#I love the line in reflections that’s like ‘your mother always knows’

[thou-babbling-brook]

Did a redesign of Connor’s mystery wife! She’s gotta be my oldest OC, I literally designed her like a week after I got into AC back in February 2019. I know @ramshackledtrickster has posted her a bunch, but I wanted to share her on here too :3

Her name is Tekonwenaharake! That’s more of a placeholder name, really, since there’s a living Mohawk person with the name, but I don’t wanna just refer to her as “T” or “Connor’s wife,” so I’ll be tagging her like this if I post her more!

These drawings came about because I was playing around with drawing her more historically accurate. Eventually, I found a happy medium between her original design and historical records from the time (paintings, clothes, etc.). I really loved how this turned out and I hope you guys do too!

Also fun fact: I always try to make her look like an older version of Io:nhiòte since I imagine she looks a lot like her mom. I imagine even the earrings were gifts to Io:nhiòte that she then wears in the AC Reflections comic!

[jsooly]

taken in by the sullys (7) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, you catch up on some home videos of you and jake while he was human, much to the delight and fascination of the younger sullys

thank you to @ashton-trashton for the idea!

+ can't wait to write the rest of your requests! enjoy this while i continue writing death in the family! <3

(1) / . . . / (6*) / (7- ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

2165 (you were 14 years old)

as you grew older, you had more questions about the past

jake wasn't too happy with that, especially when you started showing interest in the memory of your birth mother

he was never misleading with you, though, and answered any question you had enthusiastically

he always knew you would be curious eventually, but to experience it just meant you were growing up... and possibly away from him

he's jealous

he just loves you so much and gets sad thinking about the future, one where you might not be as close to him as you were as a child

"why do you always get that look on your face when talking about her?" you swung your legs back and forth on the stubby rocky ledge near the river.

the quiet hum of the passing water didn't reflect the whirlpool of confusion within you. you would solidify your identity in your adolescence, a task that would prove difficult among your kind on earth, much less on pandora.

jake rested his arm beside you, leaning as he watched the younger ones play in the water. "what look?"

you scrunched your face, mimicking the way he cringed whenever you brought her up. jake chuckled softly at your impression.

"you've always been my baby. it's hard for me to think of you as someone else's." jake explained, picking a leaf from your hair and tossing it to the side.

you pondered on that idea. his statement would have irked you a while ago. you weren't his biological daughter, a fact that startled you when you were old enough to understand the weight of it. equating it with being an orphan, a burden to jake and neytiri, you stewed in turmoil for years until they loved the doubt out of your mind.

"that makes sense, i guess." your voice tapered off, responding to show him that you were listening more than to contribute to the conversation.

jake huffed a short chuckle, pulling you into his side and nuzzling into your head affectionately. "don't worry too much about it. you're ours, since the beginning and 'til the end."

while you understood, it didn't stop you from searching for remnants of the past, a task that was easy since the sully kids were allowed to pass in and out of the avatar grounds freely

when kiri was a bit older, they started connecting her to grace via the video logs

on one occasion kiri spotted you in the background, your scandalous laughter followed jake’s playful voice

"look!" kiri's finger jammed into the LED computer screen, tapping furiously as if she wanted to direct your attention to the every pixel that contributed to your image. "tsmuke, tsal's nga!" (sister, it's you!)

you squinted, looking past grace in the foreground and spotting yourself and jake rolling around. a smile snaked its way onto your face as you heard the background chatter, vaguely remembering moments like these. "huh. that is me."

"we need to look for more." kiri said, her golden eyes set with determination. she grabbed your wrist and pulled it towards the keyboard, silently urging you to search the video log collection.

you chuckled, amused. "okay, okay! i'm looking." you relented, scouring the files for familiar dates or settings.

so many. you didn't even realize the extent of these video logs. each member of grace's team did one, often multiple times a day, and you were always there in some shape or form. it hit you that the first 3 and a half years of your life were largely documented on camera and you didn't know about it.

you started to go through them methodically, starting from the very beginning. most of them starred grace complaining about the higher ups for lacking the competence to allocate resources better, now that she's stuck with a child. but within minutes, she was speaking about incorporating you into her routine with a warmth and softness.

you cringed when you witnessed how maladjusted you were to the mountain lab. you were cranky all the time, aggressive with your caretakers, and above all, lonely and sad. grace and her team had duties to do, and for the most part 'took care of you' by making sure you had stuff to eat and giving you a book to read.

you didn't hold it against them. they did what they could to look after you.

you were parked in front of the computer for hours on end.

"uh, y/n..." norm peeked around the corner, a towel slung around his shoulders. "your dad's calling. wants you home."

"uh-huh." you drone, shaking the mouse to life and catching a glimpse of the time left for the log. you fought the urge to grit your teeth upon seeing the number. "i got two minutes left, i'll head out after that."

"okay, be safe. night night."

"night." you hummed, wishing the progress bar would fall off screen to prevent norm from catching that there was actually about half an hour left for the video. what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

time ticked by and it was as if there were a gentle hand easing your head towards the desk, weighing you down and down until you had the sense to shoot back up again. you rubbed your eyes roughly, blinking wide to force yourself awake.

it wasn't much help. you finally settled down against the desk—gravity must be stronger, since you couldn't find the strength to get up...

it'd be a death sentence to trek back home now. jake appeared shortly after as if he knew.

"y/n..." he sang softly, circling around you cautiously. any annoyance he had at the late hour vanished when he saw your exhausted face. he poked your shoulder.

"hm?" you sprung up, eyes still half-closed. drowsiness gnawed on your brain, and for a moment you forgot where you were.

jake chuckled, squatting beside you and supporting you from falling off your chair. you fell onto his shoulder, mumbling a half-hearted apology for not coming home on time. his eyes flickered to the screen as he took a breath from his gas mask.

"huh." his head tilted a bit when he saw his human self on the screen. it had been so long, he was starting to forget what he looked like; the pale skin, buzzcut, wheelchair... he didn't feel any regret leaving that jake sully behind at all. "why're you watchin' this, baby?"

you smacked your lips, your senses returning to you momentarily. "why, is it bad?"

"no, no. it's not bad, just..." he struggled to find the words. "we were dealing with some pretty heavy stuff, kiddo. fighting and all that."

you frowned, shrugging. "but you won, so it's all okay. besides, you looked pretty cool, dad." you hummed, directing his attention to his tattoos on screen. "can i have one of these?"

"absolutely not." jake scoffed, playfully swatting your hand away from the screen. "hurts like a bitch." he swore, then froze up. "uh... don't repeat that. it's a bad word."

"you've said bitch on camera, like, a hundred times already." you deadpanned. "and some other ones, like—"

"we don't gotta repeat 'em, baby." jake's mind reeled hearing you swear for the first time, the urge to scold you or laugh at you battling in his mind. the confidence and ease with which you cursed made him think it was not your first time swearing at all.

jake's amusement was far greater, so he laughed and pulled you into a tight embrace. "especially not around your mother, got it?"

his hug was like a warm bath on an early school morning, just a few seconds in comfort was enough to knock you out. you dropped like lead.

"got it?" he repeated, peeking at you in his arms and resisting the urge to squeeze you affectionately when he heard your soft breathing. he leaned back on his haunches, preparing to get up.

but the bright blue light of the video logs snared his attention once again. his own curiosity got the better of him. with a drawn out sigh, he fastened his mask around his face just in case he dozed off, and pressed play.

needless to say, jake was not successful in bringing you back home

leaving the lab was a challenge since you didn't want to leave without seeing the rest

jake asked norm to make a copy the log vault, for both you and kiri to watch

ever since then, you were addicted to it and pulled many all-nighters (much to jake's dismay)

it was even worse when the other kids gathered around, equally interested

"awww," lo'ak giggled. "y/n was so tiny!"

neteyam and kiri snickered alongside him. all you could do was roll your eyes playfully. seeing a human baby was a novelty for them, especially since they were the size of a toddler from birth.

"you mean is so tiny" kiri grinned, clinging to your back as she peered at the screen. "not much has changed."

"ha ha." you deadpanned, giving them a teasing glare, turning your attention back to the video.

"no, no, y/n. don't put that in your mouth." jake glanced off camera, his eyes anticipating your next movement.

you slurred some vowels together off camera, snapping back at him in your own way. he gave you a look. "i mean it, kid. drop it."

there was some shuffling off camera and jake sighed, his hand darting out to grab the pen from you, tossing it to the side. "you're interrupting my log here, you know." he huffed a laugh.

you walked towards him, bumping the camera off center, the view now askew. it caught jake's grin, his arms opening up to catch you and set you on his leg. "now, if you're gonna sit here, you're need to be quiet. grace will kill me if i don't get this thing done. okay?"

you nod, your eyes already trailing over all the new papers and equipment on the desk.

"okay." jake grunted, straightening the camera before sitting back in his wheelchair. his hand was firmly around your stomach, holding you in place before you had the mind to wander off and fall somewhere out of reach.

a smile tugged on your lips watching the scene before you. your dynamic with jake hadn't changed much; in fact, he was even more of a sucker that he often let you do as you please. you, like his other daughters, had him wrapped around your finger.

"it is... june 15th, 2154." he sighed, wracking his brain for what he learned and accomplished during his drive. "i went hunting with neytiri again—"

"he's talking about mom!" lo'ak gasped in realization, even more eager to pay attention.

"—she's been teaching me everything. how to move, to listen, to feel... it's humbling. even more humbling now that neytiri has chosen to take the 'learn fast or die' approach. the more my training is pushed deeper and deeper into the forest, the more i hear that i'm like a baby. every time i do something good she somehow misses it. but every time i stumble, she's looking right at me as if i'm hopeless."

jake ponders for a moment, his features set with a soft kind of... affection. "neytiri moves like the whole world bends to her will. she's... incredible." he clears his throat suddenly, startling you in his lap. you give him a weird look.

the sully kids exchanged uncomfortable looks as they watched their father pine after their mother in real time.

"ew." kiri said simply, her nose scrunching. neteyam and lo'ak nodded in agreement.

"incredibly terrifying." jake revised his previous statement, his gaze flickering to you. "you know she calls me a moron? skxawng." he laughed to himself, running his free hand over his face. "i hear that word so much, i'm starting to think it's my new name."

the camera caught you rolling your eyes.

"yeah, see?" lo'ak jerked a thumb at the screen, accompanied by a soft snicker. "even baby y/n knows dad's on some bull—"

"dad's what?" jake entered the marui, raising an eyebrow.

lo'ak scrambled behind you, kiri shoving him away from her place of refuge behind your back as neteyam rolled his eyes.

jake sat beside you all, grabbing lo'ak's arm and pulling him into a playful headlock. "you making fun of me, son?"

lo'ak burst with laughter, using all his strength to try and squirm out of jake's arms. "dad, let go!" he complained between giggles.

"we're just listening to how you fumbled with mom." kiri explained.

"fumble?" jake pursed his lips. with him distracted, lo'ak popped out of his headlock and climbed on his father's back. "i did not fumble your mom. half of you wouldn't be here otherwise."

"sure, it worked out..." you gave your siblings a conspiratorial look. "but dad, i'm sorry, you were such a loser."

jake gawked at you, blocking out the gasps and giggles from the rest of the children momentarily.

you laughed nervously before pulling up your proof. you scrubbed through the video. "here's where you start taking about mom," you fast forwarded 15 minutes. "look, you're still rambling about her." you skipped through the rest. "actually, you never stop going on about her."

"so? she was the only part of my day that i looked forward to, obviously i'm going to have a lot to say." jake retorted, rolling his eyes.

"for someone who doesn't tolerate idiots, she picked a big one to mate with." you said lowly, earning a grin from neteyam beside you.

"hey, i heard that!"

"are they bullying you, majake?" neytiri gracefully ducked under the entrance of the marui, baby tuk in her arms.

"mom, mom, you've gotta see this." kiri beckoned neytiri over. she shook your shoulders. "put it back so she can see."

you happily rewinded the clip as the whole family gathered around the computer.

jake bounced you on his leg to calm you. he was nearing an hour on video, and you were growing restless. and yet, he couldn't stop talking.

"she's terrifying in the way you'd wanna sit up straighter when she's around. which i do. a lot. she'd scold me otherwise. she scolds me a lot, actually. for the most part, it seems like i can't do anything right around her."

he shook his head, cringing with embarrassment. "i even tried to make her laugh today. worst decision ever. flew right over her head."

lo'ak snickered. "dad has no game."

"dad has lots of game." jake corrected, huffing. "your mother is just very difficult to impress."

neytiri smiled, cupping jake's face warmly. "don't listen to them, jake. you are my favorite loser."

the marui erupted with giggles as jake dropped his head down, shaking it in defeat.

every time you feel outcast or shunned, you returned to the video logs.

you knew jake had no regret for his human body. he thought it was broken and useless. he had always felt more alive in his na'vi body.

but for you, the images of the past were a great comfort.

present day

jake must have forgotten the log was running, because eventually he didn't acknowledge the camera or speak about pandora.

you were upset again. upset you were stuck in this narrow tin can they called a lab. you never bothered them—you learned it rarely got you the response you wanted. they were busy, working adults. they tried their best.

you were always a priority for jake, though. even if he did leave for hours on end, never once did he try to busy you with something while he did his tasks. more often than not, you were on his leg or in his arms while he was doing his logs.

he pulled you to his chest, patting your back as he hugged you tightly. "yeah, this place isn't exactly a dream for me either. i get it."

he sighed, chugging a canned energy drink before settling back down in his chair. "i know it sucks being on your own. but don't i always come back?"

he held you up in the air, smiling up at you. "don't cry, kid." he chuckled, wiping your cheeks. "you're making me sad, too."

you calmed down a bit, enough for jake to lull you to sleep.

he leaned back in his chair, shifting as he got comfortable to doze off with you. he yawned loudly. "it's you and me against the world, kid. promise."

the video froze as the log finished. you caught your dead eyes in the reflection of the dark screen, staring back at you. you shut the computer off as you hugged your knees to your chest.

the dried saline of your tears hadn't left your skin for hours. the only word bouncing around in your head was liar as you fought the urge to turn back on your promise to return for dinner. you didn't want to go back. you didn't think jake deserved a chance to fix your feelings so soon.

you weren't sure why you pulled up the logs in the first place. you were aware it would only grow your irritation. beneath it all, you were longing for the peace and comfort from your childhood. you found yourself back where you started all those years ago, alone and left behind.

. . .

thanks for reading <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky

© jsooly ‘25

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[aurumalatus]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), slight angst, they are pining as fuck

summary.

on the edge of war, you and kinich face your unresolved tension and forge new promises for the path ahead.

author's note. the new aq quest had me fucking screaming. i feel my kinich love renewed. he will never leave my blood (i hate him but i love him), unedited for now. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

As the Night Warden Wars loom, you find Kinich in the armory in the late hours of the night.

He’s been avoiding you, you know; when you happen to meet in the castle halls, he bows his head as you walk past, unwilling to meet your gaze. The other guards get assigned to you more often now in his stead, pity in their wandering eyes—they’re fully aware of the tension between you and your personal guard. You try your best to ignore it, even when the maids pull you into hugs without explanation and your mother grows more overbearing, always asking if you’re feeling alright.

And, truth be told, you’re not.

Kinich’s insistence to participate in the war worries you to no end. He’s been more reckless lately, taking duties overnight, eyebags growing heavy with exhaustion. He’s trying to distract himself, but from what, you don’t know.

 It’s not that you don’t trust his strength, or even that you want him home to protect you. It’s because you want him to come home to you—period. 

He looks you over, gaze pausing over the bandages wrapping your arm. It seems to pain him, even now—his jaw tightens at the sight. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Neither should you.”

The air feels thick in your lungs. It’s a far cry from your typical interaction, when you’re giggling and he’s rolling his eyes, lighthearted. Now, a frost crawls through your chest when he turns away.

He sets about sharpening his sword with careful strokes.

“Kinich,” you approach, gentle. The muscle of his back grows taut at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please, please reconsider. Or else, I’m coming with you.”

You’re not sure at what point he started to feel so out of reach. Since the last attack, Abyssal forces have grown ever closer. Still, even when he’s only a few feet in front of you, it feels like there’s several walls between you.

He scoffs. “This isn’t just about what you want, Princess, as much as you might think so.”

It comes out bitter, venomous, and so unlike him—the Kinich you know is far gentler, far kinder. As annoying as you can be sometimes, he’s never expressed any irritation whatsoever. Still, he seems genuinely angry with you at the moment.

“What happened to ‘no one fights alone’? That’s what you always say, isn’t it?!”

It’s the motto emblazoned across the Natlan flags, the ones that line the town squares and peek from the top of the castle, proud. You’ve heard Kinich say it many times, as Guard Captain. He sighs.

“That doesn’t include you.”

A fire sparks in your chest, angry; anything that involves your nation certainly involves you. The thought has you advancing toward him, eyes blazing.

“I don’t think that’s up to you, Kinich.” You return your own poison, flinging words off your tongue like blades. “This isn’t just about what you want, as much as you might think so.”

Kinich puts down his greatsword and turns to you, barely concealed rage evident in the way his hands tremble.

“You’re not coming, Princess.” The stress is palpable in his expression, the knit of his brows and the twitch of his lip. “I’ll do whatever I have to. But you’re not taking a damn step toward that battlefield.”

The sheen in his amber eyes reflects something unfamiliar—something ugly and writhing. 

Fear.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kinich look that way before.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, desperate. “What are you running from?”

“What am I so afraid of?” His disposition turns fierce—his canines flash in the light, and you flinch. The action has him deflating immediately, unfamiliar with your panic.

Sighing, he leans back against the wall, sliding down until he comes to a stop on the ground. His head falls into his hands.

It’s quiet. Outside, people are whispering, preparing for the impending battle. In the next few days, people are going to die—your people. The thought is difficult to contend with. The tension weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch your knight.

He’s still hunched over, looking overwhelmingly…small. Child-like. You wonder if you’ve ever seen him look this vulnerable before. It feels like you’re seeing the Kinich from a completely different time, one where he wasn’t the Guard Captain, one where he was all alone.

“Feeling you go limp in my arms?” he finally whispers, barely audible. “Feeling your heart slow to a stop?”

You freeze. His voice is thin, like glass—it feels like he’ll break any second. You take another step toward him, careful.

“Kinich.”

“I can’t—”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then gathers himself to face you again.

“I won’t lose you like that. Not now. Not ever.”

The prior attack seemed to have affected him more than you thought. You’d noticed it, maybe briefly, in his daily routines. More often, he seemed hesitant to leave your side. He was stricter with the guard patrols, and with your safety in general. Sometimes, you found him looking at the Capital square with a hardened gaze, perhaps remembering that day.

Then, one day, he began to avoid you completely.

His words bare the truth for you to hear: Kinich is afraid that you will die.

And it is eating him alive.

He pushes himself to his feet, taking another step to meet you in the middle.

“I exist to protect you, Princess,” he says, almost begging, a hand pressed to his chest. “That is why I am here. If I must die doing it, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

A horror creeps through your veins at his detached attitude.

“That’s what you think this is?” you ask, in disbelief. “That you’re just some sort of object for me to use? That it doesn’t matter what happens to you?”

For as long as you’ve known him, Kinich has been selfless, always placing your needs before his own. Yet, you hadn’t realized that he was never considering his own needs at all.

He looks away. “That is my duty—”

“It’s not!” 

You cup at his face, pulling him to face you. A thin, crystalline fissure cracks through your heart at his expression—he looks hopelessly, overwhelmingly lost. When a tear slips out of the corner of his eye, you nearly sob.

“You matter to me, Kinich,” you whisper, thumbing it away. “And your life is not a risk I’m willing to take.”

His mouth opens, then closes, struggling for uncertain words. You wonder if he’s ever been told this in his life—how much he’s wanted, how much he’s needed. Despite how much you complain, you know that you’ve needed him since you met him, and that won’t change anytime soon. The thought of his injury—or even worse, his death—leaves you reeling.

He clears the lump in his throat, finding himself.

“I still have to go,” he manages, quiet. His fingers curl around your wrist, rooting you there—rooting you to him.

You press your forehead to his, his bangs and headband warm against your skin. A life still pulses there, in his ribcage, and that’s all you need to know.

“I know. But don’t be reckless.”

It’s a plea. That despite the danger and the terror, he’ll think of you on the battlefield, and the promises you’ve made. That he’ll think about returning home, always.

You look up at him through your lashes, and he looks back.

“Come back to me, Kinich,” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “That’s an order.”

The sight seems to sober him—Kinich swallows before nodding firmly.

“As you wish, Princess.”

/

The next day, you meet Kinich in the castle chapel, along with the rest of the elite guards. Your mother and father sit behind you, quiet and regal on their thrones. The mood feels overwhelmingly somber.

You’ve never had to perform this rite, this blessing, for as long as you’ve lived. But then again, you’ve never experienced war to this extent. 

Kinich advances down the center of the aisle, flanked by his fellow knights—the skylight casts a gentle shine over him. You vaguely think he looks like a prince.

He’s in his ceremonial armor, glowing paint lining his cheeks and arms. A hunter green cape flutters behind him as he approaches, greatsword flashing proud over his back. You nod in acknowledgement as he falls to one knee before you.

“Malipo Kinich,” you say, voice echoing throughout the chapel. Kinich’s gaze is meaningful as he looks up at you—it reminds you of when he was first knighted so many years ago. “Go forth and bring pride and protection to our nation.”

You outstretch a hand, and he takes it—his thumb runs comfortingly across your palm, a promise.

This won’t be the last time.

He presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, eyes fluttering shut.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he murmurs, hushed. His breath is warm, pooling over your skin and running hot up your arm. It’s a message for you and you alone. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

When he rises to his feet, turning to leave, you grasp at his shoulder. The action has him flinching, glancing at you over his shoulder. Everyone in the chapel holds their breath, watchful.

You pull the ribbon from your hair, golden silk wrapping smoothly around your hand. His eyes widen. 

“Come back to me, Kinich.”

Gently, you tie it around the grip of his greatsword, just under the ridge of the one you’d given to him before. He hisses in a breath when you brush over his cheek as you withdraw your hand, before thumbing over your new gift, thoughtful.

When he looks at you again, a certain fondness sits in his stare.

“As you wish, your Highness.”

[rottiens]

A LOVELY TOUCH┊ISAGI YOICHI

✮ summary. meeting his parents and being in his room for the first time allows you to get to know another side of isagi that you hadn't discovered before.

✮ tags. (18+), established relationship, unprotected sex + creampie, fem reader, petnames, sex toys, praising (that’s my girl), spit, dirty talk. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 4.3k

Isagi's room is just as you had pictured it in your imagination. The walls are decorated with soccer posters, of some anime with rather colorful characters and of some soccer players you vaguely recognize from having seen them on your phone. The bed is impeccably made, with a navy blue bedspread that matches the two pillows perfectly lined up on top. Next to the bed, a nightstand holds a stack of comics and manga that you fail to identify until you get close enough. In front of the bed, a wall-mounted television is connected to a playstation, ready to be used.

The room, in general, is surprisingly tidy, almost too tidy to be Isagi's. The thought that he probably cleaned neatly because he knew you'd be staying over tonight brings a smile to your face. Throughout your relationship, you had always met at your place or at the hotels he stays at when you visit him out of town, so to be here, in a space that is entirely his, sends a tingle through your stomach that stirs the hunger of your curiosity.

As you flip through the monochromatic pages of one of the manga, you hear the sound of his footsteps approaching down the hallway. The floorboards groan under his weight, and your heart pounds, as if you've been caught doing something wrong. A smile spreads across your face as you see him standing in the doorframe, his silhouette blocking the light coming in from the hallway, giving him an almost cinematic air.

Isagi mimics your smile, mirroring it as he closes the door behind him and steps into the space you now share. It is at that moment that you notice the subtle scent of sandalwood wafting through the air, permeating the atmosphere. The room, completely enclosed and with thick curtains blocking the outside light, has maintained this scent throughout the day.

"What do you think, then?" asks Isagi, with a slight tension in his voice that makes you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours.

Isagi's parents turned out to be even more charming than you had imagined. His mother insisted on adding another dish to dinner, even though you had offered to cook for everyone; she even offered to help you wash the dishes, while Mr. Isagi and your boyfriend continued chatting in the dining room a few feet away.

The feeling you are left with is one of warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around you after a long winter's day. And that's what you're trying to express, albeit in a simpler, less corny way.

"…I'm happy to have finally met them," you conclude sincerely.

Isagi, who has just hung up his jacket in the closet and is now wearing only a shirt and dark sweatpants, walks up to you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. With the manga completely forgotten, your hands find rest on the back of his neck, and out of instinct, you start stroking his hair. Isagi visibly relaxes at your loving touch.

"'Yeah? I think they really liked you, I was nervous," he says, laughing softly.

"Really, you thought they wouldn't like me?" you tease as Isagi closes his eyes, enjoying your touch.

"Quite the opposite. I thought they might like you more than me," he replies, meeting your eyes again, causing a sparkle to tingle up from your belly to your ribs.

"Your mom is so nice, and your dad is so cool. I think it's adorable how they support you."

It's obvious how proud they are of their son, how far he's come. That was reflected in every topic of conversation they had tonight and in the way their eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Deep down, you're relieved to have their approval, too.

"I had no doubt they would like you. My mother loved the dessert you made too, you're cooking so much better every time."

Isagi guides you towards the bed, interrupting the conversation. He lies down first and invites you to join him with a few pats on the mattress. You crawl onto the bedspread, which stays perfectly in place despite the movement, and lie comfortably on the arm he has extended for you.

"I'm gonna stay all weekend," he says, playing with the silver "I" dangling from your neck. Your eyes instantly light up, and Isagi struggles to contain a mischievous smile that threatens to appear at the corners of his lips.

"You hadn't told me," you murmur, controlling the excitement in your voice. "I thought you had to leave tomorrow."

"'Yeah, I wanted to surprise you." His fingers fiddle with your collarbone and the line of your neck as he says it, only to finally focus his full attention on you.

He watches your reaction closely, delighted that he got this reaction in person, knowing it wouldn't be the same if he'd told you about it over the phone. Then, he leans toward you and kisses you softly on the lips, a fleeting kiss after which he doesn't pull away, allowing you to become drunk on the fresh, woody scent that surrounds him.

"We could go out tomorrow, maybe invite your parents over again and…" you start to suggest, but Isagi interrupts you with another soft kiss that instantly makes you close your eyes. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart dance against his ribs, as his palm rests on your waist.

"I'd love the idea, but right now I don't wanna do anything but hold you close."

The physical contact instantly ignites your skin, and the tone of his voice alerts your senses to what might be coming. But you're still curious to explore more of his space, so you add, "Your room…" he chuckles, probably guessing what you're going to say next. "It's very organized."

"Does that surprise you?" Not really, but the attention to detail does. Everything looks impeccable, you know he's put a lot of thought into it. "I've learned a few things about keeping my place in order with Barou."

"Oh, yeah, you guys were roommates before."

"Uh huh. He wanted to kill me when he found my shoes where they were not supposed to be, or my jacket on the couch when I got home late from training."

You laugh at the mental image of an angry Barou chasing Isagi with his shoes in hand around the apartment, though you remain aware of Isagi's touch, of how his fingers gently trace lines on the skin of your stomach, which your now somewhat disheveled top reveals.

The room is enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the fan on the ceiling. You've settled into his chest, with his heartbeat providing a steady, soothing rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. Yet your eyes roam the room with a newfound curiosity, lingering on details you had previously overlooked, as if you want to unravel a little more of what this space can reveal to you about him.

Near the door, the closet remains ajar, revealing a glimpse of its interior. The shirts are lined up with almost millimeter precision, but it's the bottom corner that captures your attention. Between a pair of worn sneakers and a backpack that has seen better days, a cardboard box with worn corners peeks out, partially hidden.

Your curiosity piqued, you sit up slightly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"What's that?" you ask quietly, pointing to the box with a slight nod of your head.

Isagi follows the direction of your gaze and sketches a shy smile, as if you've found something he'd forgotten. "Oh, that… it's just a box with some old things, souvenirs and such."

His answer is simple, but his tone piques your interest even more. You slide gently from his side, the mattress emitting a slight creak under your weight as you stand up. " Can I see it?" you ask, wariness mingling with growing curiosity.

Isagi chuckles softly, shaking his head with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Sure, but there's not much, really."

You make your way to the closet and kneel down in front of the box. You carefully pull it out, surprised by its unexpected weight. You place it on the floor in front of you and, as you lift the lid, a rush of nostalgia seems to flood the air.

Inside, you find a variety of objects: a pair of soccer tickets yellowed by time, photos of a younger Isagi alongside friends you don't recognize, and a scarf of his favorite team, still vibrant in its colors. There's a small trophy, probably from some school competition, and a keychain that looks like it was purchased on his first major trip away from home. Each object seems to be loaded with history and meaning, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that together reveal the essence of who he is now.

Your fingers stop on one photograph in particular, where a teenage Isagi smiles broadly, holding a ball with his hand raised in victory. Beside him, a childhood friend embraces him with the same energy. The happiness on his face is so genuine that you can't help but smile too.

"This is adorable," you say, holding up the photo so Isagi can see it from the bed.

He gets up and comes over to you, sitting down next to you on the floor. "That was a good time," he comments, his voice laden with nostalgia as he takes the photo from your hands to look at it more closely. "We won that match by sheer luck, but it was one of the best days of my life."

Your attention is diverted to another object in the box, a small notebook with worn edges. You delicately open it, finding inside scribbles, small drawings and notes that Isagi probably wrote when he was a teenager.

"You've kept all this for how long?" you ask, fascinated by the amount of memories he's accumulated.

"Since forever, I think," he replies, laughing lightly. "I'm not one to usually hold on to the past, but some things are worth keeping. I like to remember them from time to time."

You close the notebook and put it back in the box, feeling like you've just discovered a side of Isagi you may not have been fully aware of. As you do so, something else at the bottom of the box catches your eye. It's the thick edge of what appears to be a red book. Curiosity leads you to slide your fingers along it and pull it out for a better look. The objects on top offer resistance, but without giving up, you manage to pull it out.

"Oh," Isagi murmurs as you realize that it's not a book you've pulled out, but a stack of magazines that, under the light of the bulb, reveal their true nature.

"Yoichi?" you ask, covering your mouth with your hand to contain the laughter bubbling in your stomach while at the same time showing the magazine in his direction.

"Fuck." His cheeks flush red, and you've never seen him so nervous. Immediately, he tries to snatch them from you, wrestling you with the box in between.

"Let me see them!" you laugh, louder this time, enjoying the rare sight of seeing him so distressed.

"Stop, it's embarrassing! Don't open them!" he insists, desperate, as you try to wriggle away from him, the porn magazines now scattered around you.

In the struggle, his foot buckles and he loses his balance, falling on top of you and crushing you to the floor. Your hands are trapped above your head, imprisoned, and the magazines fall open, revealing their stained pages beside you.

" Can I explain?" he says, his voice trembling between embarrassment and nervous laughter.

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

You watch him as he struggles to find the right words, finally giving up with a sigh. "It was a gift from a friend."

"And you kept them?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Well, yes…" he mumbles.

You laugh again, not because you're judging him, but because seeing him so grief-stricken over something he tried to hide, but which is really no big deal, is adorable. It's rare to see him in this state of vulnerability, and you can't help but enjoy his discomfort a little. Your laughter grows with his fingers starting to tickle you, and your eyes fill with tears as you beg for mercy. Finally, Isagi pulls away, sitting back on his heels, victorious as the air from the fan ripples his hair.

"It's okay, check them if you want. I'll go pee, but don't touch anything else until I get back," he says, his voice tinged with faux authoritarianism.

His words only fuel your desire to explore more. You sit back down, the magazines now forgotten on the floor, as you scan the room for something else you might discover. But finding nothing that captures your attention, you momentarily give up, remembering that you probably have missed messages from your mom asking how dinner went. Your phone, deep in your pocket, had died halfway through dinner.

"Babe, where's your charger?" you yell, heading for the nightstand. You open the drawer and what you find is more than you expected. It's a treasure trove, exactly what you were looking for to piss him off even more.

"Fuck me," Isagi mutters from the doorway, his tone a clear sign of resignation.

"A fleshlight?" you exclaim, completely shocked. There's not even any intention of joking now. "I didn't think you were the type to use toys… I thought you didn't like them."

Isagi advances towards you quickly, but you hide it behind your back just in time. He stops, measuring his next steps.

"It was a joke," he explains, his voice laden with embarrassment.

"What kind of joke?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Isagi shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "The guys thought it would be funny. It was a 'joke' because… well, because I was a virgin and stuff. Now, give it to me."

Isagi takes a step forward, but you step back, finding yourself pinned against the bed.

"Did you use it?" you ask, your eyes full of genuine wonder as you try to keep your cool.

Before you can run away or have time to react, Isagi advances towards you with the speed and precision he only shows in the field. His eyes, tinged with a deep blue full of determination, bore into yours, revealing an expression you have rarely seen, a mixture of defiance and desire. Effortlessly, he manages to lay you down on the mattress, his weight taking you prisoner as he reaches for the object hidden behind your back. He teases you again with tickling, and new tears of laughter form in your eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I give up! But first…" you say with a chuckle, noticing how he raises an eyebrow tentatively, as he pulls away and is completely seated on top of you, you notice small beads of sweat forming a crown on his forehead. "I need to know if you've used it."

Isagi licks his upper lip, his heart beating rapidly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, but there's something uncomfortably intimate about admitting it in front of you, as if crossing an invisible line.

"Yes," he replies simply, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thinking about me?"

The room is plunged into a thick, tension-laden silence. Isagi looks at you, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face.

"Yes," he confesses, his words full of honesty. You lick your lips, struggling to keep your breathing under control.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, your voice low, barely audible in the charged atmosphere of the room.

Isagi takes a moment before answering, his eyes scanning yours for any clues. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his face close to yours, and in a barely audible whisper, he answers you.

"I was thinking about you… riding me, then me fucking you sideways, toying with your clit. Fuck, I remember it so clearly," he says, his voice deeper, charged with a mixture of desire and vulnerability you've never heard before.

The confession leaves a shiver running across your skin, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. His words, so simple yet so loaded with meaning, make you feel a mix of emotions. All you can do is look at him, contemplate this man who has somehow become so essential to you, so intimately tied to your life that imagining a future without him seems impossible.

"I want to see you use it…" you whisper, your words full of desire, stripped of any trace of teasing. The question hangs in the air, waiting for his answer.

Isagi takes a shaky breath, and you can feel his hips push against your abdomen, letting you know exactly what he thinks about the idea. The tip of his nose brushes against yours in an intimate gesture, but then he stops, reluctantly pulling away.

"Okay…" he sighs with resignation. Though you lick your suddenly dry lips now, and silently moan at the loss of his warmth when he pulls away, your skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Before you, your boyfriend peels off his shirt in one fluid motion, dropping it carelessly to the side. The sight of his naked torso, bathed in the soft light of the room, makes your heart pound, building anticipation and tension in the air.

"Do you have any lube?" you ask, your tone anxious, straining to keep your eyes fixed on his and not on the noticeably tight bulge under his boxers as he finally strips out of his pants.

Isagi gives a slight nod of his head, gesturing towards the bedside table. "If you'd looked a little harder, you would have found it right next to that… thing."

A smile tugs at your lips as you hear him refer to the toy that way, reminding you that, while he's not completely comfortable with the idea, he's willing to experience something new just because you've asked him to. Quickly, you lean over to the nightstand, pushing aside the charger and other items, until your fingers find the bottle of lubricant. You take it and return to bed with excitement pulsing through your veins.

Your legs are folded and wedged between his thighs. You watch anxiously as he holds himself with his hands on the mattress, his back slightly arched back. The sight of the tangle of hair peeking over the edge of his boxers distracts you for a moment, intensifying the desire growing between you both.

"Take it out," you ask, flashlight in one hand, lube in the other.

"You take it out, I thought it was you who wanted to play."

The response makes you bite your tongue, so he was going to make you work for it, you conclude. Good. You set the objects aside and ask him to lift his ass up so you can fully pull his boxers out of him, his free cock bouncing gently on the spot. He was completely hard and you want to tease him about it, comment to him that if he doesn't like the idea so much why is he so hard, but you know he's been thinking about it probably before dinner and that, if he were to toss your panties aside he'd realize you were just as needy so you let it go for now. Just for your own good.

It throbs as you feel your determined hand approach with the bottle of lubricant. You drop a generous amount at the tip, watching as it slowly slides to the base, its viscous texture catching the dim light of the room. Deftly, you reach for the liquid just before it touches the mattress, catching it with your fingers in a precise gesture.

Isagi shudders under your touch, a tremor running through his body more from the warmth of your touch than the coldness of the lubricant. The sticky sound of your hand sliding up and down now accompanies the soft murmur of the fan, creating an intimate symphony that fills the space you share.

You stroke him just a little before taking the toy, Isagi grunts as you press it to the tip, he thrusts his hips up to receive you when you finally slide it down disappearing his cock completely. You dare to give it a few pumps, taking note of every reaction.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," he replies with his eyelids half drooping and his jaw clenched.

Tentatively you give another deep thrust, the lewd sound of the toy filling the room with its wet, provocative echo. Then, you pull it out completely, and you can't help but watch as his cock drips pre-cum mixed with the lube, creating a tantalizing gloss on the tip. Isagi moans at the lack of attention, his voice laden with need, but it doesn't take you long to re-wrap his cock with the plastic, resuming a rhythm you know he loves.

"You're doing such a good job…" you murmur, fascinated as you watch him lose himself more in the moment, clearly surrendered to the pleasure you're giving him.

You liked it, you must confess. The power it makes you feel to see him like this, it was just like when you were masturbating him, he could reason, but for some reason there's something different about using a toy in between, the whole new scenario has you in a thick cloud of frenzy, your movements speeding up, determined to make him cum. His brow furrows, his lips part.

"Yes? Do you like being in control?" asks Isagi, his voice husky with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You just mumble something inaudible, caught between the intensity of the moment and the proximity of his body. Before you can add anything else, however, Isagi rises, his movements fluid and confident. His hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he draws you closer, his lips only inches from yours, like a promise of an approaching kiss. "You like fucking me?"

"Yeah… fuck, I wanna watch you cum."

"Do it. Fuck me harder, cmon. Use me."

With both hands on your cheeks, he traps you in an intimate kiss, a heady mix of lust and love. His lips move urgently over yours, his tongue tangling in yours as his teeth gently punish your lower lip. Isagi's moans grow louder, each one charged with desire, as he inevitably nears climax.

"I'm not cumming…" he growls. "Not anywhere else but in your pussy."

Before you can react, Isagi takes your hand firmly, pushing the fleshlight aside. With a fluidity in his movements, he gently lays you down against the bed, his body pressing against yours. One hand rests on your neck, the touch warm and reassuring, while the other descends to your clit, caressing it in slow, long circles. The air becomes thick with anticipation and desire, each brush igniting your senses and leaving you breathless.

"No more games." The determination on his face is exhilarating, it has you throbbing and clenching around his fingers stretching you.

In a moment, Isagi gets rid of your bottoms and underwear and spits on his hand to wrap his cock with saliva, his hips exerting weight on your thighs open you wider for him and then you feel the tip part the walls of your pussy, your mouth opens slightly.

"There's nothing like this pussy."

Then, with one precise movement, Isagi slides inside you, so deep it takes your breath away for an instant. The sensation fills you completely, eliciting a choked moan in your throat. He doesn't move fast, but begins to roll his hips, creating a friction that makes you shudder. At the same time, his fingers continue to torture your clit in slow, deliberate circles, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch your back, letting the moment consume you completely.

"I'm almost there… but I need you to cum with me," he gasps.

You can only nod in desperation, begging him wordlessly to keep up the pace. But, without warning, Isagi pulls out, wrenching a frustrated moan from you before you can protest. With almost ruthless precision, he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock, drawing an unexpected cry of pleasure from you. Then he lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder in a new position that allows him to go even deeper. Without further warning, he begins to thrust hard into you, the rhythm now brutal, as if he is determined to bring you to the edge of your orgasm. Each thrust is a promise broken and fulfilled at the same time, a movement that seeks both his release and yours, as you feel yourself collapse in shared ecstasy.

"There's nothing like this fucking pussy," Isagi murmurs between clenched teeth, his voice laden with desire as his lips land on your heel with a sweetness so intense it leaves you breathless. The contradiction between the brutality of his thrusts and the tenderness of his gesture makes you feel dizzy. "Lets cum together, baby."

His words sound like a request, but his raw passion, along with the strokes that spread throughout your body, feel like a command you can't refuse, even if you wanted to. Your back arches, and an electric current runs down your spine, tangling in your insides and exploding in an explosion of colors like fireworks. A few thrusts later, Isagi is chasing you, cumming inside you as he showers you with praise and how good you always are to him.

"That's my girl, there you go," he says sweetly as he kisses your throat, moves up to your jaw and concludes on your lips with tiny kisses that he scatters all over your face, tickling you.

"Stop!" you laugh as he gently bites your cheek for the sole purpose of teasing you.

"Don't run away from my kisses, c'mere!" Isagi squeezes you against his arms, from which you can't escape, as he continues to shower you with kisses and nibble you gently in every corner he can reach with his teeth. He doesn't stop until you surrender in his arms and kiss him back as you tousle the sweaty strands of his hair.

"Let's take a shower and go to sleep," you murmur sleepily. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, let's do that," he says, giving you one last kiss on the lips as he squeezes your cheeks.

"Maybe we can use the toy aga—"

"Don't even think about it."

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - A Dance of Ambition

Summary - A fierce young woman meets a brooding Targaryen prince who defies expectations. As tension crackles between them—both verbal and unspoken—she discovers they may be more alike than she thought.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x Harroway reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2600

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

My father's voice was soft as I ran the brush through my hair. "Please, be kind. He's a prince... a Targaryen prince, to be precise."

I set the brush down, smoothing the fabric of my dress as I turned to face him. "That means nothing to me," I replied, adjusting the neckline with a flick of my wrist.

"Please, my love. Just this once, try not to be so... brash," he murmured, almost swallowing his words, and I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from my chest.

"Father, you speak as if I have no manners at all," I said with a teasing smile, watching the weariness deepen the lines on his face as he sighed.

"You know what I mean," he relented, his shoulders slumping. I exhaled, stepping closer to wrap my arms around his neck.

"Do not worry, I will be on my best behaviour," I assured him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I glanced at my reflection one more time, the smirk already forming on my lips.

"And that's exactly what worries me," he muttered under his breath, leaving the room without another word.

Since my mother's passing, my father had treated me as though I were his entire world. I was his only child, and in the wake of losing his great love, he never remarried.

I had become a living reminder of the woman he adored, a memory he clung to, coddling me like a fragile thing.

People whispered behind our backs, blaming him for my haughty behaviour, for my sharp tongue and indifference to the opinions of others. But their gossip didn't bother me.

I knew how deeply he loved me, and I wore that truth like armour.

This meeting with the prince—this potential match—was one of the few prospects my father deemed worthy of his precious daughter.

If he had gone to such lengths to arrange it, the least I could do was ensure that the prince, and his family, were as perfect as they claimed.

The grand hall of the Keep was as intimidating as I'd imagined. Its vaulted ceilings and towering columns stretched endlessly, and the air was thick with the weight of history and power.

My father walked beside me, his arm linked with mine as if to steady me, though we both knew it was his nerves that needed calming.

His grip tightened slightly as we neared the dais, where Prince Aemond awaited us, his figure tall and composed in black and silver.

"Remember, be courteous," my father whispered, though his voice trembled slightly. "Please."

I offered him a brief smile, more for his benefit than anything else. "Of course, Father. Always."

Aemond stood with the poise of a warrior and the air of royalty, his lone eye fixed upon me with an intensity that sent a thrill through the room. His other eye, hidden beneath a leather patch, gave him an ominous air, one that might have unsettled others.

But I had never been easily cowed.

Beside him, Queen Alicent watched carefully, her expression unreadable, while King Viserys, though weakened by age and illness, managed a welcoming smile.

"Lord Harroway," the king greeted my father warmly. "And this must be your daughter."

"Yes, Your Grace," my father replied, bowing low. "My daughter, Lady—"

I stepped forward before my father could finish, interrupting him without a second thought.

"I am Lady Harroway," I said, my voice cool and clear. I curtsied, but only just enough to avoid outright insult. I did not lower my head. "It is an honour, Your Grace."

My father tensed beside me, but I ignored the faint hiss of his breath.

The Queen exchanged a quick glance with Aemond, whose face remained impassive, though his eye did flicker with the slightest hint of interest.

His lips curled ever so faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. Something unreadable.

"We are pleased to meet you, Lady Harroway," Aemond said at last, his voice smooth but carrying a weight that demanded attention.

"And I, you, Prince Aemond," I replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.

His eye gleamed like polished amethyst in the firelight, and I wondered how many lords and ladies had been made uneasy by that stare. I would not be one of them.

"Though I must admit, I was under the impression that princes of royal blood had more important matters than to be paraded before potential brides."

My father nearly choked. "My love—"

But Aemond raised a hand, silencing him without a word. "Perhaps," he said, stepping closer, his tone as unshaken as his expression.

"But sometimes, even a prince must take note of what is placed before him. Whether it is worth his time is another matter entirely."

I smirked, tilting my head slightly, meeting his challenge without hesitation.

"Well, I do hope I prove worthy of such precious time. Though, I must say, the decision lies as much with me as with you, my prince."

Aemond's lips quirked again, and for a moment, I thought I saw something like amusement flash behind his gaze.

He took a step toward me, close enough that I could feel the sheer force of his presence. His silence was deliberate, and I knew he was testing me.

Waiting for me to falter.

But I held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Indeed, it does," Aemond finally said, his voice low, his eye still locked on mine. "And what is your impression, Lady Harroway?"

"I have yet to be impressed, Prince Aemond," I said, though I couldn't quite suppress the mischievous edge to my tone. "But I'm certain you'll do your best."

The Queen shifted slightly in her seat, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face, while my father's knuckles turned white from how tightly he gripped the hilt of his cane.

I could feel his anxiety radiating off him, but I didn't care. I was too absorbed in the game being played.

My father had spent years building this fragile bridge between our house and the Targaryens, and here I was, dangling it over the edge.

Yet, for all his efforts, for all the whispered warnings, I couldn't help but wonder if I was destined for something more than the life they envisioned for me.

Aemond's expression didn't change, but his eye gleamed with an unmistakable spark.

"It seems I have my work cut out for me," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly. "I look forward to the challenge."

"I'm sure you do," I replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

My father finally spoke, his voice strained as he tried to smooth over what he clearly feared was a disastrous first impression.

"Your Grace, my daughter... she means no offence. She is simply... spirited."

The Queen's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flicking toward her son as if trying to gauge his reaction. But Aemond's attention never wavered from me.

"No offence taken, Lord Harroway," he said smoothly. "I appreciate honesty. It is rare to find."

I arched an eyebrow, a little taken aback by his words but intrigued nonetheless. He was calm, far too calm for a prince who had just been openly challenged.

Most men would have been insulted or, at the very least, unnerved. But Aemond seemed... entertained.

"Honesty is a luxury some cannot afford," I said, testing the waters further. "But I've never been one to spare words for the sake of pleasing others."

Aemond's gaze sharpened. "Good. The world has enough liars."

For a moment, the air between us seemed to crackle with something unspoken, something that neither of us was willing to break first.

It was as if we were locked in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to make a move.

Finally, the Queen spoke, her voice cool but polite. "Lady Harroway, we hope you will find your time at court... enjoyable."

I smiled sweetly, though my words were edged with sarcasm. "I'm sure it will be most illuminating, Your Grace."

As we took our leave, my father's face was pale with barely suppressed anxiety.

The moment we were out of earshot, he let out a low groan. "What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?"

I glanced at him, still feeling the strange, electric sensation from my exchange with Aemond.

"I was thinking, Father, that perhaps a Targaryen prince isn't as infallible as you've made him out to be."

"You're going to ruin this," he muttered, running a hand through his greying hair. "The Queen was glaring at you—did you not see?"

"Oh, I saw," I said, unable to hide the smug smile that crept across my face. "But did you see Prince Aemond? He wasn't angry, Father. He was intrigued."

"And that," my father sighed, "is what worries me most."

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The night air in King's Landing was cool, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had lingered throughout the day.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the city, its quiet streets almost peaceful beneath the faint rustle of leaves and distant waves crashing against the shore.

I had never been one to stay confined for long, and tonight, the pull to escape the suffocating confines of the Keep had been too strong to resist.

I slipped out of my chambers with ease, the well-practised steps of stealth learned from years of dodging watchful eyes at my father's estate.

Wearing a simple dark cloak over my gown, I moved swiftly through the corridors, careful to avoid the guards who patrolled the castle.

The thrill of sneaking out, of defying expectations, made my pulse quicken.

My father would be furious if he knew, but that only made it all the more exhilarating.

The city below the Keep was alive in a way the castle could never be. While most of the nobles slept, commoners carried on their business, laughter and music spilling from taverns as the late-night revellers enjoyed their freedom.

But I wasn't interested in mingling with the crowds.

No, I wanted something more, something uncharted. The narrow alleys and hidden corners of King's Landing called to me, promising adventure.

As I wandered further into the maze of streets, my steps light and unhurried, I couldn't help but marvel at how different the city felt at night.

The oppressive weight of the court and its rigid rules seemed to lift, leaving behind a strange sense of liberation.

I had just turned into a quiet courtyard, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across the cobblestones, when I sensed someone watching me.

My hand instinctively went to the small dagger I kept hidden beneath my cloak, a precaution that had become second nature.

"You know," came a voice, low and smooth from the darkness, "you really shouldn't be out here all alone."

I turned sharply, but I wasn't startled. I knew that voice.

Stepping from the shadows, Aemond emerged, his silver hair catching the moonlight, his lone eye gleaming with a hint of amusement.

He was dressed far more casually than I'd ever seen him—no heavy armour, no regal attire—just simple black leathers that clung to his form, emphasizing the quiet strength he carried so effortlessly.

My pulse quickened, but not from fear.

"I could say the same to you, Prince Aemond," I replied coolly, though a smile tugged at my lips. "Surely a Targaryen prince has more pressing matters than lurking in alleyways."

Aemond's eye flickered with amusement, though his face remained stoic as ever. "Lurking? Hardly. I was merely taking in the night air when I spotted something curious."

"Oh? And what curiosity might that be?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

His gaze lingered on me, the intensity of his stare making the air between us crackle with tension.

"A lady of your standing, sneaking through the city in the dead of night. Unchaperoned. One might think you were up to something."

I stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated by the sharpness of his gaze. "And if I were? What would you do, Prince Aemond? Drag me back to the Keep? Lecture me on proper behaviour?"

He smiled then, just barely, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that was both infuriating and intriguing. "Oh, I doubt anything I say would influence you in the slightest, Lady Harroway."

"You'd be right," I quipped, folding my arms and leaning against the stone wall behind me. "I've never been one for lectures."

He took a step closer, his boots clicking softly against the cobblestones, his eye never leaving mine.

"Then tell me," he said, his voice low, "what is it that brings you out here, sneaking through the city like some common thief?"

I shrugged, unbothered by his scrutiny. "Curiosity, I suppose. Or perhaps boredom. The walls of the Keep are far too stifling for my liking."

"You find the court dull?" he asked, his tone mildly teasing.

I smirked. "I find the people tiresome. Everyone so careful, so poised, afraid to speak their mind. It's all rather exhausting."

"Careful," Aemond said softly, his voice almost a purr. "If you speak too openly, someone might take offence."

I tilted my head, meeting his challenge head-on. "Let them. I've never been afraid of speaking the truth."

Aemond's eye darkened with something unreadable, but there was no anger, no offence taken. Instead, he seemed almost... pleased.

"You're an intriguing one, Lady Harroway," he murmured, his tone more thoughtful now. "Most women at court would go to great lengths to charm me, to flatter and appease."

"Well," I said simply, my chin lifting slightly. "I've never been one for flattery."

He chuckled, a low, almost dangerous sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "That much is clear. You don't bend, do you?"

"Not for anyone," I replied, my voice steady despite the strange tension simmering between us.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching out as we stood there, mere paces apart, locked in a silent battle of wills. His gaze held mine, searching, testing, and I refused to look away.

I could feel the weight of his presence, the sharpness of his mind behind that calculating eye. He was not a man easily impressed, nor was he one to back down from a challenge.

But I wasn't either.

Finally, he stepped back, though his gaze never wavered. "You are a rarity, Lady Harroway."

"I prefer the term 'unique,'" I said, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgement. "Unique, then."

There was a pause, a strange sense of understanding passing between us in the quiet of the night.

We were two people who didn't fit the mould, who defied expectations in a world that demanded conformity. And in that moment, I sensed that Aemond understood that better than most.

"Will you return to the Keep?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I exhaled, my earlier defiance softening just a fraction. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll wander a bit longer. The city has more to offer than courtly banter."

Aemond's lips quirked again, a rare hint of a smile. "I suspect it does."

We stood there for a moment longer, neither of us quite willing to be the first to leave. There was something unspoken between us, something simmering beneath the surface.

But neither of us would acknowledge it. Not yet.

Finally, Aemond broke the silence. "Until we meet again, Lady Harroway," he said, his tone formal but laced with something else—something deeper.

I smirked, my eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Oh, I'm sure we will, Prince Aemond."

With that, I turned, disappearing into the shadows of the city streets, the thrill of our exchange still buzzing in my veins.

I could feel his gaze on me as I walked away, a smile playing at my lips. He hadn't rattled me. In fact, I had the distinct feeling I had rattled him.

And that, I thought with satisfaction, was a victory in itself.

A/n - I gotta start writing some quiet reserved characters as well tbh 😭

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy @veesuguru

[kumkaniudaku]

Oral Assessment

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST

When Asia set out on a journey of sexual discovery, the details of the how got lost in the time spent with the who. 

Being with Kelvin was the easy part. He was patient and kind, with a sense of humor that could trick the Pope into following him into a bar for a drink and conversation. Asia had no problem listening to him rant when he called to confirm plans or just to pick with her in his spare time. Of all her rash decisions, allowing him to usher her into a new phase of life felt the most natural. 

The most daunting task was standing in front of Kelvin while she debated whether to disrobe with another human in the room. She felt frozen as she stared into the full-length mirror opposite her bed. The reflection caught Kelvin's undivided attention, bathing her with an intense yet playful curiosity in anticipation of clothes hitting the floor piece by piece. 

He lay with one leg propped and the other stretched long, showcasing lean limbs under the outside clothes Asia complained about the moment he plopped his body on her bedsheets. He told her to calm down, not knowing that no amount of alcohol or centering breaths could break the stronghold fear had on her throat and lungs. She'd tried them both, only to be let down the second she opened her front door to hurriedly usher him inside.

Loosening up felt all but impossible. Asia could smell the woody mix of something she probably couldn't afford wafting off Kelvin's clean skin. At least it was a pleasant consolation prize for his insistence on committing her biggest pet peeve in only his second visit to her home. Asia knew she'd be smelling his lingering aroma long after he vanished into the city streets like an imaginary friend that she always talked about but could never prove really existed. A fresh haircut and groomed facial hair highlighted near-perfect features on a blemish-free face. Though he'd mentioned he had plans when they were done, she couldn't help but feed into the delusion that him being so gussied up was just for her. 

She chewed the side of her cheek in a desperate attempt to squash the nerves, tingling every nerve ending from her head to her toes.

"You act like you're afraid of your own body." Kelvin's accusatory observation cut through the tense air, making Asia jump from the sudden noise. He chuckled with a boyish grin, turning the corners of his lips upward and lifting his hand in faux surrender. "My bad. Just tryin' to break the ice since you been standing there for, like, five minutes doing nothing. We can always skip this one and go get drinks or something. It's cool." 

Asia rushed to clean up the mess she'd made in the thick of awkward contemplation." No," she blurted, trying to save face. "I'm gonna do it. I promise." 

She was going to get undressed eventually. She'd practiced on Facetime with Sabrina the moment Kelvin texted his plan for the weekend. She skipped over every line about wanting her to practice confidence in the bedroom to hyper-focus on the word 'naked,' then typed a wordy mini novel to her designated hoe friend, searching for a pre-game opportunity to work out the jitters. What she accomplished with Sabrina was long out of the window and somewhere inside, a girl who knew exactly what she wanted when a fine man was in the room. 

"I'm not afraid of seeing myself naked," she answered in a rush of air. "I love my body. It's other people seeing it that I'm afraid of."

A too honest truth. From the moment a boy in her third-grade class made her aware of her budding breasts that stuck out as odd in a sea of pre-pubescent girls, Asia became forced to reckon with the notion that other people had opinions about the way she looked and weren't shy about sharing them despite her discomfort. Her mother did her best to encourage her rapidly developing only child, but kids were brutal. And when they stopped being brutal during her freshman year of high school, they moved on to being too handsy and downright disgusting. 

The last time she undressed in front of a man, he spent the immediate seconds after she pulled off her beat-up Boycott Beyoncé t-shirt, pointing out how the abs she had when they met at a spring break pool party had disappeared after dinner. If she could've evaporated into a plum of smoke and made her escape through his hotel room's air vents, she would've done so without a second thought.

Kelvin took in her earnest admission with an understanding head nod. "I feel you. I took off my shirt at a bar in undergrad on some drunk shit, and the DJ yelled, 'Aye, who let the nigga with the concave chest get lit!' Kept my clothes on for two semesters after that." 

"I want you to know I'm laughing with you right now. Just a small chuckle. Barely a giggle, really."

"Yeah, alright," he volleyed back at her, all of his teeth on display in an alluring smile before joining her in the laugh she couldn't contain. "Look, if you're not ready, I mean it when I say we can do something else. But, you're gonna have to get undressed eventually. It's kinda the whole basis of sex." 

Asia scoffed. "You tellin' me you get naked every time you have sex. You're lying!"

"Socks off, girl. I'm not fuckin' around. You can't half-ass nothing. Gotta do it with your whole ass!" Kelvin's ability to joke in the face of serious matters infused the levity Asia had been trying to drum up since he stepped into her apartment. He watched her perm-rodded coils swing as she turned back to the mirror to examine her body again. Despite the sweet laughter that made her light up like a Christmas tree, trepidation had her tugging at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Kelvin carefully slid to the edge of the bed and reached for Asia's hand. "Would it help if I did it with you?"

She looked at him through the mirror, studying his expression for signs of deceit before tilting her head as if asking her question before she could get it out. "Would you do that for real?" 

"If it made you feel more comfortable. Plus, I had a crazy chest session, and somebody has to see these gains." 

"That bar situation really stuck with you, huh?" 

"I'll never get caught lackin' again." They shared another laugh that soon tapered off into comfortable silence. Kelvin pulled Asia's fingers to his lips for a quick kiss that turned up the heat in the room more than any thermostat ever could. He looked up at her with deep pools of decadent dark chocolate he called irises. "You start, I follow," he spoke against her knuckles. "We go at your pace." 

Asia didn't give herself much time to weasel her way out of facing her discomfort head-on. She silently slipped her hand from his loose grip to grab her top from the bottom and pull over her head.

She felt lucky to be wearing a bra that hid the immediate hardening of her nipples once Kelvin stood up to mirror her fluid motion and remove his own shirt. Chest day had done him a world of good and then added more for good measure. Who knew he had all of that working for him underneath unseasonably thick hoodies and band t-shirts?  

Her ogling didn't go unnoticed, earning a smile from Kelvin with his bottom lip tucked beneath a row of pearly whites. A short glance at her bottom half convinced Asia to slowly step out of her leggings and leave space for him to peel off dark denim, never breaking eye contact with the woman dominating his thoughts for the better part of seven days. 

She shimmied out of her bra with his help to undo the tricky metal clasp, and he pantomimed doing the same to pull a laugh out of her before he took a seat at the edge of the bed. Kelvin pointed at the black boyshorts barely covering her behind and searched her eyes for permission. "Can I take these off for you?" 

Asia didn't answer with the words she was convinced sounded sexy as she rehearsed them in her mind. Instead, she gave him the green light with a whispered "yes" on her lips. 

Kelvin hooked his fingers at the waistband of her panties and gave them a sure pull to slide them down thick thighs and muscular calves until they pooled at her feet for her to kick into the pile with all of their discarded apparel. 

"You don't wanna finish," Asia questioned, the coiling of doubt in her belly convincing her that something about her caused him to stop short. 

He shook his head and dragged his fingertips along her hips, transfixed by the seemingly neverending expanse of beautifully dark skin. "Tonight is about you. I'll have opportunities." Soft, deliberate touches preceding butterfly kisses across her stomach sent goosebumps to crowd each spot lucky enough to receive his affection. He paused his exploration to look up at her with his lips hovering above her navel. "Not so bad, huh?" 

"Mm-mm," she forced out, too focused on soft lips kissing hot skin. Anticipation made her breathing shallow and her thoughts cloudy. Kelvin and every intentional squeeze, kiss, and nibble slowly chipped away at residual apprehension.

"Your body is beautiful." His compliments sounded like poems in flowery Shakespearean language written for her ears alone. He continued his praise after a kiss on her hip. "It's not enough for you to hear it, though. You gotta know how beautiful you are. Know it like you know your name."

Shit. What is my name? Asia thought to herself as Kelvin looked up at her expectantly. "Asia," she spoke as if he'd asked her to confirm what her mother named her 30 years ago. She blinked and shook her head from side to side to clear up unprecedented brain fog. "That's my name. And my body is beautiful."

He smirked up at her just as his slender fingers made acquaintance with the cuff of her ass. "What makes your body feel beautiful?" 

Squatting her body weight for the first time initially came to mind. Then the fleeting thought of her favorite pair of jeans that made her rear sit up like Tracee Ellis Ross's ass when she was Joan in Girlfriends. Asia took a meandering stroll through a collection of memories and scenarios until she landed on the one constant that could get her closer to the promised land. 

"Touching…myself." The admission induced a glimmer of bubbling interest in Kelvin's eyes, silently urging Asia to say more. "When I was in high school, an issue of Cosmo that I read at the hair salon when my mom wasn't looking said to try doing it in the mirror to feel sexy. So, I waited until she went to work one Saturday, and I tried it…" 

Her words trailed, leaving room for Kelvin to nudge her toward filling the gaps. "Did it work?" 

"When I finally got the courage to do it in college, yeah," she shared after a small huff of a laugh. "It's the first time I felt like I had power over my pleasure. If no one else was gonna make me feel good, I knew I could."

"Would that make you feel beautiful right now?" 

It'd certainly make her feel something. Beautiful. Electrified. Satiated. Nasty in all the right ways. All of those things wrapped up into a ball of inescapable pleasure that she was almost too afraid to touch with a ten-foot poll.

Almost.

Kelvin waited for Asia to answer with bated breath, hoping he hadn't overstepped or pushed her too far out of her comfort zone. The last thing he wanted was to squander the trust he worked to build because he couldn't keep his carnal nature in check.

His I'm sorry ran headfirst into her, I think it would, creating a harsh cacophony of overlapping sentiments that made them both giggle like school kids flirting in the back of the classroom. 

Flattening his palms on her back to inch her just a little closer, Kelvin's short chuckle came through as a low rumble. Asia noticed how his face softened when he gazed up at her with his chin pressed into her abdomen. Care? Admiration? Mutual desire? Likely none of those, but she allowed herself to dream while Kelvin attempted to get to the bottom of her desires. "What do you want?" An open-mouth kiss felt like a livewire across Asia's skin, stealing the ability to think and robbing her of words to answer such a simple question. 

Arousal, the full range of throbbing, aching, and craving, blossomed in her belly with every peck above the freshly shaved skin covering her pubic bone. She anchored her hands on his shoulders and gripped just enough to keep her upright when her knees tried to betray her and turn into jelly.

"I want to…try," she finally breathed out, the words almost a whisper that she felt compelled to repeat. "I want to try with you. Right now." 

When Asia decided to embark on a journey of sexual discovery, he hadn't envisioned a world where she'd be under the unwavering supervision of her goofy coworker while she slowly coaxed herself to completion. 

This was too taboo, too private, and dirty to share with another person. She wasn't supposed to be gathering slick arousal on the tips of her fingers and using it to lubricate languid revolutions around her pearl and letting Kelvin kiss a trail from her shoulder to her ear and back. Under no circumstances was she supposed to grind her hips with her eyes slammed shut to focus on the task she'd done alone so many times before. And she damn sure wasn't supposed to be suppressing airy gasps and quiet curses as the rewards of self-pleasure slowly approached. 

"Why you hidin' that pretty voice from me?" Kelvin's question came in a low rumble from lips freshly moistened by an eager tongue looking for a job to do. He pressed his chest against her arm while she worked her wrist and fingers against the spot where all her nerve endings seemed to converge for an orgasm festival she didn't know would overflowing with partygoers. 

He walked his fingers up Asia's inner thigh and smirked against her neck. "Let me hear something." 

A shallow breath helped her force out a quiet expletive. "Fuuuuck."

"You can do better than that," he teased, a slow grin crinkling the thin skin at the corners of his bright eyes. "Try again." The insistent nudge of his nose against her jaw urged her to take another crack at adding audio to the graphic mixture of senses. 

He could see her lower lips and pearl glistening with beautiful arousal, feel her skin growing warmer beneath his hands, and could almost smell the mouth-watering aroma of her pussy if he focused hard enough. But he wanted to hear her. He needed to get an earful of her crying out in ecstasy for her sake and his. Having the memory stored deep in the grooves of his constantly racing mind to use when he had a moment alone was almost as important as helping her find the courage to embrace the sexiness she already possessed. 

Asia's body buzzed in a shudder just as her mouth dropped open and her lower back arched off the bed. "Oh…fuck!" Another outburst came forth before she could stop it. "Shit." Abandoning its job to keep her lower lips parted for easier access, Asia's left hand crept up her body to pull and pinch at her nipple. But it wasn't enough. For the first time, she needed the touch of another to get the job done. What a colossal mismanagement of resources would it be if she didn't put her instructor to work? "Can you touch me? Please?" 

Kelvin hoped he didn't appear too eager when he jumped at the chance to cup his hand beneath the curve of her breast, squeezing slightly as his thumb rubbed against the hardened brown tips standing straight for his attention, leaving her left hand to busy itself with clinging to his bicep. 

She moaned from the sensation, and he hummed back in satisfaction before dipping his head to kiss a spot above his thumb. That voice. He'd miss it long after they were done with their little experiment. And after he was done missing the way filthy profanities cascaded from her lips like love songs, he'd move on to missing the vision of her legs spreading to offer him a better viewing angle. 

He spoke into her ear like he was sharing a secret in a room full of people. "I'm givin' you what you need? Check in with me." 

The absence of a coherent answer gave an idle mind time to roam – time to play with things it had only imagined in private up to this point.

Kelvin waited for her to catch a breath while he focused on the slow descent of clear saliva on its way to her areola. He watched it leave a wet trail down the swell of her tit, acting as a way finder to her nipples and found a disgusting joy in seeing a part of him coating her body. 

They groaned in tandem when he went to clean up his mess with a swirl and flick of his tongue. For a moment, Asia took a break from her self-exploration to palm the back of Kelvin's head and keep him latched for a few moments longer. 

"Damn, baby," she moaned, unaware of the slip of her tongue and the fire she'd lit inside of him. 

Her praises came in the kind of hazy, nearly incomprehensible slurry reserved for folks known to drown the troubles of yesterday, today, and tomorrow in a bottle of their preferred liver-wilting potion. To anyone listening, she sounded like she could use an Advil and a water bottle for hydration. But to Kelvin, her repetitive calls for him to suckle harder were nothing short of a concert crowd begging for an encore.

A covert shift in his position allowed him to pin her thigh beneath his before his hands took a deep sea dive between her thighs with only one mission in mind. Feeling her writhing beneath him while a guttural moan ripped through her throat from his digits taking the lead between her lower lips made him grin with her nipple still in his mouth.

Het body felt set ablaze, dipped in a fiery lake of passion and wanton desire that couldn't fully be quenched with hands-on contact. Asia needed to be touched from the inside and rutted into until her toes touched the soles of her feet. This moment of moderate pressure and intentional rubbing would have to do. 

Kelvin found himself so lost in feeling Asia being worked to the edge and pulled back over and over that he didn't catch her free hand sneaking toward his crotch to tend to what she knew had to be a painful strain against black cotton. 

His eyelids fluttered closed of their own volition, sparking uneven breathing, and his muscles seized from the unexpected touch. "You know what you doing?" he asked, half hoping Asia would abandon his lesson in confidence and take a step back.  

"I'll learn." 

Kelvin reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the show between her legs in time to catch her looking back at him like he was fresh water in a vast desert. Hungry. Like a lioness scouting the vast Savannah for the pride's next meal. 

Part of him wanted to tell her they'd work on those skills during their next time together. That part stayed quiet as she dipped her hand past the Calvin Klein etched into his waistband, past the thick hair curling at his pubic area, and, finally, to the appendage standing proud to greet its new best friend. 

His body grew rigid, then relaxed under her careful, exploratory touch. Handjobs, in his opinion, were childish relics from high school movie dates meant to remain nostalgic in the way that he would never return to the skinny jeans of his youth. Cool for the moment, but he'd evolved as one does when the age. This was something else entirely. Or maybe it wasn't, and the deed that he thought he was too old to desire and enjoy only needed the introduction of someone who didn't carry the baggage of how sex was supposed to go. 

Together, they worked each other into a frenzy with arms crossing invisible borders and residing down south with intentions of a photo finish. When Kelvin moaned a hoarse indicator that she knew what she was doing, Asia met him with a sound that matched his in perfect harmony. Her hands worked his shaft with little instruction while he pumped two fingers in and out of her dripping heat.

Every once in a while, he'd groan a directive like, "Slow down. Yeah, like that. Just like that." she'd mumble that she understood before following instructions like his star pupil.

Soon, Kelvin found himself more exposed than he had planned, and at the brink of a release he was saving for the quiet sanctuary of his shower. He had to stop her before he introduced her to more than she was ready to handle. 

His fingers slowed to a creep, drawing a whimper and involuntary clench from Asia as she focused on gliding her hands slowly up and down his member. "I wanna taste you. Can I?"

"What?" she questioned, not sure she heard him correctly. "I mean, yes, but I've never really…done that before." 

He kissed her cheek and lips to quell bubbling fear. "That's okay. Let me show you." Trepidation in her eyes prompted a slow, searching kiss to further calm surging nerves. Kelvin reaffirmed his commitment to her safety against her lips. "I got it. Enjoy this." 

"Can I kiss you here?" was Kelvin's first question, mumbled against Asia's inner thigh while he positioned his head between her legs. Every peck, lick, and graze of his teeth across supple skin made her claw at the sheets beneath them, then at the nape of his neck when the high thread count became insufficient. 

Somewhere in the ether, Asia heard the advice to brace herself. Still, she let it pass until the shock of his tongue across her clit jolted her head off the pillow to look down at Kelvin. 

This was what Sabrina, her sister, and all the women she admired via her secret subreddit interactions meant when they talked about seeing stars from their partner's tongue alone. She'd seen enough videos and worn her vibrator out to the thought of having a man dedicate his time to kissing her most intimate parts like he would the lips on her face, but every passing birthday had her thinking the day would never come. Now here she was, about to cum and so afraid of the overlapping sensations that she felt like she had to get away, but the firm grip of her thighs against Kelvin's fingers simultaneously kneading at her flesh kept her locked into place.

Undeterred by her squirming, Kelvin resolved to put on a show with bursting, colorful fireworks and end like it was Independence Day for them and them alone. Lapping at her like a man possessed, he coaxed her to the brink of release quicker than expected. She called for him under the haze of lover's bliss, trying but failing to get him to stave off what she knew was more explosive than any time before. 

She'd gone quiet again, stifling her moans behind the arm covering her mouth while the other extended to push at the sage green upholstered headboard occasionally knocking against the wall. "Louder." His demand came in muffled against her pussy, gruff and impatient like he'd been waiting all day for her to give him what he wanted. When she didn't respond in the way he'd hoped, his palm harshly collided with her outer thigh before soothing the spot, making her finally cry out to his partial delight. "C'mon. Louder!" 

"Ohmygoooood," she slurred, finally popping the lid on her voice, unable to stuff the near screams back into a container. "Th-they'll hear m-me!" 

"Fuck 'em. Let 'em hear." 

She only knew her next-door neighbor to the right, Alister, as a quiet redhead with two cats and a penchant for making foul-smelling fish dishes on Saturday evening when she had a small collection of women file into her apartment for what Asia assumed was some sort of book club meeting. On the other side, Marie and Carson were a nice lesbian couple who would say good morning and bring in Asia's packages if she wasn't around for more than a day. Asia didn't know these people beyond their infrequent passing encounters. She hoped that the noises she was making, the squealing and thick, husky moans hitting the ceiling and raining down on her, wouldn't alter their hopefully positive perception of her. 

She'd never heard them, but they were damn sure about to hear her and what her voice could sound like when she was in tears at the height of a shaking orgasm with her hands smushed against her gentleman caller's head.

If he remembered nothing else from the first time Asia Scott made his face shine in her bed, Kelvin would remember almost cumming himself from her taste. He'd call it sweet if someone pried for the details long enough, but the adjective wasn't enough to describe something he considered totally and indescribably unique. Something that he had to coach himself into pulling away from to watch her chest heave in the afterglow of his best attempt to date. 

While she let her eyes roll behind closed lids to come down from her high, he kissed his way past the meeting at her thighs, up her stomach glistening in a light sheen of sweat, on both breasts, then her stomach, on her chin, and finally her lips as his hands traced a path up the sheets to clasp their fingers above her pillow. 

They got lost in each other for an amount of time neither of them wanted to keep track of, tongues meeting and retreating while Asia got used to the taste of her body in his mouth. Kelvin couldn't help grinding his clothed erection against her naked core to judge her reaction. Asia rewarded him with a final moan that he swallowed with pride. 

He pressed their foreheads together and pulled away to ask, "How you feel?" 

"Incredible." Kelvin watched her smile in the kind of post-release euphoria that came with a goofy grin and the sheen of a job well done, confirming without words that lesson two was a resounding success. He dipped his head to kiss her nose, then each corner of her mouth, too drunk off of her body beneath his to realize that business was starting to blur into the performance of romance. "What's next?" Asia asked, internally hoping he had a few more moments to spare. 

A thought crossed his mind as he kissed his way to a spot underneath her ear. Though he tried to will it away and bid her good night in enough time to slink out into the night with no emotional strings attached, he couldn't keep his idea to himself. 

"Ride with me tonight." He pulled back to look into Asia's eyes and scan for any signs of pushback. She stared back at him, questions furrowing her brow and her teeth nervously grating her bottom lip. He gently smoothed a wayward coil back into place and softened his gaze, pleading for her yes.

Leaning up to kiss his bottom lip, she finally answered. "Okay, but you gotta have me home before midnight." 

---------

The clamor of voices filling a small warehouse space teeming with eclectic art types dressed like they were supposed to be on the cover of a special issue of Essence Magazine and not perusing an art installation on a Saturday night. 

"The Art of Storytellin'" was an immersive experience chronicling Black stories through a mix of mediums from a collection of Black artists dedicated to representing the full gamut of Black life across the diaspora. At least that's what Asia read in the brochure slapped into her hand as she followed Kelvin through the tinted glass doors into a space she would never in a million years venture into alone. 

He led her through a winding maze of canvases, framed photography collections, and strategically placed bar carts to take a gander at piece after piece of awe-inspiring work. At points, he would stop and point out artists he knew by name and some he only knew by their signature brush strokes and expression style. She listened intently while he explained subtle nuances that didn't immediately jump out to the untrained eye, relishing the opportunity to step deeper into his world. In a few weeks, he'd be back to his life, and she'd be back to spending her weekends curled up with a glass of Merlot and another Sex and the City rewatch. Tonight, she chose to give in to the whimsy of his spirited explanation and his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd. 

In a corner partitioned with elegant white drapery to create a room, a single canvas called "Candy Lady" sat underneath a spotlight, shrouding it in diffused light. Kelvin stood back as Asia read the placard of information beside it, occasionally cross-referencing the words with what she could see with her naked eye. 

An angelic glow backlit her, and, not willing to miss the way she looked like art all by herself, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket to snap a picture for posterity. He stared at the photo with stars in his eyes, totally lost in what God had made.

"Rosé, sir?" The innocent question cut through his only thought, making him scramble to return to his home screen and save himself from embarrassment. The server waited for him to return her eye contact before pushing the tray in his direction and asking again. "Champagne? For you and your girlfriend?" 

Kelvin knew he should've corrected her but ignored better decision-making to hurry the interaction along. "Uh, yeah," he chuckled to relieve the heat rising in his cheeks. "I'll take two. Thanks." 

Balancing two plastic flutes of bubbling blush pink liquid, Kelvin slowly crept forward to join Asia's side. She stood still with her chin slightly tilted, still examining what was slowly shaping up to be her favorite piece of art in the building. 

He smiled at her profile for a moment before speaking. "You like this one, huh?" 

"Don't you," she gushed, looking up at an impressionist acrylic painting of a woman handing out bags of assorted candy,  multicolored freeze cups, and two-for-a-dollar pickles. Varying hues of brown hands fisting dollar bills covered the lower third. A stack of past-due envelopes sat near her merchandise, underscoring the slight frown in her determined facial expression. "My auntie was the candy lady, so I used to help her count money when it got busy over the summers. I guess it reminds me of being a kid and how fun that was." She finally turned to him to pull her back to the present and pointed at the drinks in his hands. "One of those for me?" 

Kelvin rushed to hand over one of the two beverages, accepting her silly toast before putting the plastic cup to his lips. He grimaced his way through the first taste of dry alcohol while Asia drank like a pro, making her laugh. "That shit is gross! You like that?" 

"Sometimes," she giggled. "Don't worry about it. I'll finish yours, too. Hold on to it for now." 

He tilted his head and smirked. "But I drank off this one." 

"I don't know if you know this, but you just had your mouth on my coochie, and you've been finding reasons to kiss me like I wouldn't notice," she laughed before switching their glasses and taking a long sip to Kelvin's surprise. "We're past the whole cooties thing." 

Noted. Kelvin chuckled, choosing not to add a rebuttal and return his attention to the conversation piece in front of them. "I know the artist." 

Asia looked at him and nodded. "Tell them this is amazing work. It's simple yet familiar. I'm so in love that I might have to come out of my home decor budget for this one." 

"I'll let him know. Him being…me." Kelvin watched Asia's face shift from confusion to realization to shock before she pushed his shoulder to punctuate the tinge of disbelief in her high-pitched request for him to tell the truth. "For real. It's old, though. It was a last-minute entry to help him fill out the exhibit. It's under a different name because I don't show my stuff all that often." 

"Scared people are gonna like it too much?" 

He chucked. "Yeah. Something like that."

The warm flutter of butterflies in his chest made Kelvin look away from his audience of one to pretend the ceiling needed his careful inspection. Anything to take the attention away from being complimented by the only woman to make him nervous since his first long-term girlfriend in portfolio school. She'd unknowingly sent him into a tailspin of self-consciousness and giddiness all at once, the unlikely mishmash churning his stomach full of hors d'oeuvres and awful wine.

Asia eyed him suspiciously until she felt satisfied that he was being honest and not the version of himself that couldn't help but prank her in the office. Then, she reached forward to scan the QR code for immediate purchase. She tapped at her screen, keeping her attention there as she spoke. "Well. Guess your fear just came true." Her eyes flickered up briefly to find Kelvin already staring back with both lips tucked into his mouth to keep his smile from growing wider than his face could accommodate. She used her head to gesture toward the R&B artist performing in the next session before depositing her phone back into her bag. "Let's go over here. Think we might've found some talent for Black At Work mixer next month."

Kelvin watched Asia's backside sway in time with each long stride while she weaved her way through the crowd in a beeline to the makeshift stage, leaving him to beg his feet to move behind her. 

Stuck. She had him glued in place and wearing a stupid, unexplainable grin in the presence of 200 strangers wondering what the hell had short-circuited in his brain. And the craziest part? All he could say was her name in response. No context, no explanation, not even a hint to give a black and white picture neccessary color. Only the two proper nouns that made her identifiable on paper.

Asia Scott was going to be the death of him.

--------

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[chloeangelic]

Belong to me, I: Chosen  

Line cook Joel x waitress reader

Line cook Joel AU masterlist

Summary: You desperately want a baby and hope that your grumpy coworker will help make your dream a reality.

Warnings:  Smut, yearning, mild angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader in her late 20s), mild brat taming, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, description of glass related injury/blood, social smoking, dom Joel (not degrading), ovulation sex, unprotected PIV, mutual pining, rough sex, size kink, ass play.

A/N: Posted a day early cause of the overwhelming response on the masterlist🥺🤍 I'm turning this into an AU that I can post to at random and just kinda use as a creative free space like I did with this, so there will be more parts :))

Word count: 4.8k Rating: 18+

You had a dream one night. 

A dream that you were holding a child, your child, a little baby who came from you, whose home was your body for the overwhelming majority of her life. You held her in your arms, cradled her, ran the very tip of your finger over her little nose, stroked her soft cheek and looked into her eyes, seeing yourself in their reflection. 

You had dropped her off at your friend’s house to watch her while you went and visited your parents, but when you returned, you could not find her. You searched and searched, asked every person you came across if they had seen her, but nobody had. And when you woke up, you felt that same gut wrenching anxiety over your missing child that you felt in the dream. Like she was still out there, but you had no way of getting to her.  

And ever since then, you’ve felt a vacancy in your heart somehow, a pull towards something intangible, something you know you will love and cherish with your whole heart and take care with all the energy you can muster, as soon as it is in your hands. 

Yearning. 

A deep, almost excruciating yearning for a baby, the baby in that dream, a baby you will not have anytime soon if you are dependent on the presence of a husband or even a boyfriend to provide you with one. For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to be a mother, and it feels as though your opportunity is slipping through your fingers, even at your young age, as you watch friend after friend go off with their significant other and establish families, and you’re still single, not even looking for a special someone.

You want what they have, unbearably so, and have gotten to a point where you think you might crumble if you never get the chance to raise a child, but the idea of dating does not appeal to you, and you would rather just do it all yourself. 

One time your friend asked you, “If someone put a gun to your head and told you that you have to have a kid with someone right now, who would you choose?”. You didn’t have an answer at the time, but you do now. It’s been simmering in the back of your mind for a while; the answer to that question. You’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, about how it feels like the right time for you to have this baby you so desperately want. 

During the afternoons and evenings, you serve tables at a busy restaurant downtown. It’s not the world’s most interesting job, but you think you’re generally well liked at that establishment, you’re friends with everyone, and the shifts go by relatively quickly. 

You walk in through the large doors, waving to Maddy as she escorts a couple to their table, swinging past the bar stools, making your way to the back office to take off your jacket and slip into your heels, giving your hair a quick look over in the mirror before you walk into the kitchen.

And there he is - the answer to your friend’s question. Too tall for the countertops and always hunched over, too broad for the narrow hallways at the back of the house. Big, very big, so muscular, with shoulders and biceps so large you wonder if he spends all his free time working out. Grumpy, never in what one would call a 'good mood', convinced that approving or disapproving grunts count as full answers when someone asks him something. 

Joel, a scowling and silent mountain of a man. 

Sometimes you sneak out during his break just to chat him up behind the restaurant, even stealing smokes from your coworker to give him a reason to spend more time with you. His scent is intoxicating every time you sit there huddled next to him, especially when it’s cool out and you shove your entire body into the side of his arm and his thigh, his skin as hot as a furnace.

Even his sweat, at the end of the worst shift one can possibly imagine, smells good. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry and what you presume to be combo shampoo and body wash considering he doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything that isn’t his daughter and he’s not exactly what one would call vain.  

It seems, however, as if he gives a little bit of a fuck about you.

Sometimes it even feels like he looks out for you. 

And you wouldn’t have had this suspicion had it not been for the fact that you brutally cut your hand on a shard of glass a few months back when a vase tumbled and you stupidly tried to catch it. You looked at your bloody hand, heard the snap of Joel’s fingers and a few commands before you were suddenly in his truck on the way to the ER.

He sat there with you, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut until you were called in by the doctor, waited until you came out, then stopped at the pharmacy to get an excess of things you might need, and drove you home. He even stayed with you until you were fed and passed out watching a movie on your couch. 

After that day, you’ve felt like his eyes are always on you, his scowl seeming more concerned than menacing, his hands suddenly there to catch you every time you’re about to trip over yourself. Something about the feeling of being protected by him has made your heart and ovaries twist around themselves, making that yearning for a baby incredibly urgent.

You want his baby now, whether he’s present or not, and you’ve decided that you’re gonna ask him for a little favor when ovulation comes around and you feel slick and needy and desperate for his come. 

Which just so happens to be tonight. 

The restaurant seems to get busier the second you step into the dimly lit lounge, sending you back and forth between the kitchen and your tables more times than you can count, trying to think of how to formulate yourself, how not to scare him off. 

You eventually check the time and see that it’s close to Joel’s usual forced break time, and decide that you might as well take your own break now too, needing to speak to him as soon as possible. So you hear the clicks of your heels as you nearly run through the kitchen, grab the lighter from the office and push open the doors to see him already sitting there outside, his face tilted up so the sun hits his skin and bounces off the silver in his otherwise brown hair. 

“You mind?” you ask as you close the door, and he nods for you to sit down next to him, already reaching down to commit coworker theft. It always feels casual, calm, even relaxing in some way, to sit out here with him, but tonight you’re on the edge, knowing he’ll never speak to you again if your request falls flat. 

He puts the cigarette between his lips and looks at you while he waits for you to light it, but your hands tremble around the lighter as you try to hold it up. His eyes narrow for a moment, then his hands come up to hold around yours, making them disappear under his large palms, holding them steady and looking into your eyes until the flame catches and he pulls back. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, his accent slurring the words together slightly.

You have a speech ready, an explanation about this longtime want and need and yearning to become a mother, a rationale for why you’re ready, why you want to do this as a single woman in her late twenties, an excuse for why you don’t want to go to a clinic and find a donor who’s a Harvard graduate in his early thirties.

Why it is you want him, Joel, to be the one to give this to you, and how he doesn’t have to do anything, emotionally or physically or financially, when you finally get what you want. 

But your plan falls flat as you open your mouth, your gaze locked to his dark eyes. “I wanna have a baby” is all that comes out, breathy and longing and absolutely not casual like you planned. 

You watch as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette and takes a drag, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then exhaling away from you before he says, “Sweetheart.. The fuck does that gotta do with me?”. 

You roll your eyes at him, never threatened or intimidated or insulted by his tone. There is something you find oddly charming about his ability to be grumpy for hours on end and seemingly never cheer up, any pleasant surprise met with the raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod. “I wanna have a baby, now, I don’t wanna wait to meet some prince charming and get married and do all that shit.. I’m happy raising it by myself, I-”

“And?” he asks then, the creases around his eyes getting deeper as a look of confusion creeps up on his face, “Why exactly are you tellin’ me this and not your girlfriends?”. You take a moment to figure out how to damage control, how to reel the situation back in and not scare him off any more, while you watch the smoke rising from between his two fingers, one thick arm resting over his knee. 

“I want you to get me pregnant, Joel” you finally say, running your hand up his thigh, unable to cover the expanse of it with your fingers splayed out, and the feel of his muscle tensing under your hands makes you clench around yourself, warm wetness starting to seep out into your panties, “Please? I promise I won’t waste your time”. 

He’s frozen, looking at your innocent expression and the subtle slouch in your shoulders. It’s too fucking hard to resist you, your doe eyes and little pout, and there’s something in your tone that makes his shock die down quickly, getting replaced by a strange feeling of flattery. A feeling he’s not used to. Not to mention the disbelief he feels at the prospect of you wanting to get in bed with him.

He can surely find it in himself do this for you without getting attached, without worrying about this child day in and day out, or about you. He hopes he can, hopes that he's too old to worry now. He won’t bother you, he’ll stay out of your business unless you need something. It’s an act of kindness from him, really, and it’s about time he does something nice for someone other than Sarah, who’s been the only one on the receiving end of all his care and love for the past sixteen years. Besides, you're a nice girl, why wouldn't he want to do something for you? 

And more importantly, why on earth would he pass up the opportunity to fuck you? To have you under him, to see what’s hiding beneath those black pants stretched to their absolute limit by the thickness of your ass, to hear what you sound like when you come, to know what you taste like, to know how your lips feel on his, not just on his cheek when you thank him for putting food aside for you. 

You’re too pretty and too young for him, he knows that, he’s known that since the first time he felt that little flutter in his chest at the sound of you calling his name. Now all he can do is cook for you, leave it under tightly wrapped aluminum foil on the desk in the back office so it stays warm, knowing you’ll look for it there when you run away from your shift in search of something to eat, with a post it note on top, your name sharpied on it, waiting for you.

Just like he waits for you, waits for the moment he sees you every day and hears you say his name again. Hey Joel, the same as always, nothing special, but bubbly when everyone else seems intimidated by him.

He has a little crush on you, a massive one actually, one he hates to admit that he's had for a while now. Ever since you sat out on the stoop behind the restaurant with him for the first time and shared a cigarette you stole from Jermaine. The guy thinks he hides the pack well, but sometimes when Joel comes out to get some air and you’re the only other one who shared the idea, you fish it out from under the steps and slip one out, seldom enough to where he’s sure not to notice. 

You teased him for something that first time, and he can’t remember what. A year has gone by, but the sound of your giggle at his disapproval has rattled around in his mind every day since. You frequently tease him, wait for him to roll his eyes, then attempt to tickle him before he grabs your wrist and holds it tight until his break is over, and he pulls you up to your feet, with his other hand on your waist, letting you in the door first before he shuts it behind him.

One time, when he held your eyes for a little longer than normal, he considered asking you out, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as soon as it opened. He wonders why you're single, how it's possible for a man not to want to make you his, why-

“Fuck”, he jumps a little as he lets go of the cigarette and flicks his wrist frantically, trying to soothe the part of his fingers burnt by the ashes creeping down to his skin as he sat there speechless and not paying attention.

“Well?” you ask as if nothing happened, watching his muscles flex under his t-shirt, “What do you say?”.   

“Jesus” he whispers, a contemplative shake of his head as his eyes dart around. He should ask why you want him to do it, should suggest every other dumbass working in this place, should tell you no, that he’s too old for you and you’re too beautiful and full of life and too good for this place. But he can’t find it in himself to pass up this chance, and he knows he would fuck you right. He would be good to you. He wants to be good to you.   

“That’s all you want?” he asks dryly, then a long exhale, staring into your eyes, “You want me to fuck you?”. Ten years ago he might’ve been more subtle, but he's lived too much since then, and trying to find ways to sugarcoat what needs to be said feels like a waste of his time. The sound of his deep voice makes you shudder.

“I just need you to come inside me,” you purr, nervous as hell all of a sudden, wrapping your finger in his hair, ”And I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, so.. You can do whatever you want to me”. He glances at your lips as you talk, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt and a swallow passing through his throat. “So you’ll do it?” you ask after a moment. 

He’s not passing up on this chance, already half hard at the mere idea of being inside you and counting how many goddamn seconds he has left on his shift. All he does is nod in response, his eyes going a little wide. “Thanks, Joel” you say then, as you stand up and brush off your pants, “I’ll send you my address, I need you over tonight, okay?”. You lean down to place a kiss on his cheek and disappear back inside. 

He stays sitting out there a few minutes longer than he’s supposed to, regretting not jerking off in the shower that morning, running his hand down his face and trying to figure out how he can make himself last longer than a minute. 

-

More than anything, it’s strange to see him like this, to see a new side of someone you’ve been around so much. It’s difficult to conceptualize the side of him that is private, intimate, personal. You've thought about him as just a man sometimes, not a coworker, and wondered what he might be like in situations like these. In bed. You wonder if you’ll see him differently after this, if it’ll be impossible to look him in the eyes at work when you’ve felt the size and shape of his cock, when you know what he sounds like when he comes, how he tastes, what he likes. 

“So, uh-” he says, as you sit on his lap with his feet planted on the floor at the edge of your bed, “What's the best way to do this?”. He corrects himself after a second, “How do you wanna do this?”. He has his hands around your waist, big and warm, and your arms are wrapped around his neck as you lightly tug at his curls.

“I didn't really think that far” you giggle, and he chuckles softly, likely picking up on your nerves.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks then.

“Um, yeah, sure” is all you manage to say before you feel his hand around the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before. The scratch of his mustache against your skin is oddly soothing, and his lips are soft, his tongue molten and slippery as it sweeps into your mouth. You exhale into him until your lungs are empty, becoming entirely pliant in his hold, one hand steadying your back as you try to keep from collapsing into his chest. 

A whimper escapes your throat, and he whispers, I got you, as he lays you down on the bed and rests his weight on his elbows, hovering over you and spreading your legs. His clothed cock pushes into you as he rolls his hips, forcing more of those little whimpers out and you can feel your pulse deep down where you buck your hips to grind on him. 

He undresses you carefully, not leaving a single item of clothing on, wanting to see your naked form. He rolls you onto your stomach and takes the opportunity to let his hands and lips and tongue explore every part of your backside, from your ankles to your ass to your shoulders, giving a little extra attention to your plush cheeks, that he pulls apart and then lands a swat to on one side, making you giggle as he soothes his hand over the mark, already starting to sting from his strength. 

You roll onto your back again and start to claw at his shirt. He reaches back to pull it off, revealing the muscular upper body you’ve wondered about for what seems like forever - years, now. A strange smile tugs at your lips as you look at him, at his arm flexing as he opens your knees to spread your legs, and he leans down to kiss you as he drags his knuckles up and down your center. 

He pushes two fingers into you and you moan, loudly, too loudly. He shushes you, kisses you again as you writhe under him and grind against his hand until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you arch your back and start begging him to fuck you. He slides his fingers out and looks down to see a thick, glossy string hanging between his two of his digits, raising an eyebrow in what you assume is awe. “Told you I needed you tonight” you purr.

He huffs a little in response, “I can tell”. 

He immediately finds your clit with the pads of his fingers, and rubs, slowly then fast, slowly then fast, as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand and shucks off his jeans, then his boxers, and lays on your side with his hard cock resting against your hip.

You start to squirm as he pushes his thick fingers inside you again, curls them a few times and slips them out, going back to massage your clit. “I know” he coos, “You want more, huh?”. All you can do is moan and nod, feeling your orgasm starting to pool at the bottom of your spine. 

“It's okay, just let me take my time with you”, he rubs you a little faster, firmer, as he watches your breathing get erratic, “Wanna fuck you right”. He wants to watch you come, has been fantasizing about it for such a long time, wants to see it and hear it and feel it. “I’m gonna give you my cock soon, okay?” he murmurs, “Don't want it to be painful for you, my girl, need you to come for me first”. And something about his words gives you the last push you need, making you come as you whimper his name over and over. 

He gets between your legs then, knocking his knee against yours to open you up, and leans over, taking his cock in his hand and nudging the leaking head into your opening. You can feel your thick, slippery wetness spill onto him, and you hear him grunt, fisting his length a few times with your slick and pushing in slowly, stretching you obscenely and filling you to the brim before he’s fully inside.

You shouldn’t be surprised at the overwhelming size of it, considering how he towers over you and is the only person you know who makes you feel tiny, but his cock rubs against every soft spot inside you and stimulates every nerve in your body, reaching a depth nobody has ever touched before.

He fucks you with deep strokes, reaching all the way to the end of you before he withdraws halfway and pushes back in, breathing hard and squeezing his hands around your hips so tightly you can feel the marks forming. You need him even deeper. “Harder, Joel, please, please“ you beg, “I’m so fucking wet and you feel so good, I- please, oh god, please”. Your voice is filled with desperation, and he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life, the sound of you on your knees for him, wanting him and everything he can give you. 

“Relax.” he says sternly, shoving you into the mattress with a thrust and holding you there with his strong hands, trapping you under him and forcing you to stay still as his cock slides in and out smoothly.

“I can’t, just hurry up, please, fuck me faster, I need it” you nag then, whiny and annoying, snapping your fingers.

He pauses then, leans over to stare down into your eyes, “Do you want my come or not?”. 

“Ugh, yes”, you groan, letting out a few soft grunts as you try to shift around in his grasp and push down onto him harder somehow.

“Settle then”, his voice is stern again, commanding but patient, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Come on, Joel”, you stretch your back and try to escape his gaze, digging your nails into his shoulders and feeling your walls fluttering around him.

His hand wraps around your throat then, and his face is close to yours, that dark gaze unrelenting and demanding your attention. “Settle down” he says calmly, and holds you pinned right there until he feels your body relaxing, your slick dripping down his shaft and your nipples tickling his chest. 

He flips you over and pulls you up and onto your knees, arms stretched out over your head as he slides all the way into you and the pressure on your cervix makes you try to squirm away. A useless endeavor. His hands rove around your ass cheeks and you hear a quiet shit above you, followed by an equally low fuck me as he squeezes your flesh, pulls it apart, then spits onto your asshole. 

You feel him smear it into your skin with his thumb, whining at how he teases you, pushing his thumb into your tight hole slowly while he jacks himself with his other hand. You plead again, a long, drawn out please, Joel, then another oh god, please, a last more, more for good measure, and then he’s pushing the head of his cock into you, filling you with his thickness and finally inching his thumb into your ass. The intensity is overwhelming, and your eyes roll back as another orgasm nears. 

“Give me one more, baby, come on” he coos as he reaches around and rubs your clit.

You respond, barely coherent and not wanting him to stop, “I don't- I don’t think it'll determine if it takes or not.. How many times I c-come”.

He gives you a few strokes, overwhelming and hard and squelching with your arousal before he says, “I read in a fuckin’ article that it helps, or, I don’t know, something”.

You shift your eyes around a little, wanting to laugh, “You read an article saying that orgasms increase your likelihood of conceiving?”. 

“Just shut up and let me make you come, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Stop talkin’ so much”. His voice is low and husky as he rubs the back of your hip with one thumb and the other sinks deeper into your ass as you tighten around it.

“Why?” you ask, breathy and whiny, “All I need is your come, I- I’m not expecting-”.

He cuts you off quickly, whispering, “Jesus…”. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you if you don't enjoy it, okay?” he says, “So just shut up and take my cock like a good girl, I know you can, I know you want it”. His hand snakes up to find your tit, squeezing it before rubbing your nipple with two of his fingers. 

“Besides, I know it makes you feel good, you can't hide it," he runs his palm down your back, smacks your ass firmly, then grabs it tight to stop the recoil, “You're about to soak my cock, I can tell.. Gettin’ all tense and shit”. He lifts your torso with his hand on your sternum, pulling you up and into him, shoving his face into your neck so you can listen to his growls while he fucks you.

Your orgasm hits you quite suddenly, and your head falls onto his shoulder as you pant. “How does it feel when I make you come? Huh, little bunny?”. You can’t answer, too blissed out and too fucked out to think, only mustering up a mumbled, uhhh. “Use your words now” he says, and flips you onto your back. 

He lines himself up and slams back in, folding your legs and pushing your thighs into your chest as he pounds you, “Come on, baby, tell me, how’s it feel to come all over my cock?”. You grab at the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his chest, trying to get words out but only managing an incoherent mess of moans. So good, Joel, so good, you whimper. 

Then he wraps your legs around his waist and slips his arm under your back, and supports himself on his fist right beside your head, lifting you up to pound you harder, deeper, with more force as his thrusts gradually slow down and he breathes heavily, staring down at how your tits slide up and down your chest. “Say you want me to come inside you”, his voice is strained, and you can tell he’s holding back by the way his cock twitches. 

You take a deep breath, and coo, as softly as you can, “Want you to be my baby daddy, Joel”, and watch his face contort, his eyes closing and feel his arm tightening its grip around you. You moan a little, eyes rolling back at the intensity. “Come inside me, please,” you beg, “Wanna be full of you, want you to give me a baby, your baby”.

He groans at that, then pulls you up into his chest so closely you can feel the sweat dripping down from his hair and onto your skin, and his cock pulsating as he fills you with his come. You can tell it's a lot by how he throbs inside you incessantly, and moans, long and ragged, while he digs his face into the crook of your neck.

He lifts your hips up, staying buried inside you, and shoves a pillow under you as a mix of his come and your slick runs down between your asscheeks, onto the cover. He wraps his hand around your throat again and growls, into your ear, “You’re mine now, little thing, all mine”.

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable V - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, suggestive situations

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part V

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Not when she was wearing those leathers that clung to her frame, highlighting her body from head to toe. Not when she had her wings out, her beautiful, magnificent wings. 

She was so effortlessly stunning. The most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He knew no one would ever come close. No one had ever quite captured his attention like she had. His own personal forbidden fruit.

Every night he thought of her as he touched himself, of what it might feel like to have her, to claim her as his. The noises he would draw out of her. How beautiful she would look with a flushed face and swollen lips. 

And every morning he thought of what it might be like to wake up with her in his arms, for her beautiful smile to be the first thing he saw every day. He wanted that more than anything, more than even sex. He just wanted her.

A large hand clamping down on his shoulder jostled him from his thoughts. Cassian stood next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop now,” he murmured under his breath. “Rhys looks seconds away from murdering you.” 

Azriel’s eyes flashed towards his High Lord, now noticing the piercing stare directed his way. Fuck. Had he been so obvious? He needed to get a hold of himself. It had gotten harder and harder to ignore his feelings for Rhys’s sister after she had confessed to feeling the same way about him. 

His eyes went back to watching the female Illyrians go through their training exercises. That's what they were here for after all. To check on their progress. Not to ogle at the High Lord's sister in her tight, enticing leathers. 

"He acts like her godsdamn father," Azriel hissed, unable to stop himself. 

Cassian gave him a troubling look. "He practically is, Az. He had to raise her himself since she was thirteen."

"And?" Azriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's not thirteen anymore."

"Yeah, I can tell you've noticed," Cassian bit back, crossing his own arms as he stared at his friend. Azriel felt like rolling his eyes. It was enough dealing with Rhys and his overprotective nature. He didn't need Cassian to join. 

"Oh, fuck off. I'm just pointing out how ridiculous he is when it comes to her. She's nearly three-hundred. Do you remember all the shit we got up to at that age?" 

"No, I won't fuck off," Cassian snarled, unusually serious for once. "You're walking a very fine line, brother. It doesn't matter how old she is. He will always see her as that thirteen year old girl he found covered in their own mother's blood in the snow.”

“I was there too you know,” Azriel muttered, darkly. “I was the one that found them, the one that scared off Tamlin’s father and brothers.”

Cassian’s eyes softened. “I know, Az. I know. And I know how much Rhys thanks the Mother every day for that. But we made a promise to him, remember?”

Azriel scoffed. Of course he remembered. That day would always haunt him. He hadn’t even known at the time what exactly he had been giving up. 

“What are you trying to insinuate, Cass?” He glared at his brother. He could feel his shadows getting riled up behind him—a reflection of his mood. 

“I know you, Az. And I know that look on your face. You want to get your dick wet—go find some other female to stick it in,” Cassian murmured under his breath. “Stay away from Rhys’s sister. He might love you like a brother but he won’t hesitate to rip your throat out if you touch her, if you hurt her in some way.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel replied, his face slipping back into a cold mask, his voice flat as he stared down Cassian. 

But Cassian only shook his head at him, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, muttering a small prayer to the Mother under his breath. 

Azriel went back to observing the Illyrian females. If Rhys was so fucking concerned about him messing with his sister, than he could excuse him from his duty as her guard. 

Besides, none of it mattered. As long as that tattoo was on his body, it didn’t matter how he felt. He couldn’t touch her. And she would never be his. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ever since that night in the study, you and Azriel had kept your interactions to the bare minimum. He was still your personal guard, which meant you couldn’t just stop seeing or talking to him while doing business in Hewn City. But the wound was still fresh, your heart was still aching, so it hurt just to be around him.

You had put off answering the Prince in hopes that Azriel would start making sense, would give up on whatever weird notion he had in his mind that he couldn’t act on his feelings for you. But he had offered you no more answers to the millions of questions you had. Had refused to even discuss it any further, so there was nothing you could do but move on. 

Which is why you and the majority of your family were in Vallahan. Rhys and Prince Cedric had exchanged some correspondence back and forth and while you weren’t accepting any marriage proposals any time soon, you weren’t completely opposed to getting to know Cedric more. 

So the Prince had invited you, your brother and a few of his courtiers to visit King’s Cross in Vallahan as his esteemed guests. Rhysand had brought along Feyre, of course, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta. Since Mor was already familiar with the faeries here, she had stayed back with Amren to run the Night Court while you guys were away.

Elain has also stayed back to watch over baby Nyx in Velaris with Nuala and Cerridwen. Some of the Valkyries had agreed to act as guards for the River House as well, to ease Rhys and Feyre’s minds. It was the first time they were leaving Nyx for longer than a day. But they didn’t want to bring him into foreign territory—especially not one across the seas. 

You had just finished getting ready for the first formal dinner here, deciding on wearing something from the Night Court instead of something in Vallahan fashion. You didn’t want the Prince getting any ideas that you had made up your mind.

The dress you put on was a dark, midnight blue. It fell to the floor, two slits on either side to show off your legs. The top was cut into a deep v and ended right below your breasts, connected to the skirt with leather straps that criss-crossed over your stomach. 

You left your hair down and opted for minimal makeup. Just the usual kohl around your eyes and a dark red lip oil. You looked at yourself one more time before stepping out of your room and into the quiet corridor. 

Azriel was already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite in his black Illyrian leathers. His expression was dark, his hair tousled with some pieces falling on his forehead. He looked up at you as your door closed shut behind you. You watched his eyes trail over your form, bringing some color to your cheeks.

You started making your way towards the dining chambers, Azriel following a pace behind you as your official guardian. You felt his shadows caress your thighs, cascade down to your feet. You clenched your fists in frustration.

“You cannot deny me and still try to have some claim over me,” you hissed under your breath. “Take your shadows back, Az.”

“I am your guard.” You heard his dark voice from behind you. “And they are simply helping me. It is for your protection, Princess.”

You whirled around at him with a glare. “That’s bullshit and you know it!” 

He stared at you with that cold, unfeeling face that only riled you up further. “You can think what you want, Princess. But I am only doing my job.”

You stalked towards him, pushing him back with a finger to his chest. “Send them away. Now.”

“No.”

You released a noise of frustration and pushed him against the wall. “I mean it, Azriel. I’m done playing your stupid games. Call your shadows off.”

“You’ve never had a problem with them before. Why now?” He stared down at you, unflinching. He flipped you so it was you pressed against the wall now. “It is for your safety so you will deal with it.”

“I hate you,” you growled, pounding a fist against his chest weakly. It was one of the biggest lies to ever come from your mouth but Gods, you were just so frustrated. 

Azriel leaned down, his hair brushing against your temple. “Hate me all you want, Princess. But if being your guard is the only way to keep you close to me, then I will be the best damn guard in all of Prythian so your brother has no choice but to let me stay near you. The shadows stay.” 

“You won’t have me but you won’t let me go,” you whimpered. “How is that fair, Azriel? You said you don’t want to hurt me but this…this is far worse than you rejecting me and moving on.”

“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he hissed back. “I can’t stay away from you, Princess, no matter how hard I try.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you opened your mouth to shout at him, to scream and cry and demand he leave you alone but another voice cut you off.

“What’s going on over here?” 

You both froze as your brother’s voice traveled down the corridor. You turned your head to see him standing at the end of the hallway next to Feyre, his arms crossed as he stared intently at Azriel, who immediately took a step away from you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the weird tension between the two males. “My earring got caught in my hair,” you lied. “Azriel was helping me untangle it.” 

Rhysand didn’t look convinced but he finally looked at you. His face softened and he held out his free arm, the one not linked with his mate. “Come, little dove, walk with me.” 

You scurried past Azriel, not sparing him a glance, and took your brother’s arm, letting him escort you to dinner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You tried to suppress your yawn but it had been another hour of being dragged around the castle by the Prince and you were so tired. He seemed happy to give you a tour, a tour you swore you had already taken the first time you were here, so you obliged him. But now you just wanted to go back to your chambers, take a nice warm bath, and go to sleep. 

Your family departed from Vallahan two days ago, after spending three days here. You had extended your trip to the end of the week by the Prince’s request. Part of you did it to spite Azriel who seemed to detest Cedric and the other, miniscule part of you was genuinely curious about the Prince. But he was turning out to be a total bore. Nice, but dull. He lacked the sort of dry wit you liked in others. He was also extremely soft—too soft. As if he had never had to fight for anything in his life. 

“Are you tired, Princess?” Cedric asked, noting your yawn. Before you could even answer the question yourself, he continued. “I only have one last area to show you. I promise I saved the best for last.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile. “Okay, lead the way.”

He extended his arm out to you and you placed your hand in the crevices of his elbow. He led you out of the library he had just been showing you back into the hallway. Azriel trailed behind you, along with one of the Prince’s personal guards, Lasos. Cedric had insisted that the pair of you didn’t need guards whilst together, but Azriel had swiftly rejected that notion and Lasos had joined after realizing that Azriel wasn’t going to let you two be alone. 

You didn’t care. If Azriel wanted to be a brooding asshole, then you would let him. You weren’t forcing him to watch Cedric court you, he was doing it all on his own. And maybe you had acted a little extra flirty with the Prince just to rub it in Azriel’s face. If he didn’t want you as his own, then he would have to watch you be with another. 

“This is the Queen’s quarters,” Cedric announced as he came to a stop in front of two large double doors. “This is where my future wife would live.”

“The Queen lives separate from the King?” you questioned as he pushed the doors open, revealing a lavish sitting area. The walls and floor were made of white marble like the rest of the castle, gold embellishments decorating the interior. 

“If she chooses to,” Cedric smiled. “This is simply a space for her to have all to her own, to use for whatever she wishes. There is a similar area in the main castle where my parents live. My mother uses it as a music room.” 

“That’s lovely,” you replied with a bow of your head. 

Cedric went to close the doors before either guard could enter, but Azriel quickly stuck a hand out and stopped him with a glare. “It is improper to be behind closed doors with an unwed female,” he growled.

You wanted to roll your eyes. Since when the hell did the Night Court ever care about that? Cedric’s eyebrows rose but he gave the shadowsinger a nod. “Of course, my apologies.”

You turned your back to them, not interested in watching them have another one of their dick measuring contests. It had been like that the whole week so far. Instead you walked towards the window on the other side of the room that overlooked the gardens. 

You nearly jumped in fright as two hands ghosted over your waist and a sudden presence was behind you. It wasn’t the first time the Prince had touched you, but it certainly was the most intimate. You had occasionally brushed hands, shared a kiss on the cheek, perhaps walked too close together, and shared some charged looks in the past couple days. 

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Cedric asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

You blushed a bit at his closeness, swallowing before answering him. “Yes, the gardens here are gorgeous.” 

“Not quite as beautiful as you, though,” Cedric whispered, moving your hair to one shoulder. Your eyes widened as he pressed a soft kiss against your neck. And then another. His lips brushed against your ear and you gasped. “Never quite as beautiful as you, Princess.”

“Prince Cedric,” you mumbled. “We are not alone.”

He twisted you in his arms until you were facing him, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Lasos is my most trusted guard. I can assure you he won’t speak a word of our transgressions.” 

You peaked at the male in question from over Cedric’s shoulder. Lasos had already turned around, his back facing the two of you. But then you looked at Azriel to see him intently staring at you, anger in his eyes. You were reminded of a time like this only a few weeks ago. Except it had been you watching Azriel and Elain.

So when Cedric asked, “What about your guard? Do you trust him to keep your secrets?” You smiled as you continued to stare at Azriel, whose anger was morphing into rage and whispered back, “Yes.” 

And let the Prince crash his lips against yours. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed your hair, sitting at the vanity in your guest room. You were surprisingly feeling a bit more light after your time with the Vallahan Prince. You two hadn’t gone any further than kissing, especially considering you were never truly alone, but it felt nice to be wanted by someone. You were a bit sad that your time here was coming to an end. 

Soon you’d be back home. Back to reality. 

You set down the brush and stared at your reflection in the mirror with a sigh. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Azriel started up again with Elain. You had no idea if what he had told you was true because everything he had said to you that night had only confused you. In the few weeks since then, you hadn’t noticed them together but you didn’t exactly go looking for them—not wanting to see something that would further hurt you. 

He still made no sense to you. You had seen the way he looked at you, watched you, like a starved male. Seen the anger on his face every time the Prince so much as brushed his hand against yours. His behavior was just so confusing. 

You would be returning to the Night Court tomorrow after sharing one last meal with the Prince and his courtiers. You wondered if he would ask you then, about his marriage proposal. Neither of you had brought it up in the time you had been here but you hadn’t forgotten. But you didn’t want a marriage that felt like a contract. You wanted to marry someone you loved.

And you did love someone…just not the Prince. But perhaps you could.

Your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you as you noticed darkness forming in the corner of the room behind you…no, not darkness. Those were shadows. They whirled in a frenzy, spreading into your room.

And then there was Azriel, stepping out from them. His face was cut from stone, his hazel eyes darkened, his hair in disarray. But there was something different about him now…a heavy resolve in his eyes. You gasped and stood, spinning around to face him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?” you breathed out.

He said nothing as he stormed towards you, his wings spread out behind him. Gods, he looked like a fallen angel. A creature of the night. So beautiful, but so lethal. You braced yourself against the vanity behind you. 

“Has Prince Cedric won over your heart then?” he asked, his voice as dark as his shadows. He didn’t stop until he stood right before you, so close you had to angle your head back to look at him. 

“What?” You were so confused. What was he doing in your room? Why was he asking about Cedric?

“Has the Prince won your heart, y/n?” He asked again. “It’s a simple question.”

Your eyes narrowed at his tone. “Don’t come barging into my room and act like an asshole. I don’t see why you’re so concerned about me and Cedric. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he growled. “As your guard—”

“Oh please,” you snapped. “Me and you both know you’re not asking me about this because you’re my guard.” 

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then as your friend—”

“Is that what we are, Azriel? Friends?” You scoffed. “I don’t think you want to be my friend.”

“Just answer the godsdamn question,” he snarled, ignoring your remark. “And for fuck’s sake, stop letting these males put their godsdamn hands all over you.” 

“No,” you bit back, poking him in the chest. “This shit needs to stop. You know how I feel about you. You know and you’re the one who says we can’t be together. So stop acting like you have some claim to me, Azriel.”

“Do you think I’m happy about that?” Azriel growled. “Do you think I’m thrilled to fucking want you all the time and not be able to have you, to claim you as mine?”

A few frustrated tears escaped down your cheeks. “I offered myself to you. I was ready to give you everything, Azriel. My heart, my body, my mind. And you are the one who rejected me.”

Azriel grabbed the sides of your face and rested his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily. “You make this so hard when you say shit like that. Please, tell me you hate me again. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I-I can’t,” you cried out. “Gods, I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel anything for you. Why are you doing this to me, Azriel? Why?”

His eyes shut, his forehead still resting against yours. “Because…Because you’re Rhys’s sister. I can’t…We can’t cross that line, Princess. He’ll kill me.” 

“I am not just Rhys’s sister,” you argued. “I am my own person, with my own wants, with my own dreams. That is a bullshit excuse, Azriel. Rhys will understand. I will make him.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighed. But he stepped even closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you to the vanity behind you. His leathers were rough against your silk nightgown, and your body sang at his touch. 

“No, I don’t,” you breathed out, closing your own eyes. His scent was so intoxicating; his presence so overwhelming. You couldn’t think this close to him. Couldn’t focus on anything but your desperate need for him. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Azriel. To us. You said you never wanted to hurt me but can’t you see how much you are by doing this? By telling me you want me as much as I want you but denying us the chance to be together? Can’t you see how much it hurts me.”

“I don’t care anymore, Princess. I don’t care if it hurts you as much as it hurts me,” Azriel growled. “I’m done trying to be a better male. I can’t watch you be with other males, can’t watch them put their filthy hands all over you. Not when I want you as my own.” 

Your eyes blinked open, staring into the hazel ones already watching you. You could see the pain behind his own eyes, the longing, the want. They were a mirror to your own.

“So have me,” you whispered. 

You saw the break in his resolve just a second before Azriel crashed his lips into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were stunned but as soon as you realized what was happening, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands sliding up the back of your neck into your hair as he deepened the kiss, so full of passion, so full of love. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fire lit its course through your veins. Kissing Azriel was everything you had dreamed of and more. It felt perfect…it felt right. Like everything in the world had disappeared and it was just you and him. 

His hard arousal pressed into your stomach and you gasped at the feeling. He used it as an opportunity to flick his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, with a groan. His other hand slid down to your waist and to the backside of your thigh. He lifted you with one arm as if you weighed nothing and placed you on the edge of your vanity. The bottles of lip oils, the pots of kohl, all clattered to the floor as it shook under you at his ferocity. 

His hand slid back to your waist, yanking you closer to him as he pressed himself between your legs. You moaned into his kiss, electricity licking your skin. Azriel let out a growl at the noise you made, his lips pulling away to begin tracing kisses along your jaw, down your neck. You tossed your head to the side, granting him more access as one of your hands slipped into his hair.

His nose grazed the column of your neck as he took a deep inhale, soaking in the sweet smell of you. “Say it again. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this, Azriel,” you breathed out, panting. “I want you. Have me. I’m yours.” 

He let out a low growl at your words and sank his teeth into your neck, at the spot of your pulse pounding. You gasped and his lips were on yours again. He let out an almost pained grunt, slipping his hand up your nightgown to grip the soft skin of your thigh. His hard length pressed against your clothed core and sent another wave of electricity up your body. 

He groaned again, his grip on you tightening. His fingers were digging into your skin, his other fisting your hair so tightly it caused a small whimper to leave your lips. The pain and pleasure mixed together to create a feeling you wished would never end. But then Azriel grunted again, his hold on you so forceful, you couldn’t help but wince. 

He pulled away from you with a pained groan. Your eyes shot open to see the male before you grimacing in pain. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Azriel…Azriel, what’s wrong?”

His teeth clenched, the veins in his arms protruding like he was trying to fight against something. You slid off the vanity to stand, running a soothing hand down his arm. That only seemed to make things worse and he crumbled to the floor with another grunt of pain. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs as he pressed his forehead against them, cursing. 

“Fuck,” he groaned in pain.

You knelt on the floor in front of him, grabbing his face with your hands. “Azriel, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

His hands covered your own and gently pried them off his face. 

“This…is…why,” he managed to ground out through gritted teeth, “why we can’t do this.” 

Your arms hung limp at your sides. “Azriel, I don’t understand. What’s happening?” 

He let out a painful sigh and sat back on his haunches, lifting his shirt up. You stared at him in confusion before your eyes fell to his bare chest, tracing over the Illyrian tattoos that curled around until you noticed another, smaller tattoo. Not an Illyrian one. But a…bargain tattoo?

“Azriel? Is that a bargain tattoo?” you breathed out, bewildered. He nodded in answer. “I don’t get it. Why are you showing me that?”

“Your brother,” he grunted out.

“My brother what?” Your eyes flickered back and forth between his own, trying to understand. 

“He forced us…”

He trailed off and your eyes darkened. “Forced you to what?” 

“Me and Cassian,” he finally said, hanging his head down. “Years after, when you…when you finally matured, I think your brother saw the change in how I looked at you. I think he grew suspicious of my feelings towards you…and he didn’t like that, y/n. You were still just a kid to him…you’ll always be, Princess. And he made me and Cassian promise him that we would never touch you in that way, that anytime we touched you with less than innocent intentions, we would feel the pain of a thousand blades striking down on us.”

Your mouth dropped open, your eyes falling back to the tattoo on the side of his hip. At the Illyrian wings with a blade running down the center of them. Your brother had…What the fuck had your brother done?

“Cassian agreed without any hesitation, Princess,” Azriel continued, his voice full of sadness and regret. “And I knew if I didn’t, your brother’s suspicions would prove true. I knew he’d kick me to the curb, toss me out, if I didn’t. And I thought it was just a crush, something I could get over. So I agreed. But Gods, y/n, I’ve regretted that day ever since. Because it wasn’t just a crush. My feelings for you never went away. Which is why I tried to hide them in others.”

“I-I…” you choked out, unable to form words. This was the last thing you had expected. You knew your brother was protective over you…but to make his friends form an official bargain with him. “So you can’t touch me without…without…”

“Without feeling one of the worst pains I’ve ever known. He made you untouchable, y/n. To us. To me and Cass. It's why I tried to push you away, tried to make you think I wanted others. I couldn’t give you what you wanted, what I wanted.”

“There has to be a way to undo this, Az,” you whispered. “Maybe I can convince my brother to release you from it—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Princess, you know it doesn’t,” Azriel sighed. “Besides, he would never agree. If he knew I tried to touch you like I have tonight, he would sooner stick a dagger through my heart than ever allow you to be with me.”

“I will make him see how wrong he was for doing this, Azriel,” you said with conviction. “He was probably still traumatized by what happened to me…by what those males did to me. We just need to tell him how much we want to be together, how much—”

“It wouldn’t matter, y/n, don’t you see? Your brother might be the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, but even he cannot break bargain bonds. Even The King of Hybern needed to use the cauldron to do that.”

“I won’t accept this! I can’t, Azriel. Why should we have to! We want to be together and it's not fair that we can’t!” 

“I know, Princess, I know,” Azriel grimaced. “And I’m so sorry for making that promise. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I should’ve left you alone. I shouldn’t have ever—”

“No, don’t say it. I refuse to believe this is it. I refuse to believe we just have to live always wanting each other and never having it. There has to be another way.” 

“He did put one condition on it, one way to break the bargain. But…”

“But what? What is it?”

Azriel looked up at you, his hazel eyes filled with such longing it made your heart ache. “If we were mates…if the mating bond ever snapped between us, or between you and Cassian, the bargain would be completed.” 

But nearly three hundred years had gone by since then and…and a mating bond had never snapped between you and Azriel. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: omgggg I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! But now we all know the bargain Az made with Rhys soooo it's gonna be fun to see how this all pans out ;) are they mates? or will we have to find some sneakyyyy way to be together? who knowssss ;)

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*if you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, tumblr probably won't let me add it for some dumb reason :((

[tan1shere]

Come To Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: a lil lot self reflective ? I have a parent that is homophobic, it's a horrible thing but its sadly reality. I got this idea so I hope you enjoy. I notice how protective and caring Billie can get over the ones she loves :)

Summary: it was taking a toll on you, you couldn't handle how he treated you anymore it was just too much, so when you announced your new girlfriend in hopes he'd just understand, that's when things go south.

Warnings: angst angst angst, fluff at the end tho ! Homophobic parent.

Masterlist

It wasn't your fault. But it truly seemed like it. You lived with your dad for years, ever since you were 5, your mother had never been around so it was just the two of you. Everything was great he was sweet to you. That was until you got to the age of about 7 or 8, he started to not care as much. And it was always confusing when he did. You just wished he'd show it all the time. Not just when he felt like it. So it came a shock to him when you first said you might like girls. You were 13 and had a suspicion that you could infact like females.

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll settle down with a man, you don't even know what you want yet."

And that suck in your brain for years, you didn't truly see how horrible he ended up until later on. 16. You had genuinely figured out that you were into girls, you had your first kiss with one that year and it showed you how you that was. That was what you wanted. You wanted to be with girls. Kiss them. Make love with one. But it frightened you, as you were still living with your father, what he had said scared you. You had to pretend that you did like guys. Fake who you genuinely were. It was tiring by the age of 18.

So you decided to move out, be on your own where you wouldn't worry about accidentally saying how you loved women. Whenever you were on the phone with your friend you'd have to make sure none of you said anything along the lines, incase he listened. Incase he heard how 'a wrong thing' you felt was.

Now we are in the present. You had just turned 21, chilling out in your apartment. Watching something random on the TV. You had just been to see your girlfriend, Billie. When your phone dings.

Dad. ...

Hey angel, want to come round for some drinks to celebrate a late birthday?

You stare at it for a moment, you absolutely hated whenever he'd be sweet to you. It always seemed fake, even if he wasn't. It never ever lasted even when you moved out you'd get yelled at for fucking breathing. You couldn't escape it, not once. You take a moment not even sure if you want to, getting a bad feeling about it. But your dumbass says yes. Was it the name? It gave you hope he mightve actually loved you, and not because he has to. But it was never the case. He didn't love you. Unconditional love did not. Exist to him.

The door opens and you see him, he smiles and gives you a hug. But you hated this, you had tried to avoid seeing him for the past few years. You couldn't bare it. It would give you false hope that he changed. But there's no changing. Not now. So if you stayed away you wouldn't have to deal with him, deal with his niceness one day and horrible the next. As if you were a child again. Staying far away was the only option. You go into the house, putting the bottle of alcohol on the kitchen counter. "How have you been." He asks, following. "Not too bad, you?" "Same same." You nod, unsure of how to continue.

He seemed off, maybe he started drinking already. He claimed he wasn't an alcoholic but he really was. He had stopped in the past but nearly every night he'd drink, when you were a kid, teen, and even now. More so that he's retired. "So, anything new?"

I have a girlfriend and I'm gay.

"Not really no."

He nods, trying to find something to talk about. "I didn't make anything, but we can order something? Maybe McDonald's?" Your brows furrow just slightly. You use to always eat that when you were a kid, and maybe on the off occasion now but you hadn't had it in forever. "I don't really eat that anymore dad, maybe some Chinese or something." You then say, fiddling with your rings. "Yeah, that's fine. When did you stop eating it." You think for a second. "Maybe like 4 years ago?" The air was awkward again. Why was he acting as if he knew you. He truly knew nothing about you. Nor did he even try.

It had been an hour or so, you had got food and were trying to find some kind of topic to talk on. You had, had a few drinks. "Well, uhm was your birthday good?" You nod gently. "I spent it with some friends and I got a bunch of nice things too, from them and my gi-" You pause, but your mind said fuck it. You don't live with him anymore you live your own life now. "My girlfriend." He stares for a second. "Is this a new friend or that one you'd always call?" You sigh, he was ignoring the fact. He knew damn well. "I'm dating someone. A girl." More silence. Was it staying that way? Until he speaks. "You said that years ago, or something like it. Youre just confused still."

Something ignites in you. Maybe it was the alcohol or the pent up stress from your job but you fire back. "I know what I want and it's her. I'm far from confused." He shakes his head and goes to talk again but your anger wins, instantly shutting him up. "And no I don't have any interest in men I don't want to be with one. I don't want to marry one. But I think I have you to blame for that because you were the shittiest one in my life." You didn't want this to carry on, getting up and heading for the door. "Keep the booz I'm sure you'll drink it no problem." Now he was angry.

"Dont ever speak to me that way." You swiftly turn around. "Why? Because you know good and fucking well that it's the damn truth, that you're an alcoholic asshole, and a horrible father." Slap.

.....

Your worst fear came to reality. He'd never physically hurt you, always mentally. But you'd always wonder if he ever would, if something one day would really set him off and that was this moment. You hold your cheek as the sting spreads through your face, your finger moves to your nose feeling slight blood. Not much, but considering his strength it would definitely leave some marks. Everything was still. You didn't dare look at one another. "I don't ever want to see you again." You mumbled, but he heard. "Wait-" As if he felt guilty. He did that loud and proud. You just instantly turn around.

Heading for the door, he follows after but you were quicker to your car. "Y/n!" You were gone, never ever wanting to see him again. As you were driving slightly drunk you got a text from work and all you wanted to do was scream. Ofcourse they text right now. Then you got a call. Billie, you answer. "Hi." Your voice was slightly shakey but it wasn't evident through the speaker. "Hey! Was thinking about coming around, just got done with my shit for the day. I missed you." Your tears start pouring out, a sob escaping. "Baby?" You hear her say, you just hum in response. "What's going on you're worrying me." Her tone changed to tense. Serious. Then she heard your car in the background. Making her heart race like crazy. You had your phone on speaker but you put it down. "Pull over." She speaks, but your tears were firey. Your face stung. "Baby please pull over." She repeated.

After she got no reply again, she freaks out. You honestly couldn't hear her, your ears ringing and your mind fogged with everything that happened, you wanted to forget it all. Erase it from your brain. "Y/n, fucking pull over!" She screamed, that. You heard. Coming back to your senses and doing just that into a nearby gas station. She heard the car stop letting out a relived breath. "Jesus christ." She then says. "Where are you, please talk to me." She knew something horrible was up. You never ever wanted to bombard her with your past. Or even tell her about your father.

You told her tiny bits but not everything. Maybe it was time you did. But your slightly drunk state rejected that. "I'm fine, just needed to blow off some steam." You utter, so dry. So cold. And it was frustrating her she couldn't help. She couldn't do anything because she knew you were lying. She knew something wasn't right. "Where. Are. You." You let out a breath. "Talk later." She curses under her breath panicking as you hang up. How on earth was she going to find you. Your door opens as you get out of the car. Your intoxicated mind telling you too keep going. Maybe the sting on your face would ease.

You buy a bottle of whatever, going back out to your car to drink it. But soon the tears just come pouring out. All you wanted was to get home and curl up into bed. So you did, and you had 0 clue on how you made it, your vision blurry from the mix of tears and drunkenness. You had only just stepped through the door when your phone rings, but you had no energy to answer. Plopping your bag down on the floor, worrying about it later. You kick your shoes off somewhere. Also going to worry about them later. You fall to the floor, tears still coming down your cheeks, except this time your emotions had vanished. When yu hear your front door swing open.

Your head turns to see Billie standing there, worry and anger on her face. But the worrying look overtook it all. "What the fuck happened." Her brows knit together, noticing you're crying. "Fuck babe, I was terrified." Those emotions come back, seeing her face. And everything she brings with, her unconditional love. That's all you ever wanted. Was to truly feel that. You sob, heavy. And her heart just breaks, hurts to see you this way. Her hands make contact with your skin. "Did you fall over?" Her thumb swipes the growing bruise around your eye. "Fuck babe." She says more to herself. The redness on your check and the tiny dried up blood just beneath your nose. Your head shakes at her question. "Well you've been drinking, I can smell it. Did you drive home like this?" You nod, really not trusting your voice right now.

"Fuck." She lowers her head. "Don't do that shit, talk to me instead please." You hiccup trying to calm yourself down. "Hey hey, I'm not mad or anything yeah?" You nod "I know.. I'm just sorry." She purses her lips. "Don't be sorry, just talk to me. You know you can." Her thumb soothes over your face again, sensing you don't want to talk right now especially considering your state. "Come on." She softly says, grabbing your waist and getting you to stand. Your wobbly form almost makes you fall back down but her grip tightens. "Did someone do this to you?" Her face was almost back to angry again at the thought.

And when you anxiously don't reply her eyes widen. "Did they?" Your eyes shut for a second. But she drops the topic, taking you into your bathroom. She sits you up on the sink, grabbing a warm wet cloth. Gently wiping your face from the makeup you had on, the remainders that was. Your tears had ruined most of it. You then had the sudden urge to tell her, tears starting up again. "My dad.. He did it. I went to go see him and we drunkenly got into an argument and he hit me hard." Her face drops, hating seeing you in such distress, it hurt her. "S-so. I left and I didn't know what to do and-" You hiccup again but Billie just brings you in for a comforting well needed hug. You cry into her shoulder, letting everything over the years out. And you felt like you could with her.

You felt safe, that kinda safe that you've never felt before. Her hand rubs gently up your back landing in your hair, resting her chin ontop of your head. You sat like that for awhile until you had calmed down again. You tell her everything, sitting on your bed and explaining. "What a douche." She says shaking her head. You nod in response. "Thank you." You then blurt out. She was slightly confused. "What for?" - "For making me feel so safe. You're the only person in my life who does." She grabs your face, so delicately. And kisses you sweetly. You knew this is what you want, what you've always wanted. No man could ever make you feel so safe and comfortable.

"I always want you safe. You mean so much to me and when I heard you driving my heart sunk right down to the floor." You felt awful, you never knew anyone could worry that much about you. "I love you." She then says. And you believe her. You never ever believed anyone who told you those words. "I love you. So much." You then say with a bright smile. "Talk to me in future ok? I was so worried tonight. I just want to keep you safe." You nod, you most definitely were going to. After all. She was your everything, and more.

[writememysticfalls]

Red Door | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: You're sleeping with Elijah, but you're someone else's girl. Tonight, he's done playing nice. He wants you all to himself.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Red Door!Elijah

Word count: <1k

A/N: 🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN VAMPS! 🎃

“Elijah.”

A red door. The ache of thirst. The sweet taste of Tatia’s blood.

“Earth to Elijah… you there?”

Elijah realised he had been daydreaming.

He was resting one hand in his pocket, staring at his reflection in the black window. Red veins shrank back from his cheeks.

“Whatcha looking at?” you whispered. You shut the study door behind you.

“Merely enjoying the view,” he lied.

His thirst had been stronger lately. Overpowering. But he could resist those…temptations. He was an Original, wasn’t he?

Elijah sat on a chair and yanked off his tie.

“Sit,” he ordered.

You straddled him, stroking his tense shoulders. “Day three of my wedding saga…” you whispered. “We’re getting matching tattoos. I’m not kidding.”

Elijah didn’t reply. His mouth was already sucking your neck.

You hissed in pain. “Easy there, cowboy,” you said. “Anyway, he’s demanding I get his name tattooed-”

“Too… much… talking,” he murmured, nipping your throat.

You were used to Elijah’s hungry kisses. Your affair happened on cold brick walls and the backseats of cars. Time was always precious.

But tonight, Elijah was moving too fast. He forced your mouth open. He bit your lip, and you tasted blood.

“Easy on the face!” you said. “I am a bride, you know.”

Elijah’s eyes were flat. “Can we not discuss your joyous nuptials for one second?

“Elijah?” you said. “What’s wrong?”

“Just kiss me,” he said, starting to unbutton his shirt.

You put your hand over his. “I said, what’s wrong?”

Elijah seized your hand. His eyes turned blood red. For a second, you saw no trace of tenderness. He looked at you like an insect he wanted to crush.

“Elijah, you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice low.

He squeezed your hand tighter. Pain shot through it.

“Y/n L/n,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his mouth. “I asked you to kiss me. Are you incapable of following one simple instruction?”

You scrambled off him.

Elijah took one step towards you, then another, forcing you to move away. Your back hit the wall.

“You insolent little girl,” he said, giving a chilling laugh. “I humour you too much. You have a total lack of discipline.”

You frowned. “Elijah, you’re the one person in my life who doesn't try to control me. That’s why I love you.”

“Oh, please,” he said. “You don’t love me. You’re using me. Swearing your heart to another man while your limbs tremble under my touch.”

You shoved him off. “Hey. I never forced you to do anything. If you want to take the moral high ground, there’s the door.”

Elijah grabbed your throat, making you gasp out in pain. “I am an Original vampire,” he hissed. “I could snap your throat in a second. Watch your tone.”

“You’re hurting me,” you croaked.

You couldn't believe how quickly Elijah had turned from the lover you knew to this heartless monster. It must have been lurking, just beneath the surface.

You stared into Elijah’s eyes, desperate for a scrap of sympathy. There was none.

Suddenly, he let you go.

He collapsed into a chair, resting his head in his hands.

You hurried to the door. Now you thought about it, you knew Elijah had been acting up the past few weeks. You should have done something, before it got to this.

“Wait,” Elijah begged, frozen in the chair.

You rested your hand on the doorframe. “No,” you said. “You crossed a line tonight, Elijah. I don’t care if you’re jealous of my fiance. You touch me one more time, and I swear-”

Elijah’s voice was quiet. “I have been hiding the truth from you, Y/n,” he said. “I told you that I had overcome my mother’s mental torture. I told you I had… closed the red door.” He looked up at you, and his eyes were red with tears. “I lied. I can no longer control the beast within me.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Elijah. I don’t feel safe around you anymore.”

Elijah panted for breath, his mouth open. “Please,” he said. “It was a moment of weakness. It will never happen again. I give you my word.”

“You can’t make that promise. You’re not well.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “What if next time… you can’t stop?”

He rubbed his face in his hands. “I promise I will overcome my mother's torture, because, Y/n, I love-”

“No,” you said. “Don’t say it.” You turned away from him, hiding your tears. “If you say those words, I won’t want to walk away from you. And I can't forgive what you did tonight.”

And before Elijah could reply, you were gone.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We've got a jam packed post this week, folks. The live airing shows continue to impress, a sequel film and a recent GL dropped, and one of my favorites of the year cam to an end. These are all streaming on Gaga or provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Our Youth

This week the show gave me everything I wanted from a POV switch, as we finally went back a little to get a peek into Hirukawa's head and learn how his feelings for Minase developed. From there, we continued with the high school era story, with Hirukawa and Minase going together to see his dad's new film, which turned out to be a BL. The show really nailed how meaningful that moment was to both of them, to see characters like themselves depicted on screen and realize what it meant (@twig-tea). This episode also gave us more of a sense of what's broken in each of their relationships with their parents, and they are now heading off to spend the weekend with Hirukawa's mother. I'm nervous to see how this past iteration of their relationship ended, but also excited to get back to the present.

Love is Like a Poison

An excellent ending to all around solid as a rock show. This drama managed to blend several genres and develop a great romance and tell so many good jokes and somehow never take a single misstep in its storytelling. So refreshing! Shiba and Haruto are a battle couple for the ages and I wish them well on their future domestic and legal partnership. Can't recommend this one highly enough!

Love in the Air Koi

Color me charmed. I really like Fuma and Kai as a pair, more than I expected to. Fuma comes across more good-humored and unserious than he does sleazy, and it's clear that he is actually very serious about Kai. “Why do your eyes always look like you’re asking for help?” was a great line to demonstrate that Fuma sees through Kai's bluster, but at the same time he knows when to back off and give Kai space to process. Kai got me with his constant smiling whenever he thought Fuma couldn't see (the shot in the side mirror of the car being my favorite). I also loved the quick scene we got with Arashi and Rei discussing their friends and the casual affection between them now that they're a couple. This show is great, and so far I think they've done a good job with the darker aspects of Kai's story. I really appreciated @bengiyo's reflections this week on what it's doing well and how the show is subverting expectations with the casting.

The Fragrance You Inherit

This week we got more context for Sakura's college days, including meeting her bestie Ryosuke (an ace king!). I definitely suspect that Sakura's affections were not entirely one-sided back then, but Mone remains a mystery for now. This story is definitely about closure rather than any new romance, and maybe in the end allowing Sakura to be who she is more freely. Speaking of which, Toki might just be my favorite teenage son character ever. He's such a good boy, and he seems driven primarily by a desire to know his mother and support her in pursuing her own happiness instead of just his. I look forward to meeting Mone's husband next episode and continuing to watch all these lovely people treat each other with compassion and kindness. You can find the show here, with big thanks to @isaksbestpillow for providing English subs.

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru: More Please

This week Gaga dropped a sequel to this charming if inessential little food BL film. The first one let us down by not making the relationship explicitly romantic, and the sequel did rectify that as the characters prepared to leave school and contemplated life no longer living together. Though still no kiss for us. It didn't blow me away, but it's a nice little bit of fluff if you have free time and want something light.

Salty Blue

This short GL film (only 15 minutes) tells a solid and sweet little friends to lovers story, with some surprises thrown in for fun. I recommend giving it a watch! You can find it here with big thanks to @nicks-den for subbing and sharing it.

[allfearstofallto]

What would Yuri (your yandere bulter OC) do if his lady had an arranged marriege and was meeting the person she was arranged to marry with?

(Y'all make me so happy I could die!! I've been unironically imagining this scenerio for months!!!)

Yandere! Male OC x Reader

“You're much too young to be wed,” Yuri whined softly as his cold finger tips helped you latch the clip of your necklace. A beautiful, pink gem nestled in the center of the neckware drew attention to your bare collar bone, the radiant skin of your chest, and the lovely smile you had just above it. Yet another piece of jewelry your mother had sent you from her travels, she had such a taste for things you liked, despite hardly being around.

You merely scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes in the tandum. While he tied your hair up, you dusted yourself with perfumed powder, staring at yourself the entire time, “You must be insane, Yuri. I'm actually past the average marrying age.”

That much was true. Girls of your status typically married much much younger, usually right after coming of age. Even you yourself received many letters begging for a chance to meet after your debutante, which Yuri would swiftly burn in your fire place when you expressed your distate. You had things holding you back. You longed for schooling, travel, and a the freedom of being young and not tied down. Both your father and Yuri took this news excitedly and never pushed for you to get wed. They both even excitedly told you that you'd never have to leave the manor and if you so pleased, you'd be pampered for the rest of your life.

It sounded nice in theory, living off of your fathers wealth and being a bachelorette until the day you died, but many women at your tea parties were talking about their prospects, fiances, and even their husbands, and suddenly you felt as if you could no longer relate anymore. And the even more harsh realization hit you, that you were lonely. You'd sit quietly at the table, sipping your tea nervously and realizing that maybe it was time for you to begin viewing romance in a different light, not as a hindrance chaining you down, but a new beginning in life.

Your father was expectedly saddened by your announcement and Yuri…well, Yuri’s expression was hard to read. He stood silently for a bit, his lips formed in a tight line, eyebrows starting to furrow a bit behind his thick, round glasses. It was a face you'd never seen him make before, him typically preferring laid back or soft expression.

“You can't actually be serious, my lady,” Yuri forced himself to not sound more hurt than he actually was, but if you listened closely, you could hear his voice tremble, “You always said you'd stay in the manor forever.”

You glanced at yourself once over again in your full body mirror, feeling shy and almost slightly over dressed in the gown you chose. It was such a strange feeling, the way your heart was thumping in your chest, and you couldn't tell if it was excitement or nerves. You could see Yuri behind you in your reflection, a frown still formed on his lips.

“I said that when I was eight! You can't trust the words of a child,”

Yuri sighed again, pushing his snow, white hair out of his face in a sign of stress. A stress reflex that you seldom saw him do. Yuri was a man that was so calm and composed, yet today he was showing so much anxiety. And for what, you'd didn't know.

“Then what of me? This man you're meeting, he's the Duke two cities over. I am here to serve you, my lady, won't I go with you?”

“I'd hate to uproot your life, Yuri,” you began with a sad tone. You couldn't fathom the idea that he could look any sadder, yet as you spoke, his face fell even farther, “B-but mother will be home shortly! She sent a letter saying that it will only be a few more weeks, you could still stay in the manor and tend to her instead.”

Your suggestion is met with a shallow, solemn shake of his head, “You are my life, my lady. I wish to serve no one else.”

[yallmakemyassitch]

The Shoe Store (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ 👠

Summary: A grumpy Elizabeth learns how to smile after her bad attitude at the shops today! And Mrs. Mulberry knows just what to do to whip her daughter into shape...

Word count: 4893

Tobi talks: Finally got around to finishing this as promised! This took a long time, but I grinded today to get this finished :3 Either way, I'm very happy with the results and I hope you are as well. The art was an art trade done by @ntj2pj, please go follow him, he's very talented! Either way, have a good weekend!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60765493

“But mummy, I don’t wanna gooooo!”

A little girl wailed dramatically, being dragged by the wrist. Her loud complaint got an annoyed sigh from her mother. The Mulberry was fighting with her body weight as Elizabeth defiantly tugged back to slow their journey.

The 8-year-old made surprising progress against slowing the over-40-year-old woman. The sound of her heels scraping against the ground made the British woman cringe. Her doing that was one of the multitude of reasons they were here in the first place!

“I know, Eliza, but we both know you need new shoes!” Her mother argued, looking down at her whining child for a split second. She felt momentary relief cascade over her psyche as the duo neared the revolving doors of the luxury shoe store.

Mrs. Mulberry felt the harsh tug of a ‘certain child’ pulling at her arm, which abruptly stopped them for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Elizabeth had burrowed her feet into the ground below, halting their approach into the dreaded shop.

Heather had had enough and whipped around, glaring softly down at her daughter, “Elizabeth Mulberry, behave yourself.” she exclaimed firmly, ticked off. Her golden eye’s typical gentle appearance had slightly widened into a piercing stare.

Elizabeth’s bright green eyes looked shocked at her mum for a few moments, before pouting and slouched her head with a compliant nodding. Heather softened her face and sighed deeply.

She crouched before the 8-year-old, reaching her gloved hand and softly holding her sagging head by her chin. Eliza’s eyes still gazed at the floor, however.

“Lizzy, darling…You know I care about your comfort more than anything else but, we’re here for a reason. I need you to behave for me, dear.”

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“Can you do that for me, love?”

Eliza bit her lip, “Mhm…” she slowly nodded her head.

Mrs. Mulberry smiled, although it wasn’t visible from her void face, “Atta’ girl.” her yellow eye arched north to express her warm visage.

Mrs. Mulberry stood back up, her impressive height casting a heavy shadow over the small child. She quietly offered her gloved hand to her daughter. Eliza hesitated for a moment, glancing up at her smiling, welcoming as always. Just like that, she felt comforted, albeit still upset she had to be here, and beamed up at her.

Elizabeth was uncomfortable being here and her parent could tell, but she’d do her best for her mom. Eliza placed the nub of her arm in her hand, the far-too-long sleeve hanging as her mother lovingly grabbed the end of her limb.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get you those shoes~”

Elizabeth didn’t respond and soon, the duo completed the journey to the revolving glass doors and entered the quaint, but elegant shop.

…

The establishment was very stylish looking. Shiny auburn wood planks lined the place beneath their feet. It was so shiny in fact, that Eliza could see her own, wobbly reflection. The ceiling was not very tall but still accommodated her mother.

It had chandeliers hung in every crevice of the store, sunbathing the single-roomed shop in its warm gleam. The aisles were tall, taller than her mother, and were lined with endless amounts of shoes, ranging from women's heels to children’s shoes.

The shop, L’Femme Paradis, as the name suggested, was directed primarily at girls and women. And the shoes weren’t cheap either! From what Elizabeth could see around her, all the customers were women and girls, save for a few boys.

They were scattered about the area’s floor and based on their fine gowns and extravagant hats, came from luxury, rich nobles just like her.

Elizabeth had parted ways with Heather with the excuse of looking for shoes to wear, in reality, she wanted to explore. Standing and listening to her mother gush about another pair she found was something she couldn’t bear to experience again.

‘I don’t belong here.’

That recurring thought shouted in the foretops of her mind. It tolerated her feeble tries to ignore it for a while, only for it to take over her line of thinking. She groaned frustratedly, finally accepting the uncomfortable aura this place radiated.

It was true, she couldn’t help but feel out of place in here. It was probably because she never left her home for any reason other than school, but the people here were…questionable, to say the least.

From what she eavesdropped, as she thoughtlessly looked up the mighty shelves, the women were shamelessly rude. One flamboyant lady, instead of helping, scolded her accompanying maids if they dropped a box. It was even more impressive that they only dropped one. The stacks they carried were dangerously high, almost near touching the ceiling.

It made Lizzy sad that they were spoken to so badly. She even saw a poor woman, an elder lady, on the verge of tears after being verbally lashed out at. Her employer, fan in hand, fanned her face and stormed past her, nearly knocking her over. But the two made eye contact when she passed.

The little girl’s sorrow-filled eyes reached into hers. The older one stopped to give her a weak smile, despite her leaking tears. She followed her employer in tow, in line with two other similarly dressed ladies. But they were much younger than her.

Elizabeth smiled bittersweetly to herself, that woman’s smile was what she liked to do the most. A trait inherited by her mom. She stopped and slid to the floor, leaning against the shelf. It was only the elite academy she attended and her mansion she knew intimately.

The Mulberry property was large enough for her and she had plenty of things to do while there, so why leave? She liked it that way. When it’s just her Ernie and Maxie, life is fun and simple.

But her lifestyle left her with a bit of a hole in her heart; Elizabeth had no friends. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she had her cute doggy and even cuter little brother as company. Along with that, an endless group of staff who were trained to entertain her. Seeing the same people every day never got to her, but a change in routine would surely be lovely.

Thoughts like these hardly seeped into her life, but when not playing in her home, her chance to retrospect always brought up the concept of just that; a new friend. What has kept that idea down for so long was seeing the way people treated others.

Eliza was afraid she would be subjected to that treatment and the thought of it only made her want to cry. She sniffled. The people in her class bored her, their only defining feature was that they were rich like her but pompous like everyone else.

Sometimes, there was the rare little boy or girl who accompanied their parents to one of her mom’s social events hosted at their mansion and they’d have a grand time together. But it never escalated into something more, a “one-time playdate”, a phrase coined by her staff.

Someone to fill that hole would be nice.

Funnily enough, Eliza had already come across someone she thought would fit in her fantasies just perfectly. She’d been in the back of her mind since she first laid eyes on her.

She was a girl like her and really pretty. She wore a puffy red dress, had locks of curly blond hair pulled into ponytails, and cute red ribbons on both sides of her head. Her hand held a similarly colored, red parasol.

From what Elizabeth could see on the end of the aisle, where it broke off into a walkway, the wall was also lined with shoes.

There stood the girl and her mom. She attempted to make her gawking and eavesdropping not so obvious, hiding her face against the wooden structure of the tall shelves.

She had a fetching laugh and spoke nicely to her mother, a nice change in pace from the honest-to-god brats children that bossed their mother around like a dog.

Eliza thought about what might happen to her if she talked to her mother in that tone. She immediately cringed to herself. Speaking of her mother, she was shopping in the aisle just next to her, unknown to Elizabeth that is.

Mrs. Mulberry turned the corner into the next row, nearly stepping on her daughter in the process, who was still seated on the ground. She gasped in surprise. The 10 boxes in her hands had their foundation shake before falling back into place smoothly after much squirming.

Elizabeth nearly didn’t realize it was her mother until she looked up and cringed even harder like the sourest lemon was plopped in her mouth. The number of boxes she carried had her appalled.

“Goodness Elizabeth, what are you doing on the floor?” Mrs. Mulberry exclaimed, exasperated.

“I was just looking around and then sat here,” said Eliza, now standing and motioning to her former spot on the glossy surface.

“Ah well, did you find anything you’d like to try on?” Heather perked up at the news of her daughter’s store exploration.

Uh oh. She had completely forgotten to do that, having spent the majority of her time wandering. And giggling at some of the ridiculous designs she saw on the shoes. Eliza decided to stop laughing when she got a couple of frowns from the employees. She couldn’t help it, they were just too funny.

Heather’s eyes thinned suspiciously. “Lizzy, you did find something, right? I didn’t let you out my sight for no reason…”

“Uhhhh…” Elizabeth didn’t want to be exposed for lying, so grabbed a random pair off the shelf and presented it to her mother. “I found these.”

Heather’s single golden eye arched up, indicating a smile. “That’s excellent, love. Let’s go try them on.” Her mom waltzed past her, carrying the stupid amount of merchandise with ease. Eliza, out of sight, rolled her eyes, knowing that the hardest part of shopping was about to begin.

.

.

.

.

.

“Eliza, dear,” Her mother stared, deadpan. “This pair is 5 sizes too big.”

Elizabeth was sitting on a shoe bench, no longer wearing her heels, her mother yet again crouched beside her with the boxes scattered next to them. The girl’s shoes were missing, showing off her stripy stockings to their fullest.

Her arms were crossed and the British child was looking away, her lips pulled in a somewhat guilty expression. A soft sigh rocked the older Brit’s shoulders and Eliza immediately knew she had disappointed her.

“Lizzy, why did you ask me to explore if you didn’t want to find anything?”

She knew the answer but knew that honesty would break her mother’s heart. Elizabeth, hated, absolutely loathed shopping for clothes. It was a tedious task that got under her skin and made her pouty and grumpy. How she behaved while clothes shopping was a stark contrast to who she was.

Elizabeth would do anything to share her mother’s enthusiasm, but just couldn’t. The answer was written all over her face; Eliza was bored. The mother’s eyes furrowed in retrospection, she knew her daughter didn’t like trips like these, but the two weren’t here for fun today.

Eliza’s shoes were worn and needed to be replaced; which included her daughter’s favorite heels, a grey-blue pair of heels. She was honest about it while at home and needless to say, she wasn’t very happy. It required a promise of a double helping of ice cream after supper to get her out into the carriage. But she grimaced the whole way there.

They generally shared a lot of interests, piano, fencing, playing games, and…

Playing games, of course. She suddenly had a curious, burst of genius, that made her surprise herself that she hadn’t thought of it before. But in this public space, Heather would have to be a bit more discreet. Her daughter could get pretty loud, so she would have to be increasingly gentle for this to work.

In one smooth motion, the tall Brit gently grasped her daughter’s ankle, her other hand promptly beginning to skitter the bottom of her foot softly.

Eliza yelped, jumping in her seat before the most adorable giggles began to pour out of her. Heather smiled to herself upon hearing them, it was a lovely break from her daughter’s grumpy attitude.

“M-mohohom! What are you- ehehehe- d-dohohoing?” Elizabeth giggled frantically. As Mrs. Mulberry predicted, she’d start squirming. In an instant, Eliza felt her legs freeze in place like they had been frozen in a block of ice, which left her poor feet at the mercy of her mother.

She knew what this was and bitterly shouted, “D-don’t use your mahahagic on mehehe!” a new wave of laughter came from her as she scritched the sole of her foot.

Mrs. Mulberry swallowed back a tease, instead, keeping her face cool as a cucumber, sporting an almost professional demeanor.

“Why all the giggles, dear? Is something funny?” She asked with feigned concern, a hint of a coo laced her tone.

She blushed and quickly shook her head, her laughter unabated.

“Oh well, let’s move on to the next pair.”

Mrs. Mulberry halted her wiggling fingers, giving her daughter a break, smiling a bit upon hearing her gentle pants. She grabbed another box and opened it.

The pair was a pastel pink ankle strap children’s heels, Heather unbuckled the strap and placed the heel on Elizabeth’s foot; she noticeably left her outstretched leg shoeless.

“How does that feel?”

“I-it feels alright- h-hey! Hehehehe!”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, as her mother was back at it again, wiggling her fingertips all over her sole. Elizabeth couldn’t move a single inch from the waist down, not even being able to curl her toes in resistance, so she was forced to endure it.

Eliza’s belly shook with laughter, her waist twisting her torso despite her unmoving legs. The state of them was quite bizarre in fact; she couldn’t move them, but gravity didn’t seem to have a hold on her legs either. Her mother could bend or outstretch her leg and it wouldn’t fall.

This was only made aware to her when Mrs. Mulberry outstretched her leg forward and began to scrabble her clothed, neat nails on the fleshy bed that was the back of her knee.

She loudly squealed. The tickling stopped. And so did the action in the shop. Elizabeth felt the air freeze the moment her scream rang out. How could she be so careless? She was in public after all, but Eliza, along with Mrs. Mulberry was completely alone in this section of the store.

They were at one of the ends of the long wooden corridors that were shelves, Lizzy’s shoe bench was pressed up against its narrow width, conveniently placed for those who shopped and immediately had a seat to go to.

The seats were placed at every other shelf, which was made consciously apparent when she saw a figure through the gaps of several shelves stop and slowly make its way to the end.

The figure peeked over, a middle-aged woman, wearing an exuberant hat. Her scarlet petticoat made itself aware before her face did, a very confused and rather perturbed expression.

Elizabeth was staring at her, the women stared back. And her mother had quickly joined the stare-down. The room was silent before Eliza squeaked again, looking down horrified that her mother touched the back of her knee.

A warning for what was to come. She turned back to her daughter, an invisible smile stretched wide over her stygian face as continued to tickle the back of her knee.

“Coochie coochie coo~” She sang, clearly putting up a show for the woman watching. Like lightwork, her magic sparked up. A cyan cloud burst from nowhere and out of the wispy and sparkly residue of the cloud came two, blackened disembodied hands. Ones she could control freely as if they were attached to her arms.

The moment they spawned, the fingers were twitching and squirming, quite literally mirthful as their “body” was tormented by tickles. Eliza did the best that she could to control her hands and managed to clamp them on her mother’s shoulders.

Her fingers dug into the purple fabric of her shoulder pads and pulled, but her tugging was weakened by her endured giggles.

The woman who was gently staring, chuckled softly at the sight and returned behind the shelf. She was so embarrassed, her already flushed face warmed up even more knowing a stranger just saw her being tickled. Let alone tease her!

“Mahahahmuhaha! People are lohohoking!” She softly squealed, wiggling in her seat.

“I agree, darling. After all, your shoes are quite fetching!” Heather hummed.

“Thahat’s not whahat I meant!”

“Then what did you mean, sweetheart?” Her invisible smile stretched slightly.

Elizabeth laughter was her response.

“Ah I see, how interesting~”

Mrs. Mulberry stopped to grab one of the spectral hands clasped on her shoulder and took it gently into her palm. They were nearly as large as her hands, the long phalanges twitched in recovery.

With a single forefinger, she tranced a gentle line from the base of her middle finger, along the palm, and to the wrist. Eliza squeaked, somewhat alarmed giggles spilling out.

“Mohohom?! What are you d-dohoing?”

She responded curtly. “Nothing, darling.”

Heather's fingers wrapped hers around her daughters, caging them gently but firmly. Her thumb did the same to her child’s, pulling the charcoal skin taut. She repeated her actions from before, tracing a forefinger along the much more tender flesh.

Her face brightened with amusement at the happy noises her child was making. Lizzy’s laughter only increased when her mother traced slow, soft circles at the palm of her hand.

Her body screamed at her to move her lower half, to kick out and thrash. Just something to make her cope with the unbearable sensations, “Nohoohooho, m-mahahamuh!” Eliza has always had sensitive hands but to the point of ticklishness? Utterly ludicrous. But her mother would believe otherwise, as her unseen smile sat at a stretch and satisfied smirk.

Suddenly, she picked up the pace and her elegant tracing turned to merciless skittering, titillating off her flesh like a feather at an exquisite speed. Heather gently scratched at the very center and slowly outlined the creases, which boded lovely squeaks out of her sweet daughter.

Eliza giggled a lovely “Mehehercy!”, her cheeks now a precious shade of pink. Her uncontrollable laughter hitched and dipped at random intervals, she couldn’t handle the fiery trails traveling her tender palms. Which was made obvious by her fruitless squirming.

“Hahaha!”

Elizabeth heard a hearty chuckle coming from her left. She managed to open her scrunched-up eyes just a bit to see a young woman, holding a cyan parasol and sporting an elegant white dress. She was cracking up, as were her children, two girls, and a boy, all wearing similarly colored clothes.

“She’s so cute!” The girl with short hair blurted out.

She blushed furiously, despite already having a flushed face. It was miraculously Eliza was able to burn up more. Couldn’t they mind their own business?!

“Come now children!” Their mother said, still sniggering, “We mustn't stare. Come now, come!” she motioned them forward for them to follow her with the wag of her gloved hand.

“Yes, mother!” They exclaimed energetically.

They bounced along in front of her, shooting her playful and warm looks. A train of giggles filled her ears as they passed and quieted down the farther they got from her…

Before they could disappear in another aisle, the mother turned around. The parasol shadowed her face, but Elizabeth could still make out a large smirk on her face. She smooched the pads of her fingers and blew a kiss aimed at the small child.

Elizabeth was floored and looked away as soon as she did. Her free hand was trying to smother her lovely pink face, which only muffled her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww…” The woman kissed her lips and cooed at the delightful scene before her. The lady with the parasol turned on her heel and continued with her rowdy bunch, who were crying out for their mother to follow them at this point.

Mrs. Mulberry chuckled heartily and stopped tickling her daughter. Lizzy’s hand was released from its restraint but lingered in her grasp as Mrs. Mulberry readjusted her hand. She now had the hand in hers and her mother was lovingly brushing her thumb over the knuckles.

“So cute…” the uttered gently, so soft in fact, Lizzy didn’t hear.

Mrs. Mulberry leaned over and pressed a tender kiss on the middle knuckle. This spawned a succession of gentle kisses, which took Eliza by surprise.

“My sweet little princess…”

Elizabeth smiled at the nouveau nickname, expressing this with a flustered giggle. If her happiness gave her the ability to swing her legs, Eliza would. The kisses explored each of her knuckles, her invisible lips slowly pressing up against the hard bone. She took her time to peck the pads of her fingers and smooched the bones of her fingers.

She flipped over her hand, palm up. Heather pressed a loud, tender smooch on the palm, which made Eliza spaz and laugh a little harder at the ticklish sensation. “Mohohommy! Nohoho!”

Heather didn’t come back after her, only smiling as she pulled back her hands. Heather’s eyes crinkled, signaling her present smile, which would have been a comfort if she hadn’t grabbed her leg again.

“W-wait!”

She bent her leg forward and let go, leaving it in its stuck position mid-air like she was some sort of puppet. Before she could say anything, Heather squeezed her thigh, nothing short of a squeal came out. All her attempts at talking voided in an instant, and belligerent laughter sputtered out of her.

She even snorted a couple of times, which made Mrs. Mulberry laugh. She was plucking and squeezing her thighs like she was clumping off chunks of dough, using both hands on both thighs.

Heather traveled her squeezing up to her hips and pinched the divots briefly, which got a delicious squeal out of her daughter.

“N-NOHOHOHO!” She cried, her mirth right now outsounded when Heather got to her toes. She’s found a new sweet spot and would dare to take advantage of it. Mrs. Mulberry pressed her thumbs into the divots and kneaded the flesh like a ticking clock.

“Poor baby…” Her coo went unheard as her child’s cackles overshadowed the woman’s tease. The elder Mulberry’s heart was close to bursting out of her chest, she’d never seen this sweet summer child laugh so hard.

She slowed down her tickling to a stop, allowing her daughter to catch her breath.

Once she did, her mother didn’t stop. Instead, she, again, scribbled wildly on the bottom of her foot, doing her the most to make sure her daughter squealed. And she did, Elizabeth hiccuped as she laughed joyously. Heather smiled at the sound of her daughter’s belly laughter.

“Hm…what else should you wear?” Her casual manner was driving her insane.

“N-nothihihing!” She cried, her laughter much squeakier than before.

“Oh, I swear Elizabeth…” Heather hummed. “What is so ridiculous about these shoes?”

“Whahat do you mehehean?”

“You laughed at all these poor shoes in the shop so much, they must feel bad about themselves now~”

“Hehehehe! Stop it, mohohom!” Lizzy giggled helplessly, the joke being played on her would have her pouting if it weren’t for the tickling. But thankfully, the scribbling slowed down to teasy tracing. The gloved hand mimicked the shape of her sole, Heather danced and traced the outline of the heart-shaped paw bean.

“Maybe you want to say “sorry for laughing at you” to these poor things?” Her pace picked up to gentle scribbles.

Through her titters, her daughter shook her head, “N-never!” she exclaimed defiantly.

“No? Hm…” Her mother began to let out pseudo-hums of contemplation, rubbing the bottom of her chin with her free hand.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth did her best to release herself of her loving mother’s magical restraint, but as she’s tried before, nothing worked. No matter how much she budged, Elizabeth could not escape. Which only added more butterflies to the swarming anticipation in her belly at the moment.

“How about this?”

Her mother pinched and began to wiggle around her pinkie toe, which caused her daughter to squeal quite delightfully.

“There are ten shoes left, just like you have ten toes.” She remarked. “Apologize to each one and I’ll move on to the next one. But be quick about it, or you’ll surely regret it.” The sinister hum in her tone was all that it took for Elizabeth to stay alert, but hysterical. Eliza could hardly say a word, her toes were deviously ticklish after all.

“Don’t you have something to say, darling?”

“Ahahaha! S-sahahahary!” Her howling made her tummy tremble to that of a mighty earthquake.

A smug satisfaction washed over Mrs. Mulberry, “Good girl~” her praise just about oozed with mischief.

The gloved fingers moved to tickle the other toe next in line, inspiring the British child to cry out in tearful mirth. “Kitchykitchykitchykoo” Her mother teased, her voice in a whisper so only her daughter could hear her taunts.

Elizabeth shook her head to distract herself from the rude mockery. Heather only laughed in response. “Did you really think I’d forget how ticklish these little things were?” She chuckled again, wiggling the toe in tandem. “You never fail to make me laugh, dearest…”

Her daughter merely giggled.

For the next few minutes, Mrs. Mulberry teased each digit with her flawless scribbling, not offering a smidgen of mercy for her child. Her dearest Lizzy was in tears at this point, her cheeks bathed in shades of pink and red.

The shop patrons were aware of what was going on at this point, with whispers flying about the women about the odd woman tickling her daughter. None could deny how the British child’s saccharine laughter warmed their hearts and made their shopping trip all the more pleasant.

Some “conveniently” needed to shop nearby and aw’d at the sight. Some children mimicked Lizzy’s laughter before running off. Even the old woman from before was passing by, no longer crying and wearing a wrinkly smile at the spectacle. In the back of her mind, she was reminded of her grandchildren and their darling laughter.

Elizabeth didn’t remember when her mother stopped, she was too stuck in her euphoria to notice. She only did when she felt the welcoming sensation of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I believe that’s enough for you, dearest…”

She panted, residual hiccups and giggles spilling out, a sleepy smile graced her face from laughing so hard. Her mother lovingly pressed extra tender kisses right on her cheek and forehead.

The magic ceased and she was free to move her legs once again. Heather collected the scatter boxes into two towers, one held in each hand. Before that, her mother kindly placed her default heels back on. Not without wiggling her fingers against her to get a few extra giggles, that is.

“I’m going to go buy these, stay put, sweetheart~”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to disobey, as fatigue already sank deep in her youthful flesh. She had recovered her breath, but the buzzing warmth still lingered in her chest like a blooming flower.

She couldn’t help but start to giggle a little, not from any phantom tickling, but just how funny it all was. Soft, squeaky snickering effortlessly escaped, the swing of her legs picking up to match her amusement.

“That was so cute…”

There was a soft voice that came from her far left. She opened her eyes to see who it was and her eyes widened. It was the pretty girl from earlier, the one with the red dress and golden hair.

Eliza blushed as she approached, still captivated by her beauty. Her demeanor was shy, as she kept her hands cusped together by her front. But her sparkling blue eyes maintained eye contact with hers.

The red-wearer’s smile stretched as she halted beside her, “W-what’s your name?” she stammered softly.

“Elizabeth.” Her lips moved before her brain could.

“That’s such a pretty name!” she mused excitedly, clasping her hands together over her heart. “M-my name is Cadence! I really like your laugh!”

Cadence went as crimson as her petticoat and pressed her hand over her mouth. Her gentle voice had gotten loud out of nowhere. Elizabeth smiled widely at her. “And I really like your dress!” Lizzy exclaimed, just as loudly.

The flustered girl paused for a second and brightened. “And I- and I l-like your hat!” Even louder. The British children took turns to one-up each other's volume, raising their voices louder and louder with each compliment exchanged between one another.

Now, the shoppers were even more confused, first laughing, now shouting? The women exchanged odd glances at one another, sharing their mutual perplexity. Cadence’s mother was blissfully unaware of what was going on, trying on dresses in the changing chambers. Elizabeth’s mother could hear them loud and clear with the clerk.

She chuckled “A new friend, Elizabeth?” she exclaimed amusedly under her breath. She was due to make a new companion anyway.

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Fin~

[creation-help]

A special kind of intimacy between characters

[Not restricted to romantic dynamics!]

- I tear bread into smaller pieces to feed them to you, as if I am Jesus, or a mother bird. You may view me as a savior but I would kill for you

- Being there for the other person when they're sick - In a gross, disgusting way. Holding them unwaveringly through the wretched and repulsive, unflinchingly. Don't apologise, just survive. I'd do it again.

- You're scary, but I'm scarier. You don't know that yet, but I hope you won't fear me when you do.

- You're scary, and thank God for that. I'm more than happy to close my eyes when you use it on others. I am a coward.

- One character knowing exactly what the other one would really like to ask for, but is too self conscious or selfless to. Thus, they do it and provide, without the other person needing to outright request it. The self conscious character always makes sure the other one knows it's not obligated and they're always free to decline, and the other one nods firmly, knowing that, and still doing it.

- Sitting next to each other at the end of the world. Because it won't be okay. But they've accepted that

- "You destroyed the thing I love and I can't forgive you for it." "I can't forgive myself either." "I still can't hate you despite that." "I can."

- "Please hate me" "No."

- One character understanding when the other is in too low of a state to act like a decent person currently, and so they don't step over those lines that they'd normally tolerate. The first character holds the other one responsible for things later nonetheless, when they're able to actually carry it

- Two characters sharing the negative perceptions and opinions they've had of each other over the years. This can either lead to a realization that, respectfully, out of deep understanding of each other, they decide to not stay in touch with each other again from now on. Or, it can lead to a realization that thanks to this understanding they now have, they're more ready to become closer and have managed to clear the air with this conversation

- Characters of notably different ages talk and reflect on time that has passed between them. They feel a connection over how different their circumstances were. The younger one audibly wishes they could've done or changed something significant, to which the older character pointedly and gently tells them it wasn't their place to. Let us old crooks handle the tough things. (It wasn't your fault you spent formative years like this. I'm sorry you had to)

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 189 }

marry me.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ i am standing in the line while holding confetti | i see the girl of my dream is smiling like the sun | in her wedding dress… }

you felt butterflies fluttering all around your stomach, your gaze honed in to your reflection as you could see the brilliance of your white wedding gown cascading down your form.

you smile at your features in the mirror, feeling like a goddess as your heart soared at the thought of seeing your groom-

of finally being able to share the rest of your life with him.

you continue to admire your reflection and place the thin veil across your features when a series of knocks was heard coming from the door. you allow the person to enter, seeing your father’s smiling face. he takes a moment to breathe, basking in the beauty of his little girl on her big day.

“you look beautiful, honey, too beautiful for words to describe.” your father ends up taking you within his embrace, allowing you to fall against him as you felt the tears well up within your eyes.

“ah, dad, stop, you’re gonna make me cry and ruin my makeup.” you tried to hold back your tears, but was unable to stop the few droplets that fall while sliding down your cheek.

“i’m sorry.” your father chuckles before lifting your veil once more, apologizing to you over and over again while wiping away your tears. he gently coos at you, whispering comforting words while waiting for your tears to slow down before placing the veil back over your features, “come, your future waits for you.”

you nod and take a hold of his hand, allowing him to finally walk you down the aisle. gentle music begins to play when you arrive amidst the chapel, with the crowd falling silent at your arrival. gorgeous bouquets surrounded the area as you step across the floors leading you to your future husband.

your breathing was hitched, seeing jinwoo dressed to perfection in a pristine suit. his grey eyes never left your form, seeming to water as they eagerly drank in the sight of you. and you weren’t faring any better either, feeling even more tears falling down your face as your father walked you toward jinwoo.

your father’s blessing and utter respect he held for jinwoo was seen shining in his gaze when he allows your fiancé to take a hold of your hand, returning to one of the benches as he sat beside your mother.

with you settled beside jinwoo, you allow him to take a hold of your veil, revealing your smiling (but crying) face to him. with a loving smile, jinwoo takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. with the priest settled in front of you, he begins the ceremony, speaking of how your lives were now forever intertwined. when it was time for you and jinwoo to recite your written vows, you allowed jinwoo to speak first since you needed a moment to calm down your racing heart and stop the tears from streaming down your face.

jinwoo begins by stating your name in a reverent manner, grey eyes shining with absolute and utter adoration for you before starting to speak, “you were with me since the beginning. never once did you demean or insult me when i was once known as the weakest hunter in the world. instead, you stuck by me and always, always did everything in your power to support me and remain by my side. that was the moment i knew that you were my forever, and i honestly couldn’t have asked for a better soulmate… i love you.”

at the end of his vows, you were a blubbering mess, unable to dry your tears while shakily telling him your own vows, “sung jinwoo, what i feel for y-you has and always will be an u-unconditional type of love. you mean more to me than all the riches in the world, a-and i want you to know that you never have to be anything other than who you truly are… to me, you’re not the world’s strongest hunter, but simply my beloved jinwoo, the man i will love for forever and a day.”

jinwoo’s breath was heard hitching the tiniest bit when the priest finishes the ceremony. “sung jinwoo, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? do promise to love and cherish her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her for so long as you both shall live?”

“i do.” jinwoo’s voice rang strong and true as you smiled back at him.

the priest states the same words to you, and you answer with your own resounding, “i do.”

“by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you husband and wife! you may now kiss the bride!”

“finally.” jinwoo was heard letting out a whisper of desperation, his large hand coming around the back of your head before crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss that was meant to convey his promises of forever with you.

and with your family and friends cheering on for yours and jinwoo’s union, you felt your heart become alight with pure joy, ready to spend the rest of your days with sung jinwoo.

a.n. - i have a bit of a writers block for the hubby, so have a cute wedding drabble instead 😭 also i know this is such an american wedding,,, but like im not well versed in korean weddings so play along with me okay???

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.