried it again.
"Of course! I have always known how to tie them."
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"Coming!"
You ran to the door as soon as the bell went off while still struggling to clip your earrings on. You went with a printed shirt and bootcut pants in black, paired with your hair tied up in a ponytail. This was the first time in what felt like forever since you dressed up this well. Charles had asked you to join the rest of the group for a casual lunch, and you had been M.I.A. since the date so the only right thing to do was to say yes. "Is this okay?”
"It’s more than okay, Y/N. You look stunning. Ready?" His heart swelled with pride, seeing how much improvement you had made. Charles was told you hadn’t leave the house ever since what happened and he wasn’t hoping for you to agree with his offer. Not only you said yes, you were also looking forward to it.
"Ready." You exclaimed and halted your steps before bumping against his chest as he abruptly stopped.
"Wait." 
"Why?" Your head tilted along as he crouched down to pull your shoelaces loose. Your cheeks were flushed because you even went on internet and tried to make it perfect but judging on how quick he was to realise about it, you felt a bit like a fool. It was a bit of a waste of time as well. You should have just went with a heels or flats. “Oh, did I tie it wrong? It’s okay, Charles. I can do it on my own."
"It’s okay to ask for help, Y/N. There you go. You did it perfectly. I just made it tighter.” He patted on your head soon as he was done with both sides.
He was lying. You knew it because your shoelaces looked neater now—way different from when you did it.
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"Y/N, we missed you!” Martha screamed and pulled you into a tight hug. It had been nearly a week since the last time you met up with her. It didn’t sound that long but it was long for you and Martha who could never went more than 2 days without seeing each other.
You were a little taken back from the way they were celebrating you that some of the other customers were looking at your way. Charles saw the way your cheeks went pink as you looked to your side that he had to step in.
"Okay, that’s enough. Don’t humiliate us in public.”Charles pulled your seat on his side while the rest of the group settled down. The waiter handed him the menu and he passed you on to to as they carried on with conversation and meals while both you flipped on the pages.
"I think
I’ll just take polpette al sugo.”
"They have prawn linguine. I thought that was your favourite?" He called out the waiter and looked back at you for confirmation, seeing the way you weren’t quite sure with your decision but you chose to stick with it.
"No, I don’t feel like eating that one."
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"Why did you order that?"
"Oh, this?" He took a spoonful of the linguini and shrugged. "I don’t know. Guess I wanted to try it out?"
When the foods arrived, you saw the waiter handed your favourite food, the prawn linguini to Charles when he had never ordered anything that had seafood in it. "But you don’t like seafood?"
"Doesn’t mean I’m not up to try a new dish.” He calmly replied, and before you could argue again, Riccardo called his name to ask about his new car.
You always made the wrong decision in life. Let it be from choosing your part time job, to choosing your prom dress, to choosing your major in university. Today wasn’t an exception too. The dish that you ordered wasn’t good enough. It was okay, but it didn’t give you the contentment as much as you thought it would. So you had been eyeing non other than the linguini in front of Charles.
You thought you were being subtle until he switched his dish with yours; with all of the prawns peeled. It was done instantaneous while you were rolling the meatball around so the the fork in your hand were dropped in surprise. “Take mine.” He said, before looking back at the guy on the other side of the table and took a bite of the meatball in front of him. You picked up the fork which he had twirled with the pasta and stuffed it in your mouth. Your hand immediately went to your filled mouth and stifled a giggle.
"Is it good?” He leaned his head against his hand, grinning from ear to ear while he stares at you as you take another spoonful of it.
"It’s really good! Can I take this one?" You poked one of the fresh, plump prawn he had peeled and pointed it on his face.
"Take it, precious. I don’t like seafood."
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Charles came by early in the morning with a bag full of different ingredients that it felt like you were prepping for a housewarming party. Today was your dad’s birthday, and you were supposed to be having a father and daughter date like always, but this was the first birthday without him, so you didn’t know what to do—whether you should celebrate it or if it turned into a normal day in your calendar now that he was gone.
"What are we doing with these? Are you trying to cook something?” You asked, taking out milk, herbs, butter, and all sorts of stuff from the paper bag.
"We are making chicken pesto lasagna.” He bent over the kitchen counter and took out his phone. You saw, he went on his notes and scrolled through the words that he had written in it.
"Why?"
"Because it’s something you used to do with your dad?” He went around the kitchen, looking for something in circle, until you handed him the chopping board. "Let’s make it a tradition for his birthday."
"But I don’t really know how to make it. He was the one who did all the cooking.” You took out red onions and garlic for him to start chopping.
"It’s fine. I studied the recipe last night, and it shouldn’t be that hard. Look." Charles scrolled down his notes, and you saw what was written in bold and labelled as ‘tips’. "I even got some extra tips from people on the internet."
"How did you know we used to make this on his birthday?"
"You mentioned it once. A few years ago. If I’m not mistaken, it was his favourite, yeah? And that was why he liked making it on his birthday because it felt extra special when he made it with you?” He lifted his arms high when you threw yourself against him. "Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry—"
"Thank you. I really appreciate everything you did to me, Charles."
He rested his chin on the crown of your head while his hands were holding a knife on one and an onion on the other. "Anything for you, precious. Anyway, I don’t feel comfortable having you judge my back while I cook; do you mind leaving the kitchen to me?"
"No. Let’s do this together. Can I see your notes?” He went back to chop and dice as he pushed the phone to your side. It felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have when you accidentally flicked your finger up on the screen, revealing your picture as his wallpaper on his home screen so you immediately clicked back on the notes before he was it. There were two files in the notes. You clicked on the one that was labelled as ‘Bambi’, where you saw he had written down everything you have ever said to him, your favourite colour, favourite food, your first pet, and down below on the page which looked like it added recently was what your dad used to do for you, what you had told him in a phone call few days ago.
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After the whole war in the kitchen, the lasagna turned out to be really good. You wouldn’t have thought the end product would taste that delectable because he didn’t seem to be very sure of every step he did, though it was all based on the recipe itself. It was a while after the lunch was then you asked him to accompany you to see your dad before the day ended because you wanted to wish him a happy birthday in ‘person’ and here you were, standing in front of your dad’s tombstone with Charles.
"Hi, dad. I know you don’t like me going out when it rains, but I promise I won’t be that long.” You crouched down and brush the dead leaves on the stone before placing a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Happy birthday!" You tried to sound joyful because you promised you wouldn’t cry. Not when you have someone else with you this time but you choked back on your tears as soon as you felt Charles’s hand on your shoulders, giving it a squeeze every so often. "I made your favourite food with Charles, and I think he could snatch your best chef title soon."
“Don’t say that. He’s not gonna let me take you out on a date again.” You laughed at his pleasantry and rested your head against his chest. "Sir, I know I broke your trust when we broke up but she was the one who forced me to break up with her.” You giggled and pinched on his waist as he winced. “But you don’t have to worry about Y/N. She’s in good hands. I’ll always take care of her like I have promised you."
“We’ll come back again soon, right?” You looked up with a smile. The tears that was burning your waterline was gone now. It felt like his hug completely consume your being and it was the second most comforting feeling in the world, second to your dad’s hug.
He rubbed on your back with his thumb, pulling you closer as he closed his eyes. Hugging you felt like heaven in his arms. “I’ll bring Y/N here whenever she wants to see you. You got my promise again, sir.”
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edenesth · 4 months ago
Text
TWTHH Spinoff: Try Again [2]
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Pairing: assistant!Jongho x new maid!reader
AU: historical au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 7.6k
Summary: Among the many staff members at General Park's estate, Jongho stood out for his dedication, leaving no room for personal indulgence. Convinced that love and marriage would detract from his commitment to serving the general, he had resigned himself to a life of solitude. But his conviction was challenged with the arrival of an annoyingly perfect Miss Kwon, a new maid whose kindness and efficiency began to make him rethink his life choices.
Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist
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"Ugh, he's such an idiot," Seonghwa mumbled, rubbing a frustrated hand against his temple as he entered the House of Lotus that night. His wife smirked from her position on the bed. "Yeah, reminds me of you. Men become utter fools when they develop feelings for someone."
He pouted, shedding the outer layer of his hanbok before carefully joining her on the bed, mindful of her round belly. "Am not," he argued, but she raised a challenging brow. "Are too." He huffed but pulled her close regardless. "Am not."
She glared up at him. "Are too, General Park. You're being one right now." He couldn't resist the grin creeping onto his face at how adorable she was, despite being about to become a mother. "Yes, my love. You're always right. I'm just messing with you, you know that." She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "That's more like it," she said, melting into her husband's warm embrace.
"Let him be, Hwa. I know you're frustrated, but he's at a stage where nothing you say will get through. He'll learn on his own eventually." He nodded in defeat, sighing when she pressed her lips against his jaw.
"Now, let us sleep."
"Yes, ma'am."
On the other side of the estate, you lay awake in bed, the events of the afternoon replaying in your mind like a broken record. You tried to reevaluate your priorities here, but one memory stood out starkly.
"Don't think, Miss Kwon. Just do your job and leave me alone. And it's Assistant Choi to you."
Those words pierced your heart more deeply than he would ever know. After all those moments and progress, were you a fool to believe you were finally on good terms? Was it naive to assume you were now
 friends? A small, hopeful part of you even dared to wish for something more.
But now, you understand.
You had grown up a people pleaser all your life. And if leaving Jongho alone was what he truly wanted, you would grant him your absence. The last thing you ever wanted was to be a bother or annoyance to anyone. You had tried your best, but even a saint has their limits, and you had reached yours.
Feeling a profound sense of betrayal, you replayed his harsh words over and over in your mind. Each repetition cut deeper, shattering the fragile hope you had nurtured. You had seen glimpses of a softer side in the assistant, moments where his stern exterior seemed to crack. Those moments had given you hope—hope that there was more to your relationship than a mere formality. But now, it was clear that those glimpses were just that—brief and fleeting.
You had spent your life striving to make others happy, always going the extra mile to please those around you, to earn their approval and affection. It was in your nature to help, to support, to be there for others. But now, faced with his cold rejection, you were once again reminded that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it will never be enough. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and the sting of rejection was almost unbearable.
It was just like with my parents

Determined to respect his wishes, you resolved to distance yourself from him. It wasn't easy. Every interaction, every shared moment, had left an indelible mark on your heart. But you had to protect yourself, to preserve whatever dignity you had left. You would focus on your duties, keeping your head down and your heart guarded.
As you moved through your days, you couldn't help but feel a profound sadness. You missed the camaraderie you thought you had built, the unspoken connection you felt. Yet, you reminded yourself that you deserved to be around people who appreciated you and valued your presence. If Jongho wanted distance, you would give it to him, even if it broke your heart in the process.
The assistant had initially been grateful that you had listened and left him alone. He remembered tensing up the first time he saw you after he had told you off so rudely the other day. He breathed a sigh of relief when you only nodded politely in acknowledgement before walking the other way. But as days passed, it became hard not to notice how you were beginning to avoid him like he had first done to you. Whenever he tried to speak to you regarding work, you would dismiss him and redirect him to someone else.
Today was another one of those days.
He straightened up, noticing you heading his way. He cleared his throat, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as he stepped in front of you, intentionally blocking your path.
"Miss Kwon, I'd hate to trouble you, but I'm going to need you to—"
You sighed, bowing. "Apologies, Assistant Choi, but I have more than enough on my plate as it is. If this does not concern maternity or relate to the mistress in any way, please seek assistance from someone else." Without waiting for his response, you walked away.
He blinked in surprise as he watched you go. The indifference in your voice and the quick dismissal stung more than he cared to admit. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and eagerness you had once shown him. His initial relief turned into an uncomfortable realisation that your absence, your avoidance, was affecting him more than he had anticipated.
Whatever, it's better this way.
Jongho tried to convince himself, but it was no use. This treatment affected him more than he liked to admit, yet his stubbornness prevented him from addressing it. Out of spite, he became even meaner to you, thinking that maintaining a cold front would help him regain control.
One day, as he passed by the House of Lotus, he saw you tidying up Lady Park's pavilion, now cluttered with various items. When you felt his gaze, you turned and found him staring. Flustered, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd be careful not to break anything if I were you. Every single item here is worth more than you ever will be." He cursed himself internally after uttering those words, wondering why he had to be so cruel. His fists clenched in regret when you let out a shaky breath and nodded obediently.
"I am aware, Assistant Choi. Please do not worry; I will treat them with the utmost care."
Why didn't you fight back? he wondered. The way you did when he had questioned you and your skills before? He hated that you were giving him minimal reactions, as if speaking to him would kill you. The realisation hit him hard—he was the hypocrite, condemning your distance when he had been the one to push you away.
Jongho's frustration mounted as he realised that your avoidance was cutting deeper than he had anticipated. Despite his best efforts to distance himself from you, each time you turned away, it stirred a pang of regret within him. At the thought, he found himself arranging the books in the general's study with more force than usual.
"Woah, any harder and you'll have to replace them all with new ones. I'm not sure your salary can cover that expense, Jongho. What's gotten your panties in a knot?" Seonghwa's sudden appearance beside him startled the assistant into a cough and a bow.
In truth, the younger man struggled to pinpoint the source of his frustration—whether it was directed at himself, you, or both. He knew he had no right to be angry with you; after all, you had only done exactly what he asked. It was a constant war between his mind and heart, and he was sick of it.
"Nothing, sir. Just a bit... overwhelmed with work," he lied, avoiding the general's knowing gaze.
Seonghwa sighed, crossing his arms. "You know, you're a terrible liar. This wouldn't have anything to do with Miss Kwon, would it?"
Jongho's silence spoke volumes. He continued to arrange the books, each movement more agitated than the last. "It's just... she's avoiding me," he finally admitted, his voice laced with frustration.
"Isn't that what you wanted?" Seonghwa asked, raising an eyebrow.
The younger man clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I thought it was. But now... I don't know."
"Maybe you should figure out what you really want before you destroy everything around you," General Park advised, his tone gentle but firm. "Including your own peace of mind."
He nodded slowly, the weight of his employer's words sinking in. He realised he needed to stop this war within himself. The constant push and pull were tearing him apart, and he couldn't bear it any longer.
That night, the general returned to his wife's side with a triumphant grin. "Things between those two will be fine now. Just you wait, my love." Lady Park shook her head. "Are you sure? I wouldn't be so optimistic if I were you."
And once again, her intuition proved correct.
Despite Jongho's desire to mend the rift between you, his pride and reluctance eventually held him back. Much to Seonghwa's disappointment, nothing changed. The silent war between Assistant Choi and the new maid persisted, casting a palpable tension over the household, noticed by nearly everyone.
Eunsook sighed heavily as she noticed the usually alert assistant zoning out for what felt like the thousandth time during their weekly inventory check. "What's bothering you, Jongho-yah? You know you can talk to me, right?" the elderly woman asked gently.
The general's aide finally snapped out of his trance, his eyes drifting away from the window where you had been standing moments ago, discussing herbs for the mistress' tonic with another maid.
"I
" He hesitated, tempted to confide in her. Eunsook had been like a mother to him throughout his employment here. But he shook his head, recognising how unprofessional discussing personal matters during work hours would be. More importantly, his pride stood in the way. Admitting his feelings would make them real and expose his vulnerability. He was Choi Jongho, after all. The last thing he needed was to be seen as a lovesick fool.
With a firm shake of his head, he forced a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Eunsook. Maybe just a bit tired, nothing a good night's sleep can't fix. I'll rest earlier tonight, don't worry."
She shook her head in disbelief as she watched the stubborn young man return to work, his usual mask of nonchalance firmly back in place. She could see the turmoil beneath his facade, but he was determined to keep it hidden, even from himself.
These kids are hopeless, I swear...
"Good job, everyone. Go and get some rest for the night." The assistant nodded approvingly at the completed tasks for the day and dismissed the group of estate staff assigned under him.
He watched as the servants dispersed, heading towards their respective quarters. Giving the tidy inventory one last look, he dusted off his hands in satisfaction and began walking towards his own room, ready to retire for the night. All he could think about was the comfort of his mattress. He couldn’t wait to lie down and forget about everything, especially you. Thoughts of you had been making him restless, and he truly loathed it. He chastised himself for being caught by Eunsook earlier. This was bad, and he couldn't keep letting you affect him this way.
As if the world were adamant about ruining his plans, your familiar petite frame appeared in his vision. You were hunched over a basin, scrubbing one of the mistress' hanboks clean. What in the world were you doing out here in the cold of the night? Everyone else was either heading to bed or already asleep. And here you were, performing a chore that could very well make you sick in this weather.
