#So I think it's safe to say I should be allowed to cry over this but for some reason I don't think I am?

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Prologue)

Contains: no warnings

Wordcount: ~4.12k

Masterlist of this story

96 AC

The child in her arms just wouldn't stop crying and Aemma desperately cradled her back and forth.

"Shhh my love.", she purred and kissed the babe on her forehead. "Shh, sweetling, you are fine."

The young mother was overstrained with her two children and now one of the wet nurses was sick with the fever and her sweet Maera just wouldn't stop crying. 'If only Viserys was there.', she thought.

Not that he could fix it but everything would be easier. But no, he was busy with the small council and in the evening would probably celebrate and feast in honor of his guests and Aemma would be on her own with their daughter again.

Croaked cries and shouts left Maera's throat repeatedly and her mother thoughtfully walked from her bed to the table and then back again. She had a thought in her mind. One that Viserys wouldn't approve of but it was a tempting one. Aemma sighed. She knew that she would upset her husband once he would learn of what she was about to do but it didn't really matter to her. Right now all she wanted was to calm her daughter and not listen to her complaints another second so the young mother left her chambers and found what, or better who she had been looking for in his own chambers.

Daemon Targaryen sat on a chair, his head lowered in front of a book and his hands resting on his forehead. He was highly concentrated and didn't even notice his sister by law until Maera let out another cry. Daemon lifted his head and a slight smirk appeared on his face.

"Aemma.", he said.

She walked torwards him and exhaled loudly. "Daemon, please, could you take her? The last time that you did Maera was so much more calm and content and it's just too much sometimes with Viserys being barely here and…"

The prince interrupted her by getting off the chair and nodding understandingly.

"It's alright. Of course I can take her."

He reached out to take the little babe from Aemma's arms and held her in his while slowly rocking her. She had previously still cried but only in a matter of moments did her weeping fade and soon she just sniffed in his arms. Her mother smiled relieved and let out a scoff.

"How do you do it, Daemon? Why is she at calm with you?"

In response he shrugged and didn't take his eyes off his niece.

"I don't know." He ran his thumb over her cheek to remove a tear. "You just needed your uncle, little one, mhm?"

He felt strongly protective over the little girl in his arms. The way her eyes twitched and how she grabbed his finger with the whole of her hand. She, his little niece, actually meant a lot to him and he couldn't hide the honest smile creeping up on his face. Daemon and Aemma laughed as Maera sneezed and then the queen sank down on a chair.

"Oh thank you, Daemon. You've done me a great favor. Do you mind taking her until the evening?", she asked carefully.

"Of course not, sister. She'll be safe with me."

~~~~~~~~~~

A little later Aemma entered her chambers, her daughter now in her own arms again. She had expected to be welcomed by an empty room but her husband stood in the middle of the room and had just taken a sip from his wine. Aemma raised her eyebrows and approached him to give him a kiss on his cheek.

"Husband. I thought you were occupied with feasting with the Velaryons."

"Later. I think a king should be allowed to have some time with his wife and daughter, shouldn't he?"

Aemma smiled softly and watched as Viserys took his daughter from her arms and lifted her in the air.

"I feel like she's growing every day.", he mumbled and his wife couldn't stop herself from saying her next words.

"That's because you're rarely with her and me."

The king turned to her at once, a shocked expression on his face. "What are you saying?"

Aemma crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Forgive me. It's just a lot sometimes. You know that Isyla is sick with the fever and sometimes Maera just doesn't stop crying. I don't know what to do then."

Her husband sighed and ran a hand over his daughter's head.

"I know. And I'm sorry that I can't be with you more. But I'm king and I have duties. I can't just stay in our chambers all afternoon and care for you and her."

Aemma nodded and stared at the floor. "I know. Of course I don't expect it. I just…" She didn't finish her sentence which made her husband lift one of his eyebrows.

"You just…?"

She dropped her shoulders and closed her eyes.

"Viserys… I wished you wouldn't get so mad when I give our daughter to your brother."

The king frowned. "What do you mean?", he asked sounding suspicious.

"Well… Today was especially bad. Maera cried and wept and kicked with her feet and it was so bad that I-I thought perhaps she would be more calm when Daemon holds her. And I know that you don't like it and I'm really sorry, but I came to him and from the second that he held her in his arms, Maera was quiet like a tamed kitten. It's truly magnificant, my love."

Viserys had a bitter expression on his face and his jaw was tense. And then he glared at his wife.

"You know that I don't like it."

"Yes. But I don't know why."

The king gave the babe to his wife again and walked back and forth in the room.

"Because my brother is dangerous and unpredictable. I'm meant to trust him with my only daughter?"

Aemma shook her head. "Daemon is 15. He is merely a child himself. And I can see it, he loves Maera. If you would simply open your eyes for once you could see it as well. Do you think he would, I don't know, murder his niece?"

Viserys exhaled annoyed. "No of course not. But I'm just careful, alright? I know him better than you do and I know that he can be a mess. He can do terrible things, Aemma."

She laughed out. "Not to his niece, love. Please just… Please allow me to go to him at times. It's a great relief for me to have a moment of silene. And then there is also Aegon. Sometimes I don't even have time for him when Maera is shouting all the time and I'd hate to neglect him."

Viserys was quiet for a few seconds but then chewed on his buttom lip.

"I don't like it.", he growled.

Aemma begged him with his eyes and pleadingly enclosed his hand with hers.

"Fine. But only when there is no other choice."

She quickly nodded and felt a weight dropping from her heart.

101 AC  

The wind messed up her hair but no part of her cared. She had never flown so fast, she was certain. Daemon had taken her on Caraxes so many times but never that fast.

"Wuhuuu.", she screamed and tightly held on to her uncle as he guided his dragon through the crystal clear sky. It was a hot day with the sun burning down on King's Landing but up here with the wind it was the perfect feeling.

"How about a dive, little one?", Daemon asked her turning his head to her and Maera excitedly shifted on Caraxes' back.

"Yeahhh. Please, I want to go faster."

Her uncle chuckled lightly and then pulled at the ropes to make his dragon dive down towards the blue of the sea. The sun reflecting in it became brighter the closer they flew but then just when Caraxes was about to hit the water Daemon pulled him back and they lifted into the air again. Maera screamed and her hands dug into her uncle's shoulders. "Oh gods!!!"

Thirty minutes later Maera was sulking as her unlce swang himself off his dragon's back. She had tried everything to convince Daemon to fly a little longer but he had told her that her father would be very angry if she didn't return soon and no matter how hard the girl had complained, he hadn't given in.

"I'm sorry, little one.", he had said and led Caraxes back to the dragon pit.

Now he stood on the ground and heaved Maera through the air until she was standing on her feet on the muddy ground.

"I don't want to go back, uncle. Everything is so stupid here and on Caraxes it's so nice."

She had taken the sleeve of her uncle's tunic and pulled at it while her mouth still formed a pout. In response Daemon grabbed her under her arms and lifted her. He carried her towards the red keep while the frown on her face didn't vanish and Maera sucked on her thumb, just like she had always done when she was upset or sad.

"We can take another ride on Caraxes soon, sweet niece. But now it's time for supper and then bed."

"I'm not hungry. And I'm not tired.", she answered. Daemon sighed.

"You're a stubborn little thing. I promise you, we can go again tomorrow."

Maera's face softened a little and she put the hair out of her face. "Will you play with me later? Please uncle, it's no fun with Aegon, he always steals my toys saying I have the better ones."

Daemon smirked while walking the two of them up the stairs to the throne room.

"Yes, love, I will. But don't forget your high valyrian lessons. We'll make it an hour but if you behave very well maybe 45 minutes will be enough."

His niece nodded eagerly and rested her head on Daemon's shoulder. "Sȳz." (Fine), she smiled proudly which made her uncle smile as well.

"Olvie sȳz." (Very good)

~~~~~~~~~~

"Se zaldrīzes zāle…."

"Zalagon.", corrected Daemon.

"Zalagon.", Maera repeated. "Oh uncle, please. I don't want to anymore. I don't want to learn it and I don't want to learn about stupid history with septa Julvra and how to hold my stupid fork."

Maera sat on his lap but relentlessly shifted because she had grown tired of this and rather wanted to play with him.

"You have to, niece. You have to learn the language of your ancestors and you have to learn these kinds of things so one day you'll be a noblewoman of court and can marry a noble man."

The girl pouted at him and poked her uncle in his cheek.

"I want to marry you, uncle. Not a stupid lord."

He chuckled quietly and stroke her hair back but then turned her head towards the book opened in front of them on the table.

"Read, little one. You know that word already."

But Maera was tired and annoyed and shook her head. "Please uncle. Please, can we play now?"

Daemon sighed deeply and gently grabbed her shoulders. "Three more sentences, alright? Then we can play."

She giggled excitedly and read the following words with a new determination.

108 AC

Maera turned her head from one side to the other, humming some familiar melody to herself while feeling the sun tingling on her skin. She loved that feeling and then stretched her body with relish.

She still had her eyes closed when she heard the door open and someone enter her chambers. Only when the steps had stopped in front of her did the girl slowly open her eyes and recognized her handmaiden in front of her.

"Princess. Your lord father demands your presence in his rooms."

Maera yawned open-mouthed. "Mhmm."

But she obeyed and drunk on sleep got off her bed. She let her maids brush and braid her hair, put on a light gown and then followed her handmaiden down to her father's chambers.

Once inside she sat down on a chair while watching Viserys write something on a piece of parchment. She boringly dangled her legs waiting for him to finally tell her why he had asked her to come to speak to him and then he finally put down the quill and gave her his attention.

"Daughter. I wish to speak to you about your brother's upcoming name day."

"What of it?"

The king smiled kindly. "I want to know what you think Aegon likes more. Chocolate cake or lemon cake?"

Maera smiled widely. "Lemon cake. Definitely."

Her father chuckled. "Are you sure? Or are just saying this because it is what you prefer?" She giggled but shook her head.

"No. Aegon prefers it as well. I know it."

Viserys remained suspicious but nodded while tidying up his desk. "I shall believe you then. What are your plans for today, daughter?"