He took a hesitant step towards you, wanting to lecture you, but then stepped back, remembering how awkward things were between you now. Yet, he didn't have the heart to walk away. With a huff, he pushed himself to approach you.
"Miss Kwon, shouldn't this be a task done during the day? Just because you're out here late doesn't mean you're hardworking. If anything, it shows you can't finish your tasks on time during work hours." He mentally cursed himself for always letting such harsh words slip, as if showing that he cared was such a horrendous thing.
You halted your actions momentarily at the sound of his voice before continuing. "Good evening, Assistant Choi," you said, turning slightly to eye him from the corner of your eye, not granting him the pleasure of your full attention. "I understand what you mean, but I hope you also understand that a heavily pregnant woman like the mistress might not always have full control of her bladder like the rest of us and that unplanned mishaps can happen. Do you suppose I should leave the lady in her wet garments? Is it wrong that I am getting things done on my own time? Please do not let me stop you from getting your rest. I am fully capable of managing my own time. Thank you very much. Now, if you'll excuse me," you answered firmly, not paying him any more mind.
Jongho stood there, feeling a mix of frustration and regret. He hated the way he spoke to you, but he couldn't seem to help it. Watching you continue your task, he realised that your dedication and resilience only made him admire you more, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. "Fine."
If he thought that would be the last time he found you out late, he was sorely mistaken. Over the next few days, he noticed a troubling pattern: you were working harder than ever, often staying up late to complete various chores long after the mistress had gone to bed. As if that wasn't concerning enough, you were already up and working by the time he started his day, which was unusually early. He began to wonder if you were getting any rest at all.
Despite his stubbornness, the assistant couldn't help but worry about your well-being. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way you sometimes swayed on your feet from exhaustion and the quiet determination in your every movement. It bothered him more than he would like to admit, but he refused to acknowledge that he cared. The thought of you overworking yourself began to weigh heavily on his mind.
One evening, he stood by the window of the general's study, watching as you meticulously swept the courtyard. The sun had long set, and the estate was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to go out there and tell you to stop. But his pride kept him rooted in place.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why does she have to be so damn stubborn?" he muttered to himself.
Just then, the head maid entered the room with a tray of tea. She set it down on the desk and looked at him with a knowing expression. "Still worrying about her?"
Jongho stiffened, then tried to play it off with a nonchalant shrug. "I'm not worrying, Eunsook. It's just
 She's working too hard. It's not good for her."
The elderly woman raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his act. "You know, Jongho-yah, it's okay to care about someone. Even if it's hard to admit."
He scoffed, turning away from the window. "I'm not admitting anything. She's just
 being reckless."
Eunsook shook her head with a soft chuckle. "You can keep telling yourself that, but everyone can see it. Just don't wait too long to do something about it."
As she left the room, Jongho's gaze drifted back to you. He knew she was right, but his pride and fear of vulnerability kept him silent. Yet, with each passing day, the thought of you overworking yourself increasingly bothered him, threatening to break through the walls he had built around his heart.
About to retire for the night, the assistant once again spotted you still busy at work. Tonight, you were by the furnace outside the House of Lotus, burning coals in an attempt to keep the mistress warm during the relentless cold weather. What an idiot, he thought to himself as he carefully approached you, not wanting to alert you to his presence. Here you were, busy keeping the lady warm while putting yourself in the cold. You were going to fall sick at this rate. He was amazed that you weren't already ill with the constant work and little rest you'd been getting lately.
He let out a small sigh of relief when he was close enough to see your head propped up on your fist, your elbow resting on your knee, your eyes closed. "You stubborn girl," he whispered to himself, feeling his heart ache as he observed the callouses on your free hand and the bags under your eyes. Your lips were dry and chapped, nearly turning blue from sitting out in the cold for god knows how long. He had to fight the urge to pull you close and carry you back to your quarters.
Instead, he sighed and crouched down beside you, lifting a hesitant hand to your face and gently moving a stray strand of hair. Noticing the slight shiver that ran through you, he quickly pulled off the outer layer of his hanbok and draped it around your shaking form. He froze when you seemed to wake up from the sudden warmth enveloping you.
"Hm— what? J-Jongho?" you muttered groggily before realising who was in front of you. Clearing your throat, you shot up from your seat and bowed. "Assistant Choi, wh-what were you
" you trailed off, noticing his outer layer on your shoulders.
Ignoring his disappointment when you corrected yourself and addressed him by his title instead of his name, he avoided your gaze, standing up as well. "Don't overthink it. I may be strict, but I'm not heartless. After all, who would care for the mistress if you fell sick? If you were responsible, you'd take good care of yourself too." He spoke in his usual icy tone, the mask of nonchalance returning as he turned to leave.
"Wait, your—" you started, looking down at the piece of clothing around your frame, but he cut you off.
"Keep it," he said firmly.
As he walked back to his room, he whispered to the wind, hoping it would somehow reach you, "You need it more than I do."
You stared after his retreating figure in confusion. He was so infuriating. If he wanted to be mean, why couldn't he be mean until the end? Why was he always making things more complicated than they should be? He constantly said one thing and did another. Why was he playing with your feelings like this?
You had been trying so hard to push all thoughts of him out of your mind, focusing on nothing but work, keeping yourself busy, and putting him at a distance just as he had wanted. You wanted to show him that you could be just as good at your job as he was—just as hardworking, dedicated, and capable—to prove him wrong about whatever prejudices he might have against you.
And just when you thought you could finally learn to hate him, he would go and do things like this, undoing all your efforts. You sighed, clutching the fabric around you, pulling it close as tears of frustration welled in your eyes. His scent was somehow
 comforting.
"Stop doing this to me, Choi Jongho," you whispered to the night, feeling your resolve crumble once again.
The next day, the assistant resumed his work as usual, though his heart raced at the thought of running into you. Would you still be wearing the piece of clothing he had given you? Or had you already cleaned it and left it on his doorstep? The latter seemed more likely. He couldn't understand his internal dilemma: on the one hand, it felt oddly satisfying to imagine you walking around with his robe draped over you, as if you were his. On the other hand, he wanted to smack himself sober for having these mind-boggling thoughts. He was stuck between wanting to see you in it and knowing the impropriety of it all.
In his constant efforts to both avoid and keep an eye out for you, half the day had gone by, and he began to realise that you had been nowhere in sight the entire time. He told himself not to overthink it, but his mind raced with possibilities of where you could be, trying to regulate the escalating unease he felt.
While he could have simply asked around, he refused to inquire about your whereabouts, prioritising his pride over his concern. Yet, secretly, he was going insane with worry.
As he moved through his tasks, his frustration grew. Every room he entered, every corridor he walked down, he found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of you. The absence of your presence gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.
By the time the sun began to set, his anxiety had reached its peak. The thought of something happening to you while he stubbornly refused to show concern made him feel a pang of guilt. He clenched his fists, battling the urge to ask someone where you were.
Instead of carrying out his tasks, Jongho ended up spending nearly the entire day searching the estate for you. Every corner, every room, every possible hiding place—he checked them all, growing more distressed with each passing moment.
Where could she have possibly gone?
After what felt like an eternity, he finally found you alone in the Cold Palace. Your figure was hunched, and his heart clenched when he realised you were crying on one of the steps leading up to the vacant chambers. His heart picked up its speed again when he spotted his robe neatly folded beside you. So, you kept it. It was apparent you had come here for privacy, given that this place had been as good as abandoned ever since the mistress moved out.
A part of him told himself he was intruding on a personal moment and that he should leave you be now that he knew you were safe. But the bigger part of him couldn't take it anymore. He wanted— no, needed to know you were okay.
Annoyed yet concerned, Jongho moved to sit down beside you, his presence startling you slightly. "What's making you cry?" he asked, his tone a mix of irritation and genuine concern.
"Assistant Choi?" Blinking rapidly, you shook your head. "I-I'm fine..."
His stern gaze silenced you. "Just be honest with me
 please."
You wiped your tears, taking a deep breath before responding. "Fine, if you insist. I'm just
 I'm tired of constantly feeling as though I will never be enough for anyone and everyone. You think you're the only one who fought hard to get where you are?" you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've struggled, too. I've given everything to prove myself, to show that I'm just as capable, just as dedicated. You have no right to judge me or mistreat me."
The assistant's heart sank with each word. He had hoped, in some twisted way, that your tears were because of him, a testament to his impact on your life. But hearing your frustration, your own story of perseverance, shattered that notion.
When you finished, you stood up, ready to leave. But against his better judgement, he gently pulled you back, his mind racing for the right words. All his usual defences, his pride and stubbornness, seemed meaningless at this moment.
"I... I'm sorry," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible.
You looked at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic vulnerability. For a moment, the air between you was heavy with unspoken emotions. Jongho, struggling to find more words, simply held your gaze, hoping his apology was enough to convey his regret.
At those unexpected words, your tears flowed again as you allowed him to gently guide you back into the seat beside him. The chill of the air was gradually replaced by warmth as he once again draped his robe over your shoulders. He didn't say another word, but his actions spoke volumes, conveying his sincerity. This unexpected kindness only made you cry harder.
He moved closer until your shoulders touched, his presence a silent reassurance that you weren't alone. The two of you spent the rest of the evening sitting next to each other in silence. Though he could have left after offering his apology, he realised he didn't want to. There was an unspoken bond forming between you, a quiet understanding that both of you needed.
As the stars began to dot the sky, the silence between you became more comfortable, almost intimate. He felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. He glanced at you, noticing the way your breathing had evened out, your tears finally subsiding.
"I'm sorry," he repeated softly, feeling the need to say it again.
You nodded, leaning slightly into his warmth, feeling a strange sense of relief. "Thank you," you whispered, grateful for his sincerity.
The two of you remained there, side by side, the Cold Palace no longer feeling so cold with the shared warmth of understanding and newfound camaraderie. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your hearts flutter, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.
The next day, Jongho eagerly looked forward to seeing you again. However, as he made his rounds, his anticipation turned to confusion and panic when he couldn't find you anywhere again, not even the Cold Palace. None of the servants had any answers for him, claiming not to know where you had gone.
Desperate for answers, he sought out the general, the head maid, and the mistress. Each of them gave him the same response: "She left, Jongho. She's gone home."
She... left? But why?
Panic gripped him. Hadn't everything been resolved after the previous night? He couldn't understand what was happening. He clearly recalled escorting you back to your quarters after a pleasant stop by the kitchen, where you treated yourselves to some leftover dishes from dinner. There had been laughter, shared stories, and a genuine connection. You had shyly handed his robe back to him at the end of the night, but he had insisted you keep it. Things were going well, weren't they? So, what went wrong?
His mind raced with questions. For once, he wasn't worried about the consequences Seonghwa mentioned he would face if you quit. All he could think about was why you had left and where you had gone. Was last night a goodbye? Why exactly were you crying? There had to be more to it, right?
He needed answers.
Holy crap, he needed you.
As he stood in the empty courtyard, grappling with his mounting frustration and confusion, the general approached, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jongho...? You okay, buddy?"
The question snapped the assistant from his spiralling thoughts. He turned to face his employer, his face a mask of desperation and determination. The weight of the revelation that you had left, combined with the realisation of how deeply he had come to care for you, pushed him to the brink.
With a sudden surge of emotion, Jongho blurted out, "I need to know where she lives. I need her address—now!"
General Park's eyes widened in surprise. The head maid and the mistress exchanged concerned glances, their expressions reflecting the unexpected turn of events. His outburst revealed a side of him they had rarely seen—a side filled with raw vulnerability and an intensity that spoke of deep feelings.
"You... you were right, I can't be without her," he continued, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and resolve. "I didn't realise how much she meant to me until she was gone. I thought I could handle it, but I can't. I need to bring her back."
Took you long enough, you prideful idiot.
Seonghwa's hand remained on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. The assistant's declaration of his feelings, so raw and exposed, left him feeling both embarrassed and liberated. He knew now that his emotions were undeniable, and he was willing to face whatever consequences lay ahead to be with you again.
Eunsook stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "Jongho, are you sure about this? It's a long journey, and things might not be as simple as you think. Miss Kwon, she was uh... she seemed very troubled."
Jongho nodded, his eyes determined. "Then that's all the more reason for me to be there for her. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I can't let her think that I don't care. I need to see her, to explain
 to fix whatever I messed up."
The lady, witnessing his resolve, stepped in with a sympathetic smile. "Very well. We'll get you the address. But remember, you must be honest with her. Be clear about your feelings. No more saying things you don't mean."
He nodded firmly and took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling in. He felt a rush of relief and fear, knowing that he was about to embark on a journey to find you and make things right. He had come to understand that his feelings for you were more than just fleeting emotions—they were real, and they mattered deeply.
As the information was given to him, the assistant clutched the piece of paper tightly, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He turned to Seonghwa, Eunsook, and the mistress, offering them a sincere thank you.
"I'll make sure she knows how much she means to me," Jongho said with resolve. "Thank you for your understanding."
With that, he set off, ready to face the world and do whatever it took to bring you back. The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he was no longer just an assistant doing his job—he was a man determined to fight for the love he had finally come to recognise.
Your heart felt heavy as you stepped out of the carriage, staring up at the estate you once called home, though it had never truly felt like one. No matter how many people filled its halls, it always remained a cold place, devoid of the warmth you craved. And yet, here you were again, returning after years away. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before entering the Kwon household for the first time in forever.
As you walked through the entrance, the servants bowed in recognition of your presence. "Welcome back, young miss," they murmured. You nodded emotionlessly, your eyes fixed on the altar straight ahead, which held the painting of a person whose affection you had fought hard to earn but never received.
Your brothers turned as your presence was announced. The second eldest furrowed his brows, a sneer forming on his lips. "Well, well, look who finally decides to show up? And here I was thinking Miss Ungrateful would never step foot in this house again. I'm afraid it's a little late to return, little sister. Mother's already dea—"
The eldest grabbed his arm, stopping him from finishing the sentence. "That's enough. Don't start anything. Show some respect. Mother would not want this."
You stood there, feeling a mix of sorrow and resentment. The coldness of the house and the harshness of your brother's words only served to remind you of why you had left in the first place. Yet, as you looked at the painting of the late Lady Kwon, you couldn't help but feel a pang of grief. Despite everything, a part of you had always hoped for reconciliation, for a family that would accept and love you.
Swallowing your emotions, you stepped forward, trying to find your voice. "I came to pay my respects," you said softly, your tone measured and controlled. "Whatever differences we had, she was still my mother."
The second eldest scoffed but remained silent, his gaze shifting away from you. You took another step closer to the altar, feeling the weight of the past and the unresolved emotions pressing down on you. It was difficult to be here, but you knew you had to face it, if not for your own sake, then for the memory of the woman whose portrait now watched over you.
As you stood there, the silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words and buried feelings. Your heart ached, but you remained resolute, determined to find closure in this place that had once been so unforgiving.
You settled on your knees before the altar, the flickering candlelight casting gentle shadows across your face. After lighting your own incense stick, you carefully placed it in the holder before your mother's resting place. Lowering your head, you clasped your hands together, the scent of the burning incense mingling with the bittersweet memories that flooded your mind.
The past few days had been a tumultuous sea of emotions. Upon receiving word of your mother's passing, you had been overwhelmed, retreating to the solitude of the Cold Palace to grapple with your feelings. The cold and empty chambers mirrored your own inner turmoil as you wrestled with the decision of whether or not to return to the place that had caused you so much pain.
As you knelt there, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, thoughts of a certain general's assistant suddenly entered your mind. The memory of his comforting presence the night before, his robe draped around your shoulders, and the sincerity in his voice as he apologised, filled your heart with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the coldness of your surroundings.
I wish you were here, Choi Jongho...
His steady presence, his silent strength—it would have been a balm to your aching soul. You longed for his reassuring touch, his quiet support. The thought of him brought a small measure of comfort amidst the sorrow.
Blinking back tears, you whispered a silent prayer, seeking peace and closure. You hoped that, somehow, your mother could hear you and understand the complex emotions you harboured. Despite the years of distance and the unresolved pain, you wished for forgiveness and reconciliation, even if it was now too late.
You took a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze at the portrait before you. "Mother," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I hope you find peace. I hope you know that despite everything, I loved you. And I hope
 I hope you can forgive me."
The room was silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and the weight of unspoken words. You remained kneeling, feeling the presence of your elder brothers behind you, the tension still palpable. But in that moment, you felt a small sense of release, as if a part of the burden you had carried for so long had been lifted.
As you rose to your feet and turned, your breath hitched at the sight of your father standing there, your younger brothers by his side. His presence was imposing, yet there was something different in his eyes—a softness you hadn't seen before.
"You're really here
 I didn't believe them when they told me you came," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
You gulped and bowed deeply. "Yes, I've come, Father."
To your surprise, he broke into a smile, a genuine expression of warmth that took you aback. "Come, my dear, let us have some tea and catch up."
Your heart warmed at the semblance of pleasure on his face. Was he glad you returned? Could he have
 regretted not treating you better after you left? The questions swirled in your mind, but the hint of hope blossomed in your chest.
The eldest gave you an encouraging nod. You took a deep breath and followed your father to the living hall, your footsteps echoing softly in the spacious corridors of the house where you spent your childhood.
The living hall was just as you remembered—lavishly decorated yet exuding a cold elegance. But today, the atmosphere felt different, almost welcoming. The elderly man gestured for you to sit, and soon a servant brought in a tray with a steaming teapot and delicate porcelain cups.
As the tea was poured, your father looked at you with a mixture of pride and regret. "I've been thinking, and I believe it's time for you to move back home," he said, his voice steady but with an undertone that made your blood run cold. "You don't have to work so hard anymore. I heard you're out there working as some servant to General Park. You're a lady from House Kwon; you can do so much better. I have a list of marriage candidates that could guarantee you a lavish life, my daughter."
In that moment, the warmth you had felt earlier was sucked out of your being. You should have known better than to believe he genuinely wanted you back for the sake of family. You saw through his motives right away. He only saw a use for you now—to marry and establish another powerful connection for his family. That was all you were ever good for in his eyes.
Your heart sank, and the chill of disappointment wrapped around you. "I see," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The tea, which moments ago had brought comfort, now tasted like ash in your mouth. "So that's why you want me back."
He frowned, clearly not expecting your reaction. "You misunderstand, my daughter. I only want what's best for you."
You stood, feeling a surge of defiance. "No, you want what's best for you and this house. But I am not a tool for your ambitions."
"That's right because she is so much more than that." You gasped, whipping around to find Jongho standing there, a confident grin on his face. "And Lord Kwon, this young lady is far more than just a mere servant for General Park. In case your informant wasn't thorough enough, she is a renowned obstetrician recommended by noblewomen all around Joseon. She is now a valued and cherished member of the Park household. So, it would be great if you could show her the respect she deserves."
Your father narrowed his eyes at the uninvited guest, standing up. "And who the hell are you? Her little secret admirer?"
Before you could turn to defend the assistant, Jongho stepped forward, his voice steady and unyielding. "If you must know, I'm Choi Jongho, General Park's most trusted aide and only assistant. And yes, I am also Miss Kwon's secret admirer, but I don't need your permission to court her. I've come to ask for hers, not yours."
Your jaw dropped as you stared at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. Was this a confession?
With a final, stern glare, he took a step forward, placing his arm protectively around you, just as he had when you went to the market. "Now, if we're done here, Lord Kwon, I will be escorting the lady back to where she truly belongs, far away from here."
You let him lead you away, the shock slowly giving way to a warm, comforting certainty. For the first time in a long while, you felt valued, seen, and cared for. As you walked away from the place that never truly felt like home, you glanced up at Jongho, grateful for his unexpected presence and the boldness of his words.
"So, you're my secret admirer, huh?" you teased, biting your lip as you watched the assistant's face flush with a deep, embarrassed red. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, and straightened in his seat across from you in the carriage.
"Yes, well
 I suppose I am," the usually composed assistant stammered, his hands fidgeting nervously. "And I need to apologise for all the times I was mean to you."
You tilted your head, intrigued. "Oh? And why were you so mean to me, Assistant Choi?"
Jongho sighed deeply, his gaze falling to his lap. "I didn't mean any of it. I was bitter because I thought it was unfair that you seemed to have it easy while I had to work so hard. But now
 now I see how hard you work and how much you deserve every bit of recognition you get. And your family, if you can even call them that— I... I was wrong about everything, and I'm truly sorry."
His eyes met yours, brimming with genuine regret and admiration. "Most importantly, I've come to realise how much I admire you and how much I enjoy being around you. It's been hard, and I have no one to blame but myself for pretending I didn't want to hold you close, feeling foolish for pushing you away when all I wanted was to be by your side."
You felt a warmth spread through you at his heartfelt words. "And that was why, when I found out you were gone, I had to get you back. I can't lose you without having you know how I feel. I promise that this time, you'll never have another reason to return to the Kwon estate. You'll always have a home here with us
 with me."
You blinked, slightly confused. "As sweet as that is
 you do know I was planning to return to the general's estate the next day, right?"
He went speechless, his eyes widening in surprise. "Y-you were
?"
You nodded. "Yeah, I was just going to attend the funeral. Besides, who would care for the mistress if I was gone? I promised I'd help her through it, and I intend to. Didn't Eunsook or the general tell you that?"
Jongho shook his head, a mix of relief and frustration washing over him. He silently cursed Seonghwa, his wife, and Eunsook for making him look like a fool.
You sighed, a light laugh escaping your lips. "And here I was, worried that the lady's water might have broken because of how suddenly you appeared to take me back."
He softened, a sheepish grin slowly replacing his earlier tension. "Well, I guess that makes me look a bit like an idiot. But I'm glad I could finally be honest with you and with myself. I promise I'll be good to you and make up for all my past mistakes
 if you'll let me."
You reached out hesitantly for his hand, then nervously retreated, feeling unsure. But he was quick to hold onto your hand firmly, cradling it against his chest, letting you feel his heart racing for you. Heart fluttering in your chest, you smiled warmly. "Jongho, I never wanted anything more than for you to be honest with me. I forgive you. Let's... let us try again."
His eyes lit up with relief and joy, his grip on your hand tightening with earnestness. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning in slightly. "I won't let you down."
As the carriage continued its journey, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, a new bond beginning to weave itself between you. For the first time, you felt a deep sense of peace, knowing that the future held promise and that you had someone who truly cared by your side.
Arriving back at the general's estate, Seonghwa greeted you both with a teasing smile and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Ah, Miss Kwon, you're back a day early!"
Jongho shot the older man a flat, unamused look but couldn't hide the blush and adoration in his eyes as he watched you. You suppressed a laugh, noting the general's knowing grin.
"Yes, sir," you replied with a grateful smile at Jongho. "Assistant Choi was kind enough to bring me back early. Now I should probably get to work—I'm sure the mistress could use my assistance."
Giving his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, you turned to head towards the House of Lotus. The assistant stood there, rooted to the spot, his gaze following you with a lovesick grin, already missing you.
I can't believe she's really mine...
Observing the scene with amusement, Seonghwa clapped him on the shoulder. "I told you I'd help you find a wife. Perfect, isn't she? Just wait until I tell Miss Kwon all about your speech on how you'd be a terrible husband."
The younger man cleared his throat, irritation on his face. "Sir, need I remind you that you were once just as hopeless as I am?"
Seonghwa fell silent, his smile fading as he remembered his own awkward past.
"Look at you now, all grown up," the general teased. "Now get back to work if you're so free to stand around. It's not a honeymoon until you ask for her hand in marriage, and I expect that to happen soon!"
Jongho's face turned a deep shade of red. He stammered, "Y-yes, sir. I need to, um
 get something done."
In a flurry of flustered haste, he dashed off, muttering about urgent tasks. Seonghwa chuckled, watching his dedicated assistant with a sense of satisfaction. It was heartening to see that even the stubborn Jongho had finally found love. General Park couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, knowing that all his friends had found their own happiness. His thoughts then drifted to a certain fourth prince, wondering how he was faring these days.
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Aaand we're finally done with baby bear's love story! Hope it was decent! Are y'all ready for Prince Yeo's spinoff? One last story to go before wrapping up this universe! I am, of course, open to doing more TWTHH bonus content but we'll see hehe~
As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3
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babyblue711 · 8 months ago
Text
Surrender
(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen - Part 2 (read Part 1 Here) Summary: Having spent the week at the Targaryen's countryside estate, you find yourself pulled into an unexpected tryst when Aemond confronts you about your mixed signals. Words: 5K
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Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, Lots of Sexual Shenanigans A/N: As requested by popular demand, here is Part 2! I think this was the most fun I've ever had when writing a fic. (And please, for the banner, let's pretend Ewan has one eye for Aemond's sake 😅) I hope you all enjoy! đŸ”„
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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Various forms of tension now fill the house and you can’t help but feel responsible. There is a magnetic attraction that lingers in the air between you and Aegon, but your playful text to Aemond had clearly not been well-received; he had never bothered responding and was now resolutely ignoring you. In return, you mirrored his behavior, determined not to let it affect you.
On Sunday morning, Helaena approaches you with an enticing offer: to extend your stay for the entire week. With your laptop in tow, the prospect of working remotely from their opulent estate is exciting, especially since it means you can continue spending time with Aegon.
Luckily, neither Helaena nor Daeron knows about your hookup with him. For the rest of the week, he visits your bed each night and it is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He’s a generous lover, prioritizing your pleasure before his own and his attentiveness afterwards is always exceptional, although he never spends the full night with you. Mindful of Aemond’s text message, you try to tone down your lusty moans of rapture, but you still feel like he knows what’s going on regardless.
On the last full day before you are set to return to the city, you and Aegon make plans to go for another trail ride. However, after lunch he starts to complain of a stomach ache leading Aemond to step in and offer to take you riding instead. This unexpected turn of events leaves you feeling momentarily stunned, given Aemond has been doing a very good job pretending you didn’t exist up until that moment. Despite your reservations, you agree to Aemond's proposal, still feeling a little wary of his sudden change of heart. 
“You can ride on Sunfyre this time,” Aegon groans from the couch, referring to his grey gelding, as you and Aemond head out the door. 
At first you are unsure of what to expect, but soon find yourself embarking on another memorable riding adventure, only this time with Aemond. It quickly becomes apparent that he shares your love for horses and the great outdoors, if not even more passionately than his brother. You make a bit of small talk as you ride, but most of the time, the gentle plodding of your horses’ hooves and the swish of their tails are the only things that can be heard.
The day was hot and humid, though cooler in the shade of the woods along the trail. A few miles into your ride, you come across a babbling stream with crystal water and decide to stop to let the horses rest and take a much needed drink. 
“Thank you for letting me ride Vhagar this week,” you say sincerely, taking a refreshing gulp of water from your canteen, “She’s a good horse.” Aemond offers a small smile, affectionately patting his mare on the neck. 
“No problem,” he replies casually, “She seems to like you and, to be honest, she doesn’t warm up to most people. Typically bucks them off within a few minutes,” he glances up to gauge your reaction. “I figured that’s why Aegon had you take her out, so he could laugh when you fell off,” he adds nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw Aegon under the bus. 
Your expression falters briefly, causing you to second guess your perception of Aegon if what Aemond is saying is true but you quickly regain your composure.
“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” you manage to say as Sunfyre starts to paw, splashing water everywhere and soaking your boots. You urge him from the stream before he decides to roll in the cool water and Aemond follows on Vhagar; you swear you think you see a small, smug smile tug on the corners of his lips. 
As you head back home, the mood seems to lighten and you finally feel like you have a small breakthrough with Aemond. Unlike his brother, Aemond’s nature is more naturally reserved, but you are growing to appreciate his calm demeanor in contrast to Aegon's chaotic behavior. He isn’t as quick to laugh or make jokes either, but you manage to coax him into opening up by asking about his interests, particularly books. He eagerly shares insights into the history of the Targaryen family and their estate, keeping the conversation lively until you reach the barn.
You hand Sunfyre off to the attending groom once more, feeling hot and sticky from your ride, eager to get back to the house to take a cool shower. Aemond falls into step beside you. 
“So you and Hel are headed back to the city tomorrow?” Aemond inquires casually.
“Yeah we are, have to get back to the grind,” you say with a sigh, a note of reluctance in your tone. The week spent away from the city, immersed in fresh air and nature, had been incredibly rejuvenating and you weren’t ready to leave just yet. Fortunately, Helaena is also your flatmate, and the prospect of returning to hectic city life isn’t as daunting when you have a familiar companion by your side.
“What are your plans?” you ask him in return, aware of his involvement in the family business and his regular trips to the city too. 
“I have a flight to catch to New York tomorrow. Work trip. It’s always hard to leave Vhagar
” he trails off with a slight hedge to his voice and you sense he may have more to share, but something seems to be holding him back. 
“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally, letting the moment ride out, feeling if you were patient, he would speak. It works a little too well. He takes a deep breath before he begins. 
“That text you sent a few days back
” he starts and your heart instantly leaps. Oh god, here we go, you think, now deeply regretting how shameless you had behaved in the moment.
“Did you mean it?” he asks curiously, catching you completely off guard. You had thought he was about to scold you and you certainly didn’t expect him to be inquisitive instead. Your previous words seem to swim in your mind: [Join us next time, then?]  
Did he think you had been serious? You really had only meant it to tease. Regret bubbles in your stomach. 
“I still hear you every night,” he says quietly, gently, not like a reprimand at all, and you continue to feel more unsettled with each passing moment. You blush, embarrassed that you were having this conversation in broad daylight with Aemond of all people.
“I’m sorry, Aemond, truly, I
I tried to be more quiet
” you stammer, trailing off as he takes you by the arm, turning you to stop and face him. You stare up into his crystal blue eye, so much lighter than his brother’s, noticing how much taller he is than Aegon too. Up close, his beauty is so breathtaking, the leather eyepatch that covers his left eye only serves to complement his perfect appearance and intrigue you further. Aemond never spoke about what happened to his eye and you were too intimidated to ever ask. 
“It’s not that,” he cuts you off abruptly. “Your offer, did you mean it?” he asks more insistently and you feel like you could shrink under the intensity of his stare. Did you really want to have a threesome with him and Aegon? Cowardly, you opt to take the easy way out.
“It would be up to Aegon, I suppose,” you manage to choke out, feeling confident that Aegon would never agree. The way he possessively devours your body, like he is trying to consume your very being when you are together makes you think he isn’t the type to share.
Aemond nods, seeming satisfied with that answer as he abruptly resumes walking back to the house and you can barely keep up with his long strides. What the hell was that about? 
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Feeling refreshed from your cold shower, you open your bathroom door, still wrapped in only a towel to see Aegon sprawled across your bed, giving you a calculated stare. Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected presence in your bedroom and he has a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve seen before. 
“So,” he says lightly and gets right to the point, “You want to have a threesome with Aemond?” 
You gape like a fish out of water as you backtrack. “I - I didn’t say that. Aemond mentioned it to me on the way back to the house,” you mumble, trying not to feel like you’re in trouble.
“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his phone, scrolling as if he’s looking for something, “What’s this then?” 
He holds out his phone and shows you a screenshot of the message you had sent to Aemond earlier in the week, inviting him to join you and Aegon. Aemond clearly has shown Aegon proof of your “offer”, the traitor. Clearly, your lighthearted jest has taken an unexpected turn and signals have been crossed between these two brothers. 
Aegon cannot contain a look of triumph as your guilty eyes flash back to his face. Before you can explain more thoroughly he smirks, “I didn’t know you were also into my brother
”
“Aegon, it was just a joke, I was teasing him,” you try to clarify your intentions and prove you aren’t trying to hide anything, now thoroughly wishing you had been this direct with Aemond too. You didn’t foresee it coming back to haunt you like this. 
“Really? Because that’s not what Aemond said,” Aegon counters, “So do you want to? It would be hot watching my brother fuck you,” he adds provocatively and your breath catches in your chest at his words. 
So many emotions whirl through your mind in an instant. Shock. Guilt. Bewilderment. Confusion. Hurt that he would give you up so easily to another man. Excitement. Lust. Desire. Simultaneously, another thought tugs at your heart: a mixture of determination and defiance. You had been so sure that Aegon would be the one to tell Aemond ‘no’ and you were starting to question his attachment to you, if indeed there had been one at all. If he was so willing to share you with someone else, perhaps you should make him regret this decision. The thought of making Aegon insanely jealous ignites a spark of mischief within your chest.
“Fine,” you say coolly, lifting your chin. “I’d love to fuck your brother,” you taunt seductively, pretending not to care more deeply about Aegon than you do and deliberately trying to push his buttons, but Aegon only gives you a devilish grin. 
“Brilliant. I’ll tell him then,” and with that, he springs off your bed, his earlier stomach ache seemingly forgotten, and bounds out the door in search of Aemond. 
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You were a nervous wreck the whole rest of the day. What had you just agreed to? You curse your need for revenge on Aegon. 
That evening, you opt to quietly observe Aemond, feeling a need to familiarize yourself with the person that you would soon be sleeping with. While Aegon could be abundantly charming when he wanted to be, Aemond was simply grace incarnate. You pay particular attention to his interactions with each sibling: he is tolerant of Aegon’s antics, patient with the youthfulness of his younger brother, Daeron, and generously kind to his sister, listening to her discussions about various bugs with genuine interest, as if her words are the most interesting thing in the world. Coupled with his ethereal beauty, you start to question that Aemond might actually be the better of the two brothers. Boyfriend material flashes through your mind. 
At last, you bid the group goodnight for the evening and retire to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you sprint to the bathroom, rushing to brush your teeth, apply more deodorant and fix your hair, trying to make yourself as presentable as possible for perfect, proper Aemond. You aren’t sure why you were doing this; why do you care what Aemond thinks of you so much?
Finished with your “prep”, you put on your usual pajamas, wishing you had brought something a little sexier than an oversized t-shirt and shorts and sit on your bed to wait. Soon a soft knock comes from your door and you know instantly it’s Aemond. Aegon never knocks.
“Come in!” you manage to squeak out, voice unusually high, feeling nervous. Aemond enters, looking entirely unruffled, carrying something behind his back. He approaches the bed and reveals his surprise, holding out an expensive bottle of champagne. 
“I figured there’s no hurry,” he remarks casually with a shrug as he opens the bottle and takes a gulp, handing it to you. Feeling a bit unconventional drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, you take a sip, enjoying the tangy liquid that runs cool down your throat. 
You both sit in the middle of your large bed facing each other, talking softly while taking turns swigging from the bottle. Soon, you find yourself relaxing and enjoying his company, forgetting that Aegon was supposed to be joining you. You didn’t even wonder where he was. 
When the bottle is empty, you start to feel properly tipsy as Aemond lays a large, warm hand on your leg. You stiffen instantly, unable to help yourself, glancing up into his intense, one-eyed stare.
“I just want to ask, one more time, if you’re sure you want to do this,” he says with soft sincerity. 
This is it. Your way out. You didnïżœïżœt have to sleep with Aemond. However, you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him as you discovered his admirable traits. You believed deep down that Aemond was genuinely kind, one of those "nice guys," so to speak. Moreover, defiance still pounds in your heart at the thought of making Aegon jealous, if he decided to show up at this point.
“Yeah, I want to Aemond, truly,” you respond genuinely, placing your hand overtop of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and seems to relax, his sensuous mouth curling into a true smile.
“Should we start without him?” you whisper, alluding to Aegon. 
“Yeah, fuck him, I’m not waiting,” Aemond replies boldly before grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you across the bed so you’re right next to him. You slide easily on the soft satin comforter and giggle in delight. Aemond’s lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth as you melt into him immediately. 
Aemond's kiss ignites a fire within you; while you considered Aegon a skilled kisser, a few moments with Aemond had you wondering who was better. His kiss is effortless, your lips fitting together flawlessly, his gentle tongue playfully exploring your mouth, as you take turns sucking on each other’s bottom lip. You moan softly as you instinctively grasp his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Already you can feel your core getting slick with desire and an ache forming at the apex of your thighs.
Aemond maneuvers you to lay on your back and settles overtop of you, lightly pressing you under his weight and you surrender once more to a new man, but this one you think might be more worthy than the last. Still clothed, you are fully immersed in battling his tongue when you hear a low whistle.
“You fuckers started without me,” Aegon growls, low and deep, and you jump, startled since you hadn’t heard him come in. You break the kiss with Aemond, turning to look at Aegon standing beside the bed, seeming completely unfazed seeing his younger brother on top of the girl he’s been fucking all week. Aemond ignores him completely as he kisses your exposed neck, pretending like there’s been no interruption. You notice Aegon is holding his own bottle of champagne and a bag of popcorn, now grinning like a barn cat that has just caught the biggest mouse; he moves to sit in the corner and waves his hand for you to continue. 
You roll your eyes and return your attention to Aemond, who is now sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. You decide to get things moving before you lose your nerve now that you have an audience. You slide Aemond's shirt off, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of his fit physique by tracing your fingers across his chest and along the defined muscles of his back. It's almost like a choreographed dance as you and Aemond smoothly help each other out of your clothes, moving with such synchronized ease that it feels like you're perfectly attuned to each other.
As you remove his shorts, his cock springs free, large and heavy against his thigh. Taking him in hand, you give him a few experimental pumps, making him grunt appreciatively; you find yourself absentmindedly wondering who is bigger, the Targaryen men are clearly blessed in this particular department. 
You try to ignore the sounds of Aegon chewing popcorn as you and Aemond settle back onto the bed, completely unclothed now. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind being naked in front of his brother and you take his lead as your heart flutters nervously, still mindful of having a witness. He bites down onto the fleshy part of your breast, sucking with enthusiasm and you don’t even care about the mark you know it’ll leave. He moves on and takes one of your nipples into his mouth next, rolling the other between his fingers as he works his way down your body, finally settling between your thighs and licking your soaked pussy like a lollipop; you both groan with pleasure. You spread your legs wide for him and start to knead your own breasts, putting your body on display for Aegon, feigning more confidence than you felt in the moment. You glance over and see him watching you and Aemond hungrily. 
Aemond’s lips lock around your bud and he sucks harshly causing you to buck your hips into his face and cry aloud, your breath picking up as pleasure courses like electricity through your body. You feel him slip a finger inside of you followed by another and he crooks them against your sweet spot all while continuing to suck on your bud like he is trying to slurp the thickest milkshake. 
It’s not long before your thighs are shaking around his head as you wail in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through your core, pussy clenching tightly down onto Aemond’s fingers. You no longer notice Aegon’s presence and you secretly hope he’s burning with jealousy at the way Aemond is unraveling you thoroughly. Aegon clears this throat as you come down from your high and return to your senses.
“I want her on top, Aemond,” he commands from the dark corner of the room. You think Aemond will refuse as he isn’t the type that usually takes orders, and especially not from Aegon, but he lays on his back and positions you to hover above him. Achingly slow, still sensitive from your climax, you spear yourself on his hard, thick cock, sinking inch by delicious inch, savoring the stretch of your soft velvet walls. You breathe through your nose as you try to relax and welcome Aemond into your body, joining as one.
You both groan in unison when you finally sit flush against him, his cock buried deep. He gives you a moment to adjust and lets you set the pace. Knowing Aegon is seated behind you, you lean forward slightly, bracing your hands against Aemond’s chest, arching your back as you ride his cock, letting Aegon get the best view of Aemond’s thick length sliding in and out of your tight pussy, no longer feeling insecure about being watched. In this position, your sensitive bud rubs consistently against Aemond’s pubic bone and you can already feel another orgasm mounting deep in your belly. You toss your hair and moan loudly in pleasure, uttering filthy words to Aemond, knowing full well Aegon can hear you too. You want to leave him without any doubt just how much you are enjoying his brother. 
Beneath you, Aemond looks like a fallen angel. His one eye is hooded and dark with lust, the angles of his exquisite face are sharp in the low light, his sensual lips are parted slightly as he pants softly while you move up and down on his length. His luminous blonde hair is splay out on the bed, creating a sort of halo around his head.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.
Spurred on by your passionate words of lust, Aemond grasps your hips and picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you hope for bruises. Taking control, he fucks up into you from below, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You start mumbling nonstop again, like you always do when you’re about to cum.
“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock, sweet girl?” Aemond says in a low growl as he watches your tits bounce above him. 
“A-Aemond, don’t stop,” is all you can manage as your peak crashes over you with the force of a hurricane and Aemond groans as your pussy tightens like a vice around him. He rides out your climax, sustaining your pleasure as you soar into oblivion. Finally, feeling like jelly, you topple off of Aemond and onto the soft bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover from your second mind-blowing orgasm. 
“My turn,” suddenly, Aegon stands on the edge of the bed, totally naked and stroking his hard, thick cock. Now that the two are visually out for comparison, you think Aemond’s might be a tad longer, but they are both just as thick.
Your brain feels fuzzy, swirling with endorphins from the rush of your climax. Despite your haze, excitement pulses through your chest when you see that Aegon has finally come to play, hoping he got tired of watching Aemond fuck you so thoroughly. Although being with two men at once is entirely new territory, you trust them completely to take care of you properly and not abuse their positions of power. With a new sense of confidence, adrenaline surges through your veins and you decide to take charge.
“Lay on the bed,” you direct at Aegon and he obeys you instantly, climbing onto the bed and laying his head on your pillow. You crawl over to him, swaying your hips seductively and meeting his dark blue gaze.
“So, did you enjoy watching that?” you purr innocently while taking his cock in your hand and squeezing. 
“More than you know,” he manages to respond before you lower your head and take him in your mouth. Maintaining eye contact with him, you put on a bit of a show as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.
Realizing Aemond is watching from afar, you look over your shoulder at him while continuing to pump Aegon with your other hand. You consider him for a moment, impressed with his endurance as he still hasn’t cum himself, despite riding out your orgasm while buried deep within your body. 
“Aemond, I need you too,” you whine, tossing your hair over your shoulder and bringing your ass in the air, giving him a pointed look; his lips lift in a devilish smirk. 
As Aemond comes to kneel behind you, there is a kinetic sort of energy that passes between the brothers as their eyes meet and you feel a shift as the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you aren’t entirely sure why; all you know is that you suddenly feel like a lamb caught between two apex predators. Undaunted, the thought makes you chuckle; Aemond has already begun to pick you apart with absurd precision and you feel ready for more. 
You take Aegon into your mouth again as you feel Aemond spread your ass cheeks apart with a firm grip, taking a moment to admire the view before re-entering you from behind, moving slowly to help you adjust to this new angle. You moan in pleasure as Aemond’s cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in this position. Aegon grunts as your moans reverberate around his dick and you hear him whisper “yeah, that’s it,” as your head bobs along his thick length. With one hand wrapped around the rest of Aegon’s girth that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh, trying to hold yourself steady as Aemond’s hips snap roughly into your backside. 
“She really does have the most perfect cunt, brother,” Aemond rumbles, grunting in appreciation as he watches his fat cock slide in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “You were right.”
“I told you she could be our perfect little slut,” Aegon groans in agreement and gives you a dark smile. You try to ignore the fact that they are talking about you like you aren’t even there. Despite your senses being fully enveloped in a primal sort of lust, you feel a small prick of unease. How much did they discuss about you before today? Have they planned this all along?
You hardly have time to consider further before Aegon takes you by the hair and earnestly starts to fuck your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as he thrusts in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and try your best to take him, choking at times as his cock touches the back of your throat, all while Aemond continues a steady pace fucking your pussy from behind. Tears prick your eyes and Aegon wipes them away with his thumb, murmuring “good girl” softly and encouraging you to keep going. You watch as his abs contract in pleasure as your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip; you find it becoming more difficult to focus on Aegon as Aemond brings his hand around and starts to play with your bud, rubbing tight, fast circles. Your breath is caught in your chest and you let out a sultry moan. 
For a moment, all that can be heard is heavy breathing, grunts of pleasure, skin slapping erotically, and a juicy sucking noise from your mouth as your orgy progresses. With Aemond’s expert attention on your bud, your walls start to flutter again and you redouble your efforts to suck off Aegon, determined that you both should cum at the same time; his breathing is becoming labored and you know he’s close. Within a few more moments, the three of you climax together in unison; Aegon grunts as his girth pulses in your hand, shooting his seed down your throat just as Aemond’s cock pumps his into your pussy, emptying deep inside you. He gives your ass a hard slap and you wail once more as mind numbing pleasure courses through your belly as your pussy milks Aemond dry.
Swallowing your mouthful, you collapse, exhausted, onto the bed next to Aegon, completely worn out by your third orgasm. Aegon pants softly beside you and Aemond plops down on your other side, the only one to still seem composed despite the sheen of sweat on his chest from his own exertion. 
The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as your breathing returns to normal. Aegon rolls to his side and captures your lips between his own. You think he’s just giving you a sweet sort of kiss as a “thank you” for a great time, until he takes your leg and swings it over his hip, reaching down and playing with your sensitive bud. You buck you hips away from his hand and whine pathetically, telling him without words that you are almost too sensitive to touch at this point. He shushes you gently and you feel him reach down to your entrance and gather Aemond’s spend that’s leaking from your pussy, bringing it up and circling your bud with a featherlight touch.
You feel Aemond move until he’s spooning you from behind, trapping you. He brushes your hair to the side as he starts to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses while his large warm hand caresses your back, moving down to squeeze the ample flesh of your ass. Despite your exhaustion, you feel yourself getting aroused again at their attention. Aegon’s skin is burning as you lay facing him, chest to chest, and Aemond is just as hot against your backside. You feel caught between two flames, like you could catch fire entwined around the brothers.
Aegon continues to kiss you slowly, circling your bud, your leg still hooked over his hip when you feel another set of digits come to play at the entrance of your pussy. You flinch slightly, but Aemond doesn’t enter you digitally, instead seeming to gather more fluid on his fingertips. Without warning, you jump when you feel him spreading his spend on your asshole. Aemond hushes you sweetly, kissing right below your ear, as he starts to push ever so gently on your puckered hole. 
“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond slowly starts inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.
“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet. 
“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”
The story continues in Part 3
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Tags: @rhaenyslay, @elizarbell, @aemondsscar, @peonamay, @cyeco13, @quinnquinn317, @multyfangirl, @myfandomprompts, @thekinslayed, @pandemonium105, @fan-goddess, @vencuyot
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theemporium · 10 months ago
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Could you possibly write something for Nico where he dates shy reader and he is all lovey dovey with her post game win when they celebrate together? Perhaps she wears his jersey? Thank you for considering. đŸ«¶đŸ»
thank you for requesting!đŸ«¶đŸœ
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It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Nico, it was more so the fact the games were a lot more intense and intimidating when you were in person.
You watched every game without fail, though usually it was from the comfort of your own couch whilst you were buried in one of his hoodies. And despite what people assumed, he didn’t mind. He knew you supported him. He knew that the second the game was over, you would be on the phone to him to tell him exactly what you thought of the game, always complementing the way he played regardless of whether the Devils won or lost.
And he knew games in person weren’t really your thing. You didn’t like the attention of being sat by the glass and, even though you got along with the other players’ families and friends, it still felt a little intense to be in a suite with them for the whole game. You didn’t like the pressure of having to keep up friendly small talk during the game, but Nico knew you would because you would have felt bad otherwise. 
So, in all honesty, he didn’t mind that you didn’t go to his games. 
But there was something that made his heart want to burst out of his chest on the games you did attend in person. 
“Fuck you, Panthers!” 
Nico huffed out a laugh, shaking his head at Jack’s antics. The boy was already one too many drinks deep into their post-game celebration after—by some miraculous turn of events—thrashing the Panthers on Jersey soil with a buzzing 6-1. 
“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Nico teased, but the boy didn’t care as he grinned widely at his captain. 
“Give it a break, Cap, go back to making heart eyes at your girl!” Jack snickered, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. He didn’t think Nico had let go of you since he had stepped out of the locker room. “We fucking broke the streak! We are allowed to celebrate!”
“Let him have his fun,” you said, your arms tightening to gain your boyfriend’s attention as he tore his eyes away from Jack to look down at you. His gaze softened in an instant and it made your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You all deserve to celebrate the win after the rough streak.” 
“Hm, maybe we won because you were here,” Nico teased, though there was a sincerity in his words that made you think he truly believed his own words. “Wanna come to Montreal with us?”
You snorted, shaking your head. “Today was all you, I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Nico said with a massive smile on his lips as his fingers playfully tugged on the hem of the jersey you were wearing. “We lost the last five games until my girl walked in with her lucky jersey on. I think that’s all the proof we need.”
Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the lucky jersey in question. It was an old jersey of his, maybe one from a year or two ago. He had given it to you near the start of your relationship, when he was leaving for his first roadie since you started seeing each other. You joked about buying some Devils merch to support him whilst you watched the games and he had handed you the jersey the night before he left. You wore it for every game you watched—or at least, you tried to. 
This had been the first game in a while you had worn it since you lost it in the process of moving apartments with Nico, into an apartment big enough for the two of you.
“You hockey players and your superstitions,” you murmured, tucking your chin against your chest to hide how flushed ‘my girl’ made you.
But Nico was one step ahead of you as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, lifting your head until he could look down at your flustered face with a soft smile. “I heard kissing the captain after a win gives the team good luck for their next.”
You laughed and his expression brightened. “Yeah?”
“Mhm, an old hockey legend,” Nico nodded. 
“Well, you gotta kiss him now!” Jack exclaimed from the other side of the table. “We need the luck!”
You laughed harder as you wrapped your arms around his waist once again and grinned up at him. “I think I can get behind that superstition.”
And Nico barely gave you a chance to finish your sentence before he leaned down to kiss you, his smile pressed against yours.
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