The girl thoughfully put her finger to her lips.

"Mhmm, I want to go to the gardens to pluck some strawberries. Septa Julvra told me I am to wait until the summer so they are ripe and sweet and I think it's time now."

Her father nodded. "That sounds lovely. Take your brother with you, please. I think he needs a bit of sun."

But Maera rolled her eyes. "He would not come with me anyway. He's only ever interested in studying his books and he always ignores me."

"He's 15. I think every boy and girl is a little reserved at that age."

Viserys stood up and walked to a shelf nearby. While sorting some letters he turned his head to talk to his daughter.

"You can go to the gardens but only…. If you'll bring me some of those delicious strawberries as well."

Maera smiled and took it as her sign to stand up and leave to follow her plans.

~~~~~~~~~~

One by one did Maera take the strawberries and let them fall into her basket. She couldn't help but almost accidentally let one slip into her mouth now and then because they just tasted too good in her mouth.

It was a warm morning and she knew it would be an even warmer midday so she was determined to do this before noon so she wouldn't melt in the sun. Suddenly Maera heard a noise behind her and when she turned around it was Daemon who observed her smugly.

"Uncle.", she said excitedly and handed him a strawberry she had just cut down. He took the fruit and ate it.

"Thank you, niece."

Maera then went back to plucking the strawberries from the bush while Daemon leaned against a tree, closed his eyes and let the sun shine on his skin.

"A beautiful morning. It's summer now."

The girl nodded. "Yes. Septa Julvra told me to wait until the summer with plucking the strawberries." Her back faced her uncle so she couldn't see the smirk on his face.

"I didn't know you liked strawberries, little niece. Remember how much you cried two years ago when the servants prepared the most amazing strawberry cake for your name day? You wouldn't stop until they brought it away from your view."

She felt her skin getting warm and was glad that Daemon couldn't see it.

"Taste can change.", she breathed and her uncle chuckled lightly.

And then Maera was done because her basket was so full that the strawberries on top threatened to fall down. It was good timing because it was almost time for lunch and so Daemon and his niece started to make their way back. He saw how Maera struggled to hold the heavy basket so without a word he took it from her hand and carried it himself.

"Go to your chambers and change before the meal. Your hair is messy and the hem of your dress is dirty."

The girl sighed and frowned. "I'll do it afterwards. Or in the evening. I'll go outside today again anyway. It's redundant."

Daemon glared at her and raised his eyebrows. "No. You'll do as I say, little one and go change now. It's inproper to show up in the dining room like that."

Maera lowered her gaze and nodded. Of course she would obey him. Only recently had she learned about it in her lessons with septa Julvra. A wife was to obey and listen to her husband. She was to please him and do as he commands. And though Daemon wasn't Maera's husband, she still had taken these words to heart. She wanted to obey and please Daemon the way a wife pleased her husband. She wanted to follow his commands and make him happy by being obedient.

And that's why Maera intended to always listen to him and do exactly as he wanted. It was her little game inside of her head. Sometimes she imagined that he was in fact her husband and she his loyal and good wife. And so along with her imagination Maera did everything Daemon asked her to, she studied when he told her to, brought him something from his chambers when they were together in the dining room, held her fork differently when he said that her manners were bad and went to brush her hair when he said that it didn't look lady like. Just the way a wife would do for her husband.

109 AC

"I hate you!! You are so mean and unfair and you always put Aegon before me.", Maera screamed on the edge of breaking down in tears which made her father shake his head in disappointment.

"I don't put your brother before you! But he is the heir to the iron throne, daughter and so it is important that he comes with me on this process."

Her eyes flashed and spit fire as she clenched her hands in fists.

"You don't care about me at all only because I'm not your heir. I hate you. I wanted to come with you on your travels and now I have to rot in the keep for two months while Aegon gets to see so much. I hate you!!"

With these words Maera stormed out of her father's chambers without waiting for his permit to leave but she couldn't care less. The tears rolled down her cheeks now and they veiled her view so much that she didn't even see where she was going. Her blood was boiling inside of her veins and she had to fight the urge to hit something but then someone approached her from behind with quick steps. Maera turned around and before realizing who it was the person had wrapped his arms around her back and held her to his chest.

She realized who it was at once. His familiar sent and the way that he felt made her sniff and Maera's hands enclosed around the fabric of Daemon's shirt. He soothingly caressed her hair and her back until her crying was more quiet and then all the tears had spilled out and there was nothing left. Maera hiccuped and sniffed and crouched her head against his strong chest.

"He's s-so mean.", she whined. "He promised me that I would go w-with them b-but now I have t-to stay here while Aegon g-goes with him alone."

Daemon's hand was buried in her hair and his thumb stroke her head.

"Shhh, little one. It's gonna be fine."

"No it's not!", she claimed angrily which made Daemon abruptly take hold of her shoulders and he held her a little away from him.

"Calm yourself. I'm not the reason for your anger.", he said with lifted eyebrows and Maera dropped her gaze ashamed.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Her uncle caressed her shoulders softly. "You know that I will stay in the capital as well?"

The girl widened her eyes. "Really?"

Daemon smirked. "Yeah. I decided it days ago. I told my brother that what I needed is some time to rest in my home."

Suddenly everything felt so much lighter and easier and Maera didn't feel anywhere close to crying anymore.

"You'll stay here as well?", she asked again only to make sure that she hadn't understood it wrongly.

Her uncle chuckled. "Yes, I will."

She rushed to throw herself in his arms once again only that this time she was happy and relieved and didn't seek comfort.

"Can we go on a trip on Caraxes, uncle? Please." But unfortunately Daemon shook his head.

"You know that you have to attend your lessons, sweetling. Septa Julvra is probably already waiting for you in the library."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Can't I skip it for once?"

Her uncle furrowed and looked strict. "No, you can not. Don't disobey me, Maera."

She gulped but nodded. Unconsciously she brought her thumb to her mouth and started to nibble and bit at her nail which made Daemon exhaled deeply and reach out to grab her hand.

"I told you a hundred times that you are not to nibble at your nails."

Maera looked up to her uncle with big eyes.

"I'm sorry, uncle. I know that you've told me before. I'll stop it from now on, I promise." He looked content now which gave her relief.

"Good. And perhaps I can read you from your favourite book later. After your lessons with your septa."

And then a little later Maera sat by the fire place clutching the book in her hands. She was already scared that her uncle had forgotten her but her worries were unecessary. The door opened and he walked in with a croaked smile on his face.

"Hello, little one."

Maera smiled happily and watched as Daemon sat down in one of the big comfortable chairs and then he tapped on his thigh.

"Come here. I'll read you."

But the girl hesitated, remembering what her septa had told her recently. Daemon noticed her doubt and frowned.

"What is it, girl?"

But Maera was ashamed and felt the blood rising in her cheek and thought it to be more comfortable to look down to her lap instead of her uncle.

"Maera. Come here and tell me what is bothering you. Are you angry with me?"

She quickly shook her head but did as he had told her and slowly walked towards him though her eyes were still fixed on the ground.

"Julvra told me that… that I wasn't allowed to sit on your lap anymore.", Maera breathed at last which made Daemon chuckle quietly.

"Mhmm… And why is that?" She slightly raised her gaze and glared at him with big eyes.

"She… She said that… That I'm a woman now. Because I... I have bled. And that it isn't proper f-for a woman to sit on a man's lap."

Her uncle sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair while watching the flushness on his niece's cheek.

So she was a woman now. A grown woman in a marriagable age. How interesting.

111 AC

Maera's lower lip slightly trembled as she watched her uncle hug her father.

"Take care, brother. I know you'll do well."

Then he was done and his eyes wondered to her. It was her turn now. Why did it have to be her turn? She felt how her eyes got teary and tried everything to surpress them but Maera was almost certain that Daemon noticed them.

"Don't be sad, little niece.", he whispered and then wrapped his arms around her shoulder to pull her towards him. The girl gripped his tunic at his back and tightly held on to him as though she could make him stay that way. She felt a tear run down her cheek but luckily her face was pressed again his chest so no one could see it.

"It's so unfair.", Maera whispered and didn't even know whether these words were directed to her uncle or herself or even her father. Daemon was the one answering though.

"I won't be away forever. Don't forget me, little one.", he added which almost made her sob.

How could she ever forget him? Maera didn't even know how she would be able to spend her time while her uncle was gone.

"Please come back soon, uncle. Please."

He didn't answer to that but gently pulled away from her to watch her with a smirk on his face. Daemon ran his thumb over her cheek just for a brief moment and then turned around to approach Caraxes.

"Goodbye, Daemon.", Viserys said.

Maera wanted to do something, shout at him to make him stay, shake her father and convince him not to send Daemon away but she couldn't.

She was frozen and then it was already too late because her uncle had flown away and became more little with every second until all he was in front of her eyes was a dot, small like an insect.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss

[snootlestheangel]

Autism Mood of The Day

Being so frustrated about every little thing and crying because you don't know how to express your emotions.

So then you end up crying in front of your parents and make them uncomfortable/feel frustrated cause they don't know why you're crying "ItS nOt ThAt BiG oF a DeAl" or they don't know how to help

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, soft smut, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, daddy kink Simon Riley/female reader

If he could choose a way to die, this would be it.

He would choose to die right in this moment, where you're laying on your back in front of him, legs spread wide, chest heaving with the exertion of your second orgasm, limp and pliable, sweet as sugar. He'd choose to die in this room, with your name on his lips, the feeling of your body against his, your muscles seizing and hips jolting under his touch, the smell of your cunt in his nose, taste of your arousal on his tongue. He'd choose to die from happiness, elation, euphoria, the feelings so strong they feel like they might burst free from his veins and flood this room, spill from his heart like it's exploded.

He's mad for it. Mad for you. Allowed his madness to guide him, take over, control his vocal chords, his limbs. He's like a marionette, strings being plucked by none other but yourself, though you're none the wiser.

"Simon?" You whisper, very quiet, careful. You're nervous, he can tell. You've been nervous since he got you home and sent Johnny on his way, nervous ever since he laid you on your back and stripped you bare, ran his lips over every inch of skin possible, every pretty little lightning bolt, every single part you tried to hide.

"I'm here." He answers, taking your wandering hand with his own, squeezing it for good measure. You're floundering, wondering, eyes wide and a little lost, anxious at the lapse. "Just lookin' at you." He says, fingers stroking across your belly, following them with his mouth. "Don't think I've ever seen something so beautiful." You giggle, and it's soft, like the chiming of bells, the kind of music that angels would make, he thinks.

"Should I-" you turn to roll, like you're going to go facedown, or maybe up onto your hands and knees, and he stills you, forearms coming up to frame your face, thumb stroking along your furrowed brow line.

"No." He shifts your hip, settling you into a better position, and then strokes his cock, nudging it against your entrance. "I want to see your face." He wants to see your face, your eyes, your mouth, more than anything else in this world. Wants to see it everyday, wants to see it crying with bliss when he makes you come around him, wants to see it when he goes to bed and when he wakes in the morning. He wants to see it on a little paper picture, tucked up into his tac vest when he's away, wants to see smiling, giggling, content... happy. Safe. There will be plenty of time for the other stuff, for when he bends you over the couch, bends you over his knee, fucks you in the kitchen, in the shower, on the table. He hovers for a moment, soaking you in, blood thundering in his veins, through his ears, throbbing into his cock, and he's so hard it nearly hurts, but he can't rush this. He has to get it right.

"Simon." You whine, hips flexing, thrusting up so he feels the heat of your body, the wet heaven of your cunt. He grits his teeth.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He grunts, and then pushes, your eyes going wide, matching the round o of your mouth, fingernails tightening into his back, fluttering pussy trying to accommodate the stretch. He's big, bigger than you in many ways, he knows, and when your back arches, legs involuntarily folding, knees lifting, he traps you there, holding them steady so he can look down and watch the way he sinks into your body, cock disappearing inch by inch.

"Ohmygod ohmy- it's too- you're-" you gasp, and he leans down, slicking his tongue against yours, stealing your whimpers and moans, greedily drinking them up.

"I know, I've got you." He thrusts a little deeper, getting closer and closer to his hips being flush with yours. "You can take it." He goes slow, working you open, getting you used to him for as long as he can stand it, watching every little expression that falls across your face, every moment of bliss. "Is that good, sweetheart?" He noses at you, and you nod with a gulp, still holding onto him, arms trembling.

"Y-yeah. So good, so so good." You babble, nearly incoherent, cock drunk, and it feeds the reckless, hungry drive inside of him, encoraging him on, faster, until he's fucking into you with enough power that you're starting to inch up the bed moaning out nonsense vowels.

He gets lost, for a second, thinking about if you didn't have an IUD. Thinking about what it would be like, if he was breeding you, filling you with his come every night until it took, until you were growing his baby, round belly underneath a sweater, cradled in his arms in bed, giving Emmaline a sibling, making you a mama again, with him, for him. It shatters across his brain like the ricochet from a gun shot, white hot light searing inside his eyes, nearly making him come inside you right there until he pulls out with a deep breath, letting the head of his cock rest just inside your body as he collects himself, and then thrusts back in.

"Fuck!" You gasp, a little too loud, and you wince, eyes shocked. He puts his hand over your mouth, kissing your nose between where it pokes out between his thumb and forefinger.

"My good girl." He thrusts, and you moan, licking the salt of his palm. "My good," He's so deep, can feel where you end, where he's pressed against your cervix, and your eyebrows crinkle, tears gathering on your waterline. "sweet, mama. Doin' so good, taking this cock." Your eyes roll, and he drags himself along the silky heat of your walls, before plunging back in. "Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? This what you needed?" The word daddy almost slips, almost falls out like- 'is this what you wanted, for daddy to take care of you? Is this what you needed, for daddy to take you home and take care of this pussy- but he holds it in, reels in back just in time for you to nod as answer to his voiced question, and he pulls his hand away, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. "Tell me."

"Yeah, oh- Simon, yes-" you pant, a little squeaky, tear rolling down your cheek. You saying his name like this, with him so full inside you, fills him with fire, roaring heat racing through his muscles, and he grinds his hips against yours, making you groan, bucking against him when he finds your clit and glides his thumb across it, over and over.

"Do you wan' be my good girl?" He asks, pumping harder, pushing you the limit, and you cry out against his hand, nodding frantically, which he rewards with a smile, and another swipe across your clit. "Come for me. Let go sweetheart, I'm right here." He coos, still swirling your swollen bud in a circle, your legs practically steel around him, eyes brimming with tears. He'll take care of you. He'll give you everything. He'll never let you go, he swears, he swears, he swears... he doesn't stop, just keeps going relentlessly, fucking you as deep as he can as you come around his cock, exploding like a bomb, silently screaming into his palm. He's following you over the cliff of your orgasm a second later, nose pressed to your cheek, whispering insanity into your skin, half praying you won't be able to make sense of it. Whispers and vows of love, and protection, of care, promises and secrets, until the two of you are limp against one another, basking in the glow and heat of your bodies.

He closes his eyes for a moment. Just for a second, just to take a deep breath, preparing to pull out, to move on to what's next, cleaning you up, getting you in a bath or a shower, making sure you're comfortable, you're cared for, you're cherished as you ought to be. He closes his eyes, and it's just long enough for him to feel the shaking of your chest under his. Just long enough to hear the sniffle, the hiccup, his eyes opening in confusion, concern, cradling your face between his palms. "Sweetheart? What's wrong, what is it?" Panic stirs in his gut, and when you don't answer, his mouth goes dry, fear dousing him in a cold sweat. "Did I... did I hurt you?" When the only answer is the sound of your sobs, fat tears that stream down your cheeks, his heart cracks wide open in his chest.

Maybe he could very well die in this moment. But not from happiness. From agony.

[shrimpybbq]

season 4 pt2 with rafe, his wife and their kids

sarah who comes over to see rafe, only to be met at the door by high school gf-turned wifey, little charlie tangled between her legs as he peeks up at the unexpected guest

charlie’s eyes brighten as he lets out a squeal of “Aunty Sarah!” before suddenly throwing himself against her, giggling as sarah picks him up and cuddles him. she missed her nephew so much, and she had only managed to meet emmy once, so she’s pleased to see the kids even if it’s alongside another less pleasant task

high school gf had been walking down the main road in kildare when she stumbled across sarah and john b a few months back, charlie holding his mother’s hand as she carried a smaller emmy in a chest wrap. the estranged family had sat together at a cafe as she took a sleeping emmy out of the wrap, allowing sarah to hold her niece for the first time.

“She’s so little - so perfect,” Sarah had whispered, eyes fixated on the little human before her, “I can’t believe she came from my brother.”

The older girl laughed at Sarah, before looking at her sadly. “He wants to reconnect with you, Sar. He’s just scared.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for that. To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will,” Sarah admitted. She had watched as her sister-in-law sighed, before wrapping her in a side hug.

“I know, and I don’t blame you. What he did wasn’t right. But he regrets it, and you should at least know that. He feels bad about it every single day,” high school gf stated.

high school gf brings sarah out to the balcony, only for them to see emmy resting on rafe’s lap as he works. she knows rafe needs to be alone when he talks to his sister so she gently takes her from him, but not before placing a quick kiss on his lips,

“You can do this, baby. Just be calm.”

when sarah waves to the baby at the property hearing, it’s 100% high school gf and emmy. rafe had no interest in attending the hearing, but his wife wanted to go and support his sister so she attended

when sarah finds out she’s pregnant, she feels like she truly understands high school gf more. sarah was so scared to be pregnant and to be a mom, and yet high school gf was even younger when she got pregnant (and she had a drugged up rafe as a boyfriend). she thinks about how alone her sister-in-law must have felt and her heart hurts for her

high school gf gets a text from sarah one evening and the next day, the younger girl is secretly around at the cameron house again. rafe was out on business but the two women talk, with sarah getting advice on what to do and how to tell john b. she ends up crying into her sister-in-law’s chest, scared but knowing she wouldn’t be alone (she gets the best, most rational advice ever too, something she knows is a skill developed from living with rafe)

rafe’s already proposed, so before he leaves he’s having a heartfelt goodbye with his wife

“I’m just gonna be gone for a little while, ok baby? Groff screwed me and we need that money to set us up, set the kids up. A few weeks tops. And I’m gonna call as much as I can once I get to Morocco, so make sure you keep your phone on you, ok?”

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

“You know it. I ain’t gon’ do shit that could keep me away from you, you know that. And look, if you really need help while I’m gone, you know you can call Barry,” Rafe said.

“Barry is the absolute last resort,” she mumbled back, “but ok.”

Rafe leaned in and placed a heady kiss against her lips before wrapping her in his embrace. He inhaled deeply, committing to memory the scent of her perfume and the shampoo she used.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

when rafe is locked in the room on the ship just stewing over the events that led to his temporary imprisonment, he’s so angry. he grows angrier when he thinks about leaving his family to try and do something nice only to end up this way

he totally says to sarah that high school gf wouldn’t approve of the way she’s treating him, trying to guilt her to letting him go (she just rolls her eyes and walks out)

when he finds out about sarah’s pregnancy, he’s thinking of his family. the one he lost and the one he built. he wants his sister back in his life, and he wants to know his niece or nephew, the same way she got to know charlie - he’s just so hurt and misguided still

oh you know he’s trying to be helpful and bond with sarah again by giving pregnancy tips - everyone is shocked until they remember that he has a family

“You need to drink some ginger or peppermint tea. It’ll help balance out the acids in your stomach. Chuck a cracker or two in there as well.”

The pogues turned to look at Rafe curiously. He froze as all eyes landed on him.

“I’ve got kids, alright? I’ve dealt with this shit before - you think you’re the first pregnant woman to feel sick?”

he’s in essaouira when he first calls home, his wife so relieved to hear from him. he doesn’t have a lot of time so he promises to speak to his kids later, but for now he needs help finding groff. rafe doesn’t end the call without saying i love you though, no matter how rushed he is

sarah casually tells rafe that his wife knows of her pregnancy, and he just huffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course she does,” he grumbles

groff taunts rafe with his family when he’s stuck in the well - she hasn’t betrayed him yet, he mocks. the way he speaks about high school gf is vile, insinuating she’s a gold digger and only wants him for his name. he even resorts to suggesting she will run away with their children, leaving him alone (which is actually a deep seated fear of rafe’s, though it’s lessened). unfortunately for groff, he failed to do any research on rafe and his wife, so his words don’t reach him in the intended way, rolling off of his shoulders. he knows his wife and he knows their past, now more comfortable in his relationship than ever before

during the rafe and sarah reunion, he’s so emotional and confused. even though he’s comfortable in his marriage, to him, sarah is the one person he thinks could turn his wife against him

“No, you’re just gonna screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will- I- I know you will. I’ve only got one person left in this world who cares about me, and what- are you going to try take her too, huh?”

Sarah pleaded, “No, no- because I’m all you’ve got! And you’re the only real family I have left - you built your family and so did I, but we’re the only ones left from our old lives. I want us to be happy, and you know that she wants that too. I want us all to be together.”

rafe doesn’t manage to call home again until after the death of jj, but when he does, he’s so desperate to hear their voices - all of them. he’s just watched someone he thought was invincible die, and he just wants to know his family is safe. he uses up almost half of his phone battery on the call, but it’s worth it to him

rafe doesn’t know what the pogues are planning, but he’s adamant that he will support them. his only condition is that he will do so from kildare, refusing to be away from his family for any longer

honestly not a lot to work with for s4 part 2 but I’ve done my best so please enjoy a lot of rafe introspection

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

[onlyswan]

summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “��cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

[vinjinssunglasses]

could you write something about Yamazaki shingen can be anything

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════··

♯┆character yamazaki shingen

♯┆summary you are somi park, the woman who conceived. Strangely, you and Shingen get closer?

♯┆cw oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, belly bulge, slight size kink (?)

♯┆w/c 4.4k

♯┆a/n first smut fic, i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 also I do not condone somi park’s actions, nor is anything in this fanfiction canon. none of this is an excuse for her actions ^-^

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════·

The day you gave birth, you were filled with a mix of joy and emptiness. That warm feeling of joy wasn’t for yourself, it was for your own clan. Everyone cheered for you, so you should feel content too, right? Yet all you wanted to do was cry, let yourself loose with tears, hands soaking wet and makeup dripping. That child, the one who was too unworthy to bare the Yamazaki surname, was yours. And you hated it.

It reminded you of the day and nights of endless moaning from your parents, reminding over and over that you are one of the ten women to try to conceive that man’s child. Intercourse is only for those who are inlove, you firmly believe and stuck to your whole life. However there you were, taking in the ruthless thrusts of his man. His hands rest a firm grip on your hips, while his cock mercilessly spreads your hole. Yamazaki was indifferent; keeping his usual stern attitude and quietness, not sparing a sound.

It’s for your family, it’s for your clan. Those dreadful words ran through your mind endlessly. It felt like your perception of love and sex were being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes. As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent. Not a word or a sound, other than him flipping the blanket over himself. Getting up to clean up, you only sighed as you felt it running down your leg. The mirror showed the pathetic sight of tears running down your face again. And there, the bathroom floor, you sat there curled into a ball, letting the tears run down your red cheeks while you silenced your own woeful cries.

Upon the announcement that you had conceived, you didn’t know what to feel. Relief, knowing you want to have to betray your own beliefs like that again? Or grief, knowing that the baby in your stomach could be deemed useless, and all your efforts to keep your mental state together has been futile? Everybody cheered and congratulated you nonetheless. If only somebody even cared.

That son of yours. Every time clan members reminded you, murder ran through your mind. However you were only allowed to smile and thank them. None of the idiots spared a second thought about how you felt, nor did they even ask.

‘THE HOPE OF YAMAZAKI’

As soon as that forsaken child was born, everyone seemed to take their judging eyes off of you, and onto that mistake. It was the birth of a being that was fuelled with all your grievances. All your hatred shifted onto that child, the one who was worthless enough to take up your last name, Park. Pitch black eyes and a tiny body that giggled when played with. He couldn’t even say ‘mama’, and his mere existence was worth more than yours.

The only ones by your side was the other nine women who also slept with that beast. You all made jokes to lighten the mood, yet the lingering feeling of ‘it’s all your fault’ lay deep inside your hearts. None of them congratulated you on that child, they all experienced similar to what you have. It felt as if they were your only safe space throughout this whole home.

If you were going to live here, you figured you may aswell call it home. Nothing about this place felt like home to you. It was your place of endless suffering, that felt like you were paying the price for your sins.

The first day you had to take your punishment, was the day you were scheduled to sleep with him. Everytime you even think of your last digit, you remember your trembling hand against the knife that pointed at your helpless finger.

Yubitsume, where severing a finger signifies an apology and loyalty to the clan. All of you trembled with sweat when holding that blade. Terrified gazes exchanged, you had to go through with the yakuza tradition. The reason was simple — the desire for his seed. All of you were considered lowlifes, therefore you weren’t allowed to express your opinion. As a result of these actions that were considered sins, the blood splattered over the tissues provided.

Afterwards, you were responsible for his daily tasks: bathing, cleaning, etc. It was an awkward silence, though you weren’t expecting much since he was never a speaker. Dark eyes rested on your curves as you went for a towel, in his eyes you were beautiful. The reincarnation of Aphrodite. While he would never let the words flow off his tongue, you noticed the way Shingen’s gaze rested on you for longer than it should. Though he only sat there, otherwise resting his gaze on the bathroom tiles while you scrubbed.

════════════════════════

You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Gun was only young, unbeknownst of what was to happen. Born by unluckiness to serve the clan against his own will. It’ll be the only thing he knows from now on. To be a killing machine, just like his father, ‘Machine Gun’. To treat him like that, you felt terrible; absolutely ashamed.

Stopping him from having the childhood he was meant to, playing kendama with the friends he made, maybe you were part of the blame. You didn’t want to, but the vice-president presence looms over your shoulder, threatening that if you do not comply; it won’t go well. It’s not the child’s fault, he didn’t deserve any of this. If you had it your way, you’d him play kendama for as long as he pleased; never force him to fight. Still, you weren’t worth a dime to these people, therefore you were forced to your pesky mouth shut.

.

It’s strange. The contact with you two has always been the same — for the traditions of the Yamazaki clan. Then why does the air between you two feel a little lighter? It was odd enough being so casually naked around each other, even though you’ve already seen the other like this.

“How was your day?” Shingen muttered under his breath, and you paused in shock. The room fell silent as you stopped spreading the soap over his body. No, he’s not the type of guy to spare a moment of care for another. Ruthless, unforgiving and selfish is his nature; he tears his opponents limb by limb, not slowing them to spare a breath before they meet their demise. A man like Shingen doesn’t bother caring for his underlings, as they’re under him for one reason and one reason only: they’re weak, unable to reach his level.

Then why..?

“It.. It was okay.” You responded, mindlessly continuing with the task at hand. The room fell silent again, as per usual. It was a nerving stillness, one that has your heart racing. It was softer, less rough like his calloused, scarred skin, a result of all the treacheries he’s gone through. Shingen raises his brow as he studied his hands. You’d just realised — you had been staring at his hands for too long, and he had noticed.

“What is it?” Shingen spoke in a low tone as he inspected all the scars, callouses and rough texture of his hands, they were simply huge. One handshake could snap your wrist in two, not to mention the once soft knuckles that had hardened from the continuous strain from punching. The long, thick fingers which felt like rough sandpaper along his own skin, he had already gotten used to the sensation. So when your unfamiliarly soft hands run along his back, it successfully soothes him. Unlike his, your hands are slender and soft, with well-kept nails that are moisturised often to keep their ‘femininity’.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, proceeding to grab the shower head. Even when you suddenly splashed water over his body, he never flinched, no matter the temperature. Most times you could never tell if the water was too hot, as he would just sit there in silence.

The next few days weren’t any better. When you were simply cleaning the house, he’ll take a seat near you, sipping at tea while minding his own business. When you moved rooms, he’d do the same, following along and silently observing. Occasionally he’d ask you questions, but that’s as far as conservations went. At first, you tried to ignore him, pretending his presence didn’t bother you and focusing on your work. But over time, the heavy silence between the two of you became more and more unbearable. Shingen’s eyes would follow your every move, his gaze felt heavy, as if he wanted something, yet he never spoke.

One afternoon, as you dusted the walls, you finally had enough. You turned around, forcing the words out of your throat in an attempt to find out what you really wanted to know.

“Is something the matter? These past couple days, you have been following me around.” Your hands become sweatier and you could barely maintain eye contact. Shingen withdrew the cup from his hand, resting it on the table before gazing right into your anxious eyes. He was surprised by your sudden outburst, yet he maintained his neutral exterior.

“Is it bothering you?” He simply spoke, waiting for your reply. Unsure of how to answer, you hesitated — one wrong word and he could snap you in half if he wanted to. But did it bother you? Perhaps at first, however it’s a feeling you can’t put your finger on. It was intrusive, but it left you curious. Why was he there? Is he hoping to see, or hear something?

“No…” You muttered, letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you had been holding. His eyes lingered in you for a moment longer than it should’ve, leaving you with a shiver running down your spine. Expression unreadable, as if he was weighing your answer. You shifted uneasily, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your clothes, trying to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of his deep gaze.

“I see.” He spoke, voice low like a well-tuned instrument. It was as if he learnt something from your hesitation. Unsure of what to think, you swallowed trying to understand his body language, yet it proved futile. You psychically can’t understand a man like him. What is even thinking right now? The air is thick, filled with words you wish you could say.

“Well, if you need anything..” your voice trailed off awkwardly, and he nodded as to acknowledge your attempt at conversation before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. You returned to your work, yet the question still gnawed at you. Everytime you moved, you could feel his unwavering gaze on the back of your neck.

“Why me?” The question slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and you started to silently panic. Turning back to face him, he simply looked down at his reflected expression from the ripples of the liquid. Now that it was in the open, it was too late to take it back. For a moment, Shingen didn’t answer. No matter how much you squinted to see a pinch of emotion, you couldn’t see past the barrier between the mask he wore and his raw emotions. Angry, sad, disdained — you couldn’t tell. It was like staring at a stone wall, unmovable and devoid of emotion. To your surprise, you notice his lips curve into a frown. Did you perhaps do something wrong?

After what felt like ages, he spared a few words. “You interest me.”

‘You interest me?’ Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t grasp. You tried to search his face for even a tiny hint, yet he remained unreadable, as always. Before anything else could be said, he stood and left with the room. The only thing you could do was watch him. He didn’t even look back, leaving you with the echo of his strange words replaying through your mind.

The following week, he personally invited you into his chambers. A cold shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly asked you to meet in his room that night. While you were cleaning the dishes, he quietly entered the room unbeknown to you. Suddenly speaking in a low tone, you flinched and raised your head to look at him. Those same, cold and dark eyes gazed down at you.

“Come to my room, tonight.” Simple, and sweet. Usually he’d keep a distance from his underlings, yet he was close enough that his arms brush yours. You dropped the sponge and took a moment to process the situation — his room? Tonight? What?

“Is there a reason?” You felt compelled to ask. What could he possibly be thinking? He’s unreadable, and you struggle to understand him.

“No.” Leaving no room for anymore questions, he turned around and left. Standing there, puzzled, you could once again only watch him walk away as you were forced to continue your task.

That night, the clock struck ten and you had just finished washing up. You got changed and put your old clothing into the laundry. It was bothering you, what was he doing to do? Did your parents do something outlandish again? The whole thought of it left you pacing around the hallways wondering if you should just say you forgot. But then you’d be going against his order, and who knows what your clan will shame you for now? Sighing, you took the chance and knocked at the door.

“Oyabun.” You called out, and he opened the door. He let you inside, and you took a seat on the bed where he sat beside you. The quiet of his chambers felt oppressive, the air thick with words unspoken. You shifted a little and fidgeted with your hands as your mind spun with questions. Were you over thinking? The silence stretched between you, his presence looming next to you, quiet and unyielding. You tried to shut these thoughts out, but you could only focus on how close he was sat, his body heat radiating against yours in the lamps dim light.

You cleared your throat. Hesitating, the question you’d been holding back forcing its way out. “… What did you mean by that?”

Shingen shifted his gaze from your fidgeting fingers to your jumbled expression that could barely maintain eye contact. “The other day, where you said..”

Did you say too much? You paused and instantly regretted saying anything.

For a moment that felt like ages, he didn’t say a word. You could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t make a move to speak. Anxiety coiled in your chest, and just as you were about to apologise for saying anything in the first place…

“You think too much.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you pulled your head up to looked at him. For once, he showed an emotion you could make out — troubled. His brows creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, struggling to look you in the eye. “You..” Shingen paused, as if carefully choosing his choice of words. “…occupy my thoughts.”

What? It wasn’t as you expected ever coming out of his mouth. He’s a gruesome man who doesn’t hesitate to tear limbs apart, yet here he is, in front of you, weak and docile. Between the cracks of his yielding facades, a hint of emotion shone through. It was as if your hand moved by itself, curling his hair behind his ear.

“Why?” You whispered, trying to grasp onto any sort of reason. “I don’t understand you.”

“There’s no need.” Shingen replied, his voice low and soft. This time, his eyes gazed longingly into yours, filled with an unspoken desperation, like he was hoping for something he couldn’t put into words. In all honesty, you were speechless. Before entering this room, you had no expectations, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Now you want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Seeing his face so soft was a sight engraved in your mind, one that you wouldn’t get tired of seeing.

“Just.. stay. Stay with me.” He bit his lip, his expression tender, waiting for a response he desperately needed. These words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten. His words resonated deep inside of you, and you couldn’t explain his new feeling.

The silence returned, but it didn’t feel thick and heavy, nor suffocating. It felt as if something growing between you two, something fragile and real.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, as your hand lands on his. Stroking his thumb, you noticed a faint smile creep onto his lips as a wave of contentment washed over him. It was a side of him that you had never seen — no, nobody has even seen — and it made you feel so special. *I was the only one to see this monster oh-so vulnerable. You saw it — how his shoulders eased and body relaxed, leaning into yours. As if he’d been holding it in for so long, and only now, in this room that he bared his suffering alone, has he been able to express it.

He turned his hand over, lacing his with yours. The feeling of his weathered hands felt so warm against yours, and you embraced his imperfections for what they were. That simple gesture sent a warmth through your body that made your chest ache. His other hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before resting it against your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin.

Shamelessly, you almost couldn’t keep your eyes off of his lips. And he couldn’t either. An eagerness that rested in your heart hedged for you to kiss him. You shifted closer to him, taking the chance and pulling him closer while your lips met his, hesitant but eager. Shingen’s mouth was warm, a firm contrast from his cold exterior. Your eyelids flutter close as you let yourself melt into the tenderness of his embrace. Restless, your hands finding themself gripping the hem of his robe, unable to get enough of him. Straddling his lap, you felt his hands naturally settle upon your hips. You finally take this chance to take a breathe, and you look into his eyes — hungry.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in control — his gazed lifted to you, not looking down. You cupped his face,, watching how his cheeks squish against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, you didn’t dare part them.

It was a moment you never wanted to end.

Yamazaki lifted you by the hips, taking care to lay your body onto the bed before climbing in between your legs. Untying your robe, his hands eagerly explore each crevice of your body. From your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs — you were perfect. Shingen leaned towards your breasts, gently circling his finger around your areola. Your nipples ached to be touched, yet he only groped your tits, kissing at the sensitive regions of your neck.

His kisses travelled down your collarbone, chest and stomach, towards your dripping cunt. Shingen’s long hair draped along your thighs, his warm breath causing your pussy to tremble.

“Hurry.” Voice aching with anticipation, he complied; his tongue slurped up all your juices, taunting your clit with the feathery contact. Every glide of his tongue has you loosing control of your pesky mouth once more, moans carelessly spilling, making his own neglected cock throb. Moving the strands of hair from his forehead back, you can see the lust and hunger embedded in his eyes, as if he’s holding back from having his way with you. It’s so sexy, seeing those glaring eyes gazing right back at you. His fingers grip deep enough into your skin that it could bruise, pulling you in closer to ravenously lavish in the juices of your leaking cunt.

Shingen leaned in closer to circle your clit with his tongue. A pleasured gasp came from above, which encouraged him to keep going. What if someone heard? You tried your hardest to suppress your moans, covering your mouth. Why’d he stop? A hand grips onto your wrist, pulling them away from your panting mouth as he looks up into your eyes.

“Don’t hold back your moans. I want to hear them.” He slowly pushed a finger through, thrusting in a come hither motion. Those hands, they were fucking huge, and your cunt struggled to spread around them. The once rough, sandpaper like hands melted into your love juices, becoming soft and creamy. A smirk ran across his lips as he rubbed his own erection, watching your face contort into a slutty mess.

Oh, what’s that? He presses against your g-spot, and you shriek in pure bliss. Each thrust leaves you breathless, bolts of pleasure running through your spine. What’s worse is the view of your juices spilling all over the sheets, creating a pool under you. Shingen can’t help but love what he’s doing to you, enjoying every moment of your helpless self.

Oh gosh, you could feel yourself getting closer, while he leans in to circle his tongue around your nub. Shamelessly attacking your weakest spot, you grip onto his hair as you could feel the pool of pleasure inside your stomach hollowing, and your voice becoming louder. In three last plunges against your g-spot, a squeal escapes you as you squirt all over his abdomen. Vision hazy, you felt his fingers pulling out and him panting himself. Shingen lapped up the aftermath of your delighted orgasm, hungrily devouring every last drop.

Next thing you know, his cock is hugged between the wetness of your folds, lined up against your hole. How the fuck was that thing going to fit inside of you? No matter how wet your hole was, the tip could barely push its way in.

“Relax,” His hands rested on each side of your hips for support, while he tried to push it in slowly.

“It’ll fit.” He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking. Shingen groaned as in one final thrust of force, he abruptly dipped into your heat. You let out a surprised squeal, as you both pant. One hand finds its way to grip onto your thigh that nestled around his waist, while the other grips onto your hips. Only three inches has found its home in the depths of your pussy, yet you’re already panting for air. It’s only just begun. He doesn’t dare push any further, afraid that’ll hurt you.

“Give me more. I.. I can take it…” Your voice trembles, trailing off at the end.

Of course, he indulges; pushing his length on further, six inches in. Even further now, seven, eight.. just how big is he?! The girth of his cock makes your head spin as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. As he pulls out, you noticed the glistening of his cock dipped in the wetness of your pussy, yet the remaining few wasn’t. Giving slow thrusts, you could feel the motion of his cock hitting so deep, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“You feel so good..” He groans into the crook of your neck, hungrily kissing your neck to your lips. That spongy spot inside of you is being tortured by his fat tip, and your joke shudders every time he does. Shingen’s never been this loud — breathlessly loosing control of himself, his precum already leaking inside of you.

“Shingen,” You pulled him in closer with your legs, causing another inch or two to slip in. “Gi.. Give me all of it. I told you, I, I can take it..”

You whine as your eyes start to water, having your toes curling. An instant regret floods his body as he saw the tears running down your cheek, yet he was feeling way too good to acknowledge anything else. Reluctantly, the last few inches fill you up, and oh, you could see his cock bulging out on your stomach.

Shingen faintly smiled as he pushed down on that spot, his hips unapologetically moving faster. It was so sensitive — him pressing down on your womb only made you scream in ecstasy more. Your hole tightens and squeezes him, and you could feel every twitch and pulse his desperate dick let’s out. His strong hands grip onto your hips, squeezing them while thrusting as fast as he could — a bolt of cum building inside his balls.

“Shingen..!” Your voice wails in heavenly bliss, yet he’s too pussy-drunk to even listen to a word you’re saying. “Agh..! W-Wait, I…!”

The sinful sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt drowned out the noises of your moans, and a sheen sheet of seat drips down your bodies.

“I’m.. I’m cumming.. T-Take it all..” just a little bit more and..!

He’s filling you up, mumbling all sorts of profanities. As soon as he pulls out, a rush of juices land on his chest yet again. It made him satisfied to see your hole bubbling with his sperm, dripping onto the wet sheets. It was an achievement to see you trembling, gasping for air, gripping into the sheets for some resolve. He plants a kiss on your cheek, biting on your earlobe before whispering into your ear:

“One more time, please?” And you couldn’t refuse.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

babys first flight

words: 1.3k

warnings: flying, dad!rafe, mom!reader, breastfeeding, dude briefly being rude about your baby crying

a/n: i guess this could be a prequel to pink unicorn but honestly i just wanted to use the same name for the baby again lol

rafe sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he looks at the flight board. you can tell from the defeated look on his face as he walks back over to you that your flight is delayed.

“two hours.” he states, sitting down next to you. you sigh just as deeply as your husband, looking at your sleeping daughter in your arms.

“i think i should wake her up. that way she falls asleep on the plane.” you say, running your finger over rosie’s cheek, her skin soft and flushed pink as she naps.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “whatever you think is best.” rafe defaults often to you, letting you guide the way through raising your daughter. he has experience with his two younger sisters, but you grew up in an even bigger family and often helped out with the babies.

you feel bad having to wake rosie up, especially when she’s asleep during her usual naptime. “wake up, babygirl.” you coo, pressing kisses to her cheeks until her eyes open up, lips instantly turning into a pout.

“its okay!” you stretch a smile over your face. “its okay, rosie!” your soft tone stops her tears, but her pout remains. you jiggle her favorite toy in front of her. your daughter is only three months old and still working on her grip, so you manage to entertain her by placing the toy in her hand every time she drops it.

“here, let me take her.” rafe reaches out. “you stretch your legs and take a break.”

you glance at the clock. still an hour and a half until you can get on your plane. its a short flight, from north carolina to the bahamas for a much needed vacation, deciding to spend the entire summer at your second home while rafe has paternity time away from work.

“gonna use the bathroom.” you press a kiss to rafes cheek, then rosies. “be right back.”

you don’t hurry as you walk around the airport, glad that you’re booked in first class and can use the lounge as the bustling sounds of the airport would surely annoy rosie. 

you use the bathroom and get a coffee for rafe, deciding to ditch the decaf and get a mocha for yourself. while you know its generally safe to drink coffee while breastfeeding, you still try to stay away from it, but on days like today, you certainly need it.

“here ya go.” you hand the coffee to your husband after making your way back to the waiting area.

“oh god, thank you.” rafe lets out a moan as he tips the cup back, the warm liquid filling his mouth. he bounces rosie gently on his knee to keep her eyes open.

“would we be terrible parents if i turned on something on my phone for her to watch?” you pout, trying hard to keep her away from screens, but sometimes you just need something to distract her.

“we absolutely would not but if it makes you feel better, i’ll use my phone.” rafe pulls it out of his pocket, transferring rosie easily back into your arms. you cradle her in a way that still allows her to look at the phone screen, her eyes glancing between rafes face cooing at her and the dancing fruits and vegetables.

“shes loving this.” rafe laughs when rosie giggles, her plump cheeks stretching. rosie just started laughing last week, and rafe is still the only one who can get it out of her, although she smiles at you constantly since she first developed the muscles.

“now boarding first class.” the announcer calls out, the hour flying by with rosie entertained.

“she just started looking tired too.” rafe says, taking your carry ons in his hands as you place rosie into her sling, deciding to babywear her until you’re all settled in your seats and can put her in the carseat that rafe also manages to carry.

“welcome aboard.” the flight attendant smiles at you, leading you towards your seats. three all in a row. rafe works quickly to get everything set, placing rosies carseat in the middle seat.

“babys first flight!” you coo to her, hoping to keep her awake through boarding so she will hopefully sleep the entire two hour flight.

“here, i got her.” rafe places her in the carseat once its all strapped down, waiting to do up her buckle until the plane actually takes off.

you both talk partially to her and partially to each other to keep her eyes open, even occasionally giving her tummy little tickles to keep her droopy eyes from closing completely.

while the flight attendant does the safety demonstration, you do up rosie’s buckles. she’s asleep before the plane even begins to move, and you’re surprised when she doesn’t even startle during take off. you reach over to hold rafes hand until you’re steady in the air, hating the rising feeling in your stomach.

“doing good baby?” rafe asks, swiping his thumb over the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath. “yeah, yeah.” looking at rosie and your husband helps sooth the little bit of nerves you have about flying.

the flight goes smoothly until halfway to the bahamas, rosie suddenly startles away with a cry.

“ohhh, its okay baby.” you coo to her, able to recognise from her cry alone that she’s simply hungry.

“oh god, will you shut that baby up?” a man behind you groans before you can even undo her buckles to get her out of her seat.

“what did you say about my daughter?” rafe stands up, glaring as you just try to quiet rosie, pulling her into her lap while you search for a blanket to cover yourself with.

“you heard me! i didn’t pay for first class seats to listen to a crying baby!” the man grunts.

“you’re lucky we’re on a plane or-” rafe begins, until you hiss out his name. “stop it, let the flight attendants handle it.”

rafe sees the stress on your face, nodding as he grabs you a thin blanket, draping it over your shoulder while you adjust your shirt to feed rosie, her cries quieting as she latches onto your nipple.

“sir, that is not appropriate behavior for our airline-” the flight attendant begins to lecture the man behind you, clearly a mom herself. 

“it’s okay.” you tell rafe as he turns his shoulder to glare at the man. you rub your hand over his cheek just like you would to rosie until he’s calm.

“dudes an asshole.” rafe grunts out, but his tone is softer now, leaning across rosies car seat to press a kiss to your cheek. he pulls the blanket away slightly so he can look down at your daughter, happily nursing.

“she’s so perfect.” he sighs, glad he has such a well behaved baby for her first flight.

you both settle into your seats as rosie finishes, clearly just needing her tummy to be full before going right back to sleep. you decide to keep her in your arms until the plane begins to descend. 

“i got her.” rafe pushes your hands away to do up her seat belts. he knows how much of a stress pregnancy and breastfeeding is on you, so he tries to do absolutely everything he can, even naming himself the sole diaper changer.

you hold rafes hand again as the plane descends, letting out a sigh of relief when the wheels make smooth contact with the runway.

--

“this was absolutely worth the pain of the flight.” you smile to rafe, resting your head on his shoulder as rosie lays on the towel in front of you, body completely shaded by a pink umbrella.

you look out onto the ocean, waves lightly lapping against the pale yellow sand.

“couldn’t agree more.” rafe hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl

[buckyalpine]

you know what I live for? Misunderstandings. Angst. Fluff.

You bit your lip hearing Bucky's conversation with his two closest friends, the three men sitting together in the living room. It clearly wasn't a conversation for anyone else's ears but you couldn't move from the spot you were glued to.

“I-I think I should tell y/n” Bucky sighed, pacing up and down the living room while Sam and Steve were silently judging the super soldier.

"Seriously? This little affair still going on?" Sam shook his head while Bucky gave him a small nod.

“I really like her” He whispered, fiddling with his fingers.

“Well you got tell her, no point keeping it to yourself at this point, she deserves to know. It's been going on for long enough Buck” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look.

“She makes me feel safe. It’s different. I love y/n, but-" Bucky flopped onto the couch, staring up a the ridiculously high ceiling.

“But?”

“This-this is different. I-I think I love her-”

“Do you hear yourself right now” Sam said incredulously, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for him, "You brought this on yourself so deal with it"

“I know” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just-you should see the way she looks at me, her eyes, I didn't mean for it to get this far-

"Save it. Tell y/n" Steve stated, not willing for any of this to go on any longer. This wasn't the first time his bestfriend brought up this topic and he was certain it wouldn't be the last unless Bucky came clean.

You hadn't even realized you'd started crying until you struggled to choke back a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth and running off to your room instead. Bucky frowned at the soft sniffle he thought he heard, craning his neck to see an empty hallway.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to Steve who shared the same look of concern. "Fuck, do you think that was y/n?" His heart raced further, desperately wanting to run over to you, looking at the clock and realizing it was also time for him to see her. As much as he loved you, he had to go to her first.

He didn't have a choice.

-

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your misery, your boyfriends pleading voice muffled on the other side.

"Baby?" Bucky knocked again, desperately hoping you'd let him in and give him a chance to explain himself. He never intended for any of this to happen. He finally decided to let himself in, opening the door, his heart dropping seeing your sad, pouty face, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. He knew you'd overheard him so there was no point in hiding anything anymore.

"This isn't how I wanted you to find out" Bucky spoke softly, shuffling at the door, guilt plastered all over his face. He closed the door behind him before walking over to the bed and sitting beside you. Before you could say anything, he shifted closer to you, nervously biting his lip.

"Her name is Alpine" Tucked into the crook of his arm was a tiny white kitten no more than a few weeks old, happily cuddled into the warmth of his chest. She looked up at him with bright blue eyes, blinking slowly while he cooed, seeing she was up from her nap.

"This is who you were talking to Sam and Steve about?" You asked nervously while Bucky sheepishly nodded, giving you an apologetic smile for his dramatics.

"I've been taking care of her. I know we're not allowed to have pets but I couldn't just leave her there in the cold" Bucky whispered, petting her small head with his finger while she batted at his tags. You giggled at how soft your boyfriend was for the tiny kitten, the furbaby having him wrapped around her little paws.

"I found her while I was out on a run, she was by one of the bushes. I don't think her mom came back for her, she was alone. She was so tiny, she would've died" Bucky felt his throat tighten, remembering the day he'd heard her cries from the garden, her tiny form fitting into the palm of his hand. She'd been days old, waiting for someone to find her.

"I've been feeding her every couple hours, got a box set up by the bush with some blankets but she can't stay there forever. Steve caught me checking on her a few days ago" Bucky looked at you with puppy eyes, hoping you'd understand what he was asking.

"Is this where you've been running off to?" You shook your head while he smiled down at the kitten, proud of how much she'd grown.

"Can we keep her? I don't to put her in a shelter, she'll be scared and she just got comfortable letting me hold her, I don't want her to feel abandoned-"

"We'll keep her. Let's talk to Tony tomorrow" You hushed your boyfriends nervous rambling with a soft kiss to his sweet lips, rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

"Really?" His eyes lit up, bright and blue, matching the baby that stole his heart.

"Really, you big softie" You teased, loving your teddybear of a boyfriend.

"I'm sorry I worried you" Bucky whispered, pulling you to sit in his lap, his two favorite girls cuddling into him.

-

"He finally came clean" Sam snorted, seeing you and Bucky sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a bunch of cat toys, with a blur of white fur jumping between the two of you. "How'd you convince Stark"

"Didn't take much to be honest" you giggled; Tony tried to put up a stoic front, melted instantly as soon as Alpine crawled up his leg, purring into the crook of his neck. "He bought her a heated cat bed and automatic food dispenser"

Alpine stretched across the warm giant couch, curling up under a patch of sun while Bucky looked at her with hearteyes.

"I have competition with a cat" You playfully frowned while Bucky shook his head, scooping you into his arms immediately.

"Never babydoll, you're my everything"

I thought I overheard you saying she's different" You nudged him while he tried to defend himself again, only to fail miserably.

"He's lying y/n, he talked about her eyes and the way she looks at him" Sam chimed in, while Bucky hid himself into the crook of your neck. "And how he thinks he loves her"

"Shut up Sam"

"Such a softie"

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Fourteen

“Steve,” Robin lets herself in the front door, “Steve!”

“Yeah, I’m through here,” Robin appears in the doorway just as Eddie blinks awake, “I’m sorry baby, we woke you up.”

Eddie looks a little bleary eyed, his usually deep chocolate brown eyes looking a little cloudy.

“Steve, what’s wrong, I was there when Keith answered the phone.”

“I’m fine Robs, it’s Eddie who’s a little under the weather,” and Steve couldn’t exactly explain to Keith that the fish-guy who’s living with Steve is coming down with something, so he had to put on his best flu ridden performance.

“Oh...is he okay? It’s not catching is it, like Upside Down rabies or something?” Steve sighs as Eddie shifts, making no effort to get up.

“Eddie does not have Upside Down rabies,” Steve can feel Robin eyeing them up, how snuggled they are on the couch under Eddie’s blanket. Steve watches as she takes in the movie on low, the only other light coming from the tree, the blinds half drawn, “come on baby,” and yeah, there goes Robins eyebrows, her mouth dropping open, “I’m going to go and make Robin a coffee,” Eddie clings tighter for a moment, but then allows Steve to slide out from under him, burrowing right into the corner of the couch the moment Steve’s gone.

“What’s up with him?” Robin asks, “is he okay?”

“He’s a little off his food,” Steve starts, fiddling with the coffee machine.

“And?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Steve...come on, no. You think I can’t tell when something's wrong? Tell me what’s up.”

Steve gives her her coffee, cradling one for himself as he leans on the kitchen counter. It’s getting dark outside already, the evenings coming in fast. Steve can just about see where the pool is covered over in the yard.

He can’t look at her as he speaks, he knows he’ll start to cry if he does.

“Eddie is...he’s like a tadpole. But the frog is a Demogorgon.”

“Holy shit!” Robin whisper hisses at him, “what are you going to do? Is it soon? Have you told anyone else? Steve, he could really hurt you, is it even safe for him to be here, you’re alone, if it just like, happens-”

“I haven’t told anyone else, and neither will you,” Steve glares at her, and Robin actually cowers a little.

“Steve...we really should tell someone else, Hopper might-”

“Hopper might shoot first and ask questions after. No.”

“But Steve-”

“Robs, stop, please. Please don’t do this, okay. Please.”

“But Steve-”

“I said no Robin. Eddie stays with me, that’s it. Whatever happens I’ll...deal with it.”

“Steve you...but you could get really hurt.”

I’m already really hurt, Steve doesn’t say. He just sips his coffee and breathes deep so he doesn’t loose it in front of Robin.

“Steve are you- you and Eddie I mean...I mean I know he’s your...friend and everything,” the careful way she says friend speaks fucking volumes, “and it’s upsetting but...you guys are pretty close? Already? You seemed real cosy when I walked in and you’re being pretty defensive over a creature from The Upside Down you’ve known for all of maybe three months is what I’m-”

“Robs.”

“Right, yeah but I mean...Steve, he’s a guy. And a fish. I mean…”

“I don’t think I’m going to spend any time worrying about either of those things Rob, considering he probably doesn’t have long.”

Eddies breathing is shallow, Steve’s sure it is. He’s certain Eddie is...fading, somehow. Steve only moves when he absolutely has to. He has gotten up to get a drink, but only because he felt a headache forming, and then to piss, but only out of desperation. Steve took one of these opportunities to check Eddie’s tail; the splits are longer, the tips starting to spread out into a loose star shape. And it’s dry, inflexible; like Eddie’s dying from the tip of his tail upwards.

Steve’s going to hold him through this, no matter what. The moment Steve slips back onto the couch, Eddie uses his last dregs of energy to, feebly, burrow into Steve.

He won’t eat; Steve’s tried everything, even offering a beer. Eddie refuses, but he can’t seem to let himself give up; he has to try, so frightened that Eddie might be in any kind of discomfort.

“Eddie, baby, will you have some food.”

Eddie sighs out a grumble, Steve lifting Eddie’s head carefully, trying to get Eddie to look at him; when Eddie does finally blink his eyes open, he’s sure they’re even less clear than before. They seem to be clouding over, turning milky.

“Food? Baby please, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Eddie sighs, voice dry and raspy, the first time Steve’s heard him speak for hours, “food bad.”

“Why, baby, why is food bad?” Eddie just shakes his head, trying to snuggle back against Steve’s chest. “Eddie, baby?” Steve’s voice breaks, but he tries not to cry, “baby, how long do you think?” Eddie looks at him, lifting his head slowly, “Eddie.” It hurts Steve on a visceral level, kills him inside to do it, but he brings his hands up to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks and lacing his fingers over his face, he makes their sign for Demogorgon, “what time Demogorgon?”

“No, Eddidie no Demo-gor-gon,” he stumbles over the word.

“But you said you would change. Eddie grow into Demogorgon.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no food. No...Demo-gorgan. Dead later.”

“What? So if you don’t have food, you- Eddie. Eat food.” Sure, Eddie might turn into a Demogorgon, but there’s a chance he might retain some of himself, right? He might still be Eddie, and Steve is willing to take that chance.

“No. Demogorgon Eddidie food.”

“Yeah buddy, you said before, Demogorgon eat Eddie-”

Eddie sighs, clearly exhausted, but he leans over for his coloring book, just able to snag it off the coffee table; he turns to the purple dog. Steve doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before; it’s not just purple, it’s blue and black and all the colors of a Demodog. It’s fucking obvious actually, that that’s what it supposed to be.

“Eddidie eat Demo-gorgon. Eddidie Demogorgon. Eddidie eat,” and he points to the dog, “then Eddidie.”

“How, how though do you eat Demogorgon?”

“Safe dead later.”

Steve thinks, he’s heard Eddie say that before...the bee. Eddie said dead later when he knew the bee was sick, and, heartrendingly enough, he’s just said it about himself. Steve could be pulled under by the grief, he knows it, but he takes a breath and does his best to push it down. “You find one that’s going to die. It’s hurt or weak or...wait, so you need to eat some of the thing you’re going to turn into? Eddie eat this,” Steve points to the page, “then Eddie is this.”

Eddie nods.

“What if...what if you eat something else? What if...Eddie, how much of the Demogorgon do you need to eat? Many?”

Eddie shakes his head, makes their symbol for pea, finger and thumb, close together.

“Small, okay so what if...Steve Eddie food.”

“No. No Stee ow, no-” he protests weakly.

“Eddie,” Steve holds him, holds his face, “it’s only a small ow, please, please Eddie,” Steve starts to cry, he can’t help it. He cries as he begs, “please Eddie, I love you. Don’t go. Stay. Please, I love you. We have to try.”

“I love you too,” and Eddie’s crying. Steve’s never seen Eddie cry, his tears aren’t clear, they stain his cheeks a little, like weak coffee’s been spilled, the palest tear tracks on Eddie’s too white skin. Eddie’s tears smell like mown hay, like fresh cut grass. “Okay.”

“Okay, what else? Just food?”

Eddie shakes his head, pointing outside, “pool.”

That’s going to take hours to fill, most of the night, probably, “baby, would the tub be okay?”

“No. Pool.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve slips out from under Eddie, not bothering to waste time with a jacket, just shoves his bare feet into his sneakers and heads out, bracing for the cold.

It’s the middle of the night. Steve’s wrapped up now, but it’s still really cold. Hard drifts of still frozen snow rest up against the trees and pool furniture; gathered shiny white in all the nooks and crannies of the yard.

The sky is clear now, the stars defined and bright in that way they only ever are when it’s fucking freezing.

The pool is just over half full, but Eddie’s fading, and Steve won’t wait any more.

He carries Eddie out, draped in a blanket, “Eddie, this water’s going to be cold. Many many cold.”

“Cold good,” is all Eddie will say.

Steve’s terrified the water will freeze; that Eddie will get locked under the ice and drown. That this won’t work at all, that Eddie will turn into a monster that doesn’t recognize Steve- he tries desperately to push it all down. “Okay, now what?”

Steve’s standing right on the edge, Eddie suddenly struggles, and Steve, not expecting it, looses his grip on Eddie, and he’s slipping from the blanket and hitting the water with a loud splash. It’s so cold, just the sight of Eddie doing that makes Steve’s breath stutter in his chest in sympathy.

Eddie reappears quickly, and climbs back out half way, clinging to the pool steps as Steve takes his place sitting at the top of them, slipping off his sneaker, and then his sock.

“Small ow,” Eddie says, his voice quavering, he’s soaking wet, hair plastered down, skin shivering.

“Two,” Steve insists, “we need to make sure.”

By the time Eddie’s teeth pierce Steve’s flesh, he realizes he should have brought something to bite down on. It’s strange, he doesn’t feel it at first, not until after Eddie drops back into the water, immediately darting away to huddle at the deepest corner, furthest away.

It’s not until his blood drips into the water; swirling darkly in Eddie’s dissipating wake – that the pain really hits Steve. It’s the burning, stabbing kind. The energetic kind of pain that tells him there’s something really fucking wrong. Then he has to bite back a scream; it bubbles out as an anguished groan instead.

He regrets this instantly – not giving two of his toes to Eddie, not that, they have to try – but not being prepared. Steve is usually the one that plans, the one that thinks of things like this. Contingencies. He has nothing with him. He tries to staunch the bleeding with his sock, his fear for Eddie, temporarily at least, eclipsed with the blinding pain in his foot. Steve takes great shuddering breaths, the frigid air stinging his lungs, unable to control his breathing, and it suddenly occurs to him that this is going to need stitches.

Eddie didn’t fuck about; once he was in, he went all in, Steve’s two smallest toes on his left foot are gone right to the root.

Part Sixteen

[silverwingxox]

A Hidden Challenge - Cregan Stark

Pairing : Cregan Stark x Velaryon!Reader x mentions of Aegon Targaryen

Warnings : Targcest, talks of arranged marriages.

Summary : You fly North to Winterfell and meet Cregan Stark, the young wolf your mother wishes for you to marry, but not without a challenge.

Author's Note : Silverwing girly, I don't know wether to make this a series or not, idk.

“I need you to fly North as an envoy, not a warrior.” your mother Rhaenyra said softly, a scroll in her hands. You looked out to sea, your dragon Silverwing flying in the open air with your brother’s dragon, Vermax. “I will send Jace to the Eyrie and Luke to Storm’s End.” your mother continued. Looking towards the rightful Queen, you gave a nod of your head, the sea breeze blowing strands of your brown hair into your face. 

“Silverwing has been North before, she’ll fare the best.” you agree with your mother, holding your hand out to take the sealed scroll. Rhaenyra brought her soft hands to your face, running her thumbs over your cheeks gently, as though trying to remember each one of your features, this only lasts a few seconds before she pulls you into a tight embrace and presses a motherly kiss upon your crown. 

“(Y/N)...you are my heir, it is only right you should know what I have written to Lord Stark.” The Rightful Queen states, pulling away a little, to look into your (e/c) eyes. Confusion takes over your features as you look up to your mother. “I know I have always said I wish for you to marry a man of your own choosing. But with this war on the horizon, I fear I can no longer allow you that freedom.” Rhaenyra states, her eyes softening as she watches your face fall.  

You had no desire to marry, not for a long time. You had wished to marry for love, not convenience. However, you were heir to the Iron Throne so you knew there would be a chance of you entering a political marriage, you remember crying to your mother about it once your uncle Aemond decided to tease you, scare you in fact, of stories of what men do to their wives. Especially wives who aren’t of their own choosing. How brutal they can be when it comes to creating an heir, how they whore around just trying to escape their wives. It was that night your mother promised you she would have you marry for love, not convenience. 

“Yes mother.” You said obediently, the scroll suddenly feeling heavy in your grasp. Rhaenyra took your hands in hers and looked at you lovingly. “Cregan Stark is closer to your age than mine, he is said to be as loyal as they come and I’ve heard rumors of his dashing good looks.” Your mother said the last point, trying to cheer you up as much as she could. 

“Whatever my Queen commands.” You say monotone, you didn’t mean to take such a short tone with your mother, you wanted to apologize and hug her tight but all you could think about was the man you left back in King's Landing, the man you could no longer love, the man who sat upon your mother’s throne. 

“(Y/N) I-” Rhaenyra tried, she didn’t want to part on bad terms. Anything could happen until the next time she lays her eyes upon you. You put the scroll in the pocket of your riding trousers, and begin to fiddle with the silver knot ring on your index finger. Your beloved ring your Uncle Aegon had given you on your last name day. 

“I best go, It’s a long journey and I need to prepare Silverwing.” As if hearing your conversation with your mother, your beloved dragon turned her body with a loud roar and made her way towards the dragon pit. As you turned your body to leave, your mother grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into her chest.  “You are my eldest child and my only daughter, promise me you will be safe. Be vigilant. I love you.” hearing your mother’s words, you couldn’t resist any longer. You wrapped your arms around your mother’s waist and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I love you mother.” With one last kiss upon your temple from Rhaenyra, you turn from your mother and head toward your chambers to pack some of your belongings. 

The journey to Winterfell was a long and cold one, you made a mental note to thank Baela when you next see her for reminding you to pack warm. Holding onto your saddle, with one hand, you lean forward and give Silverwing a good few pats. “Māzigon va hāedar” (Come on girl.) you encourage your beloved companion. The high valyrian rolling of your tongue naturally. As Winterfell came into view, you bit your lip looking for a place to land. “Tegon Silverwing.” (Land Silverwing.) Following your command, the majestic dragon scans the white covered land and makes her descend, just outside the castle gates. 

“DRAGON!” smiling to yourself you can’t help the little laugh that escapes your mouth from hearing the panicked shouting and seeing people flea around the courtyard. Silverwing huffs, as though the Northern folk are just over reacting. Once Silverwing had come to a stop, she lowered herself down to the ground, making it easier for you to climb from her back. As you walked towards the gates guarding the castle, your eyes scanned the people coming towards you slowly, all following behind a man who you could only assume was Cregan Stark. Seeing the group of men walking towards you, Silverwing let out a warning roar, making the Northern men halt in their advance. 

“Gīda Silverwing.” (Calm Silverwing.) Your eyes lock with the stormy gray eyes of Lord Stark, you take in his appearance, from his brown hair falling into his handsome face, his broad shoulders, his ancestral sword sat on his back. He was tall, and you hated to admit your mother was right, but he was in fact good looking. You lifted your head, a teasing glint in your eyes as you silently challenged Cregan to walk towards you. 

Unbeknown to you, Cregan Stark was stunned from seeing a dragon outside his castle gates, but shockingly it wasn’t the giant beast that had him at a stand still, it was you. Princess (Y/N) Velaryon. It would seem your mother’s title had been passed down to you, as you were in fact The Realm’s Delight in his eyes. He had never seen a woman so breathtakingly beautiful before, his eyes trailed down your body before returning to look upon your face, not caring that you had caught him shamelessly admiring your body. 

“Princess, It is an honor. Winterfell is at your mercy.” Cregan spoke loudly to you in formality, still a bit of distance between you. “We weren’t expecting you to travel North so soon.” The young lord spoke once more as he walked towards you, despite the uncertain looks from his men and the warning look coming from your dragon. 

“Lord Stark, I have a letter from the Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.” You spoke confidently, as you pulled the scroll from your pocket, you held out your hand, not moving an inch. Silently daring Cregan to come within touching distance of Silverwing. Cregan smirked at you  as he slowly walked closer towards you and your fire breathing dragon. Silverwing let out a low rumble causing Cregan to halt for a few seconds before he continued in his pursuit. He knew you wouldn’t let your dragon kill him, your mother needed his support and his men, but he still decided to play into your hands. 

As Cregan came to stand in front of you, it was then you noticed the height difference, he was at least a head if not two heads taller than you, having always been a bit on the smaller side, yet another thing your uncle Aemond would tease you about. Cregan bowed his head in respect before taking the scroll from your outstretched hand. 

The young wolf opened the scroll in front of you, his stormy eyes scanning the message written in ink. His eyes met yours as he gave a slight nod of his head, looking behind you at your dragon, Cregan held out his hand for you to take. “Let us discuss this over food and drink.” Slipping your soft hand in his rough larger one, you followed the young lord through the iron gates. 

“Get a few sheep for the Princesses dragon, it has been a long journey for them.” Cregan commands one of his men, as he leads the way to the castle entrance. The man who had received the command looked at the beast with a gulp, suddenly feeling faint, Silverwing shook her head at the pale looking man knowing she wasn’t getting her meal anytime soon.

[adabird]

MHA BOYS - reactions +headcannons

REACTING TO GETTING A CALL THAT YOU WERE INJURED!

!Aged up characters! Readers 16+ please!

Should I start writing for the girls in UA? WARNING, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, so I apologize for any mistakes!

(I’m thinking about writing about some U.A teachers, let me know who you want to be written, and any kind of theme!)

Iida Tenya-

THE PACER?

THIS. MAN. The second he gets the call that you are hurt, whether it was while you were on hero duty or stuck as an innocent bystander, he’s right by your side holding your hand. Now, Iida is a very work involved person, so when he called his assistant to block his work hours for the next 42 hours, they were really surprised. But he’ll be at your beck n call, I mean, really this man will get you anything you want. You don’t even have to ask! Flowers, your favorite drink + snacks, he’ll also make sure you get a good hospital room. He’s also the type to pace the floor, with a book in his hand. (Make sure you answer all his ‘I love you’s’ because on the inside this man is panicking..)

Monoma Neito-

!THE YELLER!

As we ALL know, Monoma is very self involved so when he hears that you, his s/o, his love, his everything is hurt, he’ll try his best to help you. He would cancel or leave his hero shift for that day, wait for your health status, then decide if he’ll need to take anymore days off. But he try’s really hard to make you comfortable, and he tries to put himself in your position. He’s definitely the type to yell at your side kicks ( if you were a hero) or yell at the “hero” that was on call when the incident had happened. This man is definitely stressing!

Shinsou Hitoshi-

!THE CHAIR SITTER! (hehe..)

BOYYY. MM MM. I definitely feel like he’d fall asleep, and accidentally leave his phone somewhere, so while he was searching for it, one of the big tvs would be broadcasting an incident that occurred. And while the news agent was releasing who was hurt, your name was called out he would absolutely panic. Like I tell you he’d start running to every hospital, and med-tec center just to find you. But once he sees the condition you’re in his ‘dad mode’ would kick in. And he would remember all the talks Eri’s therapist gave him about staying calm when bad things happen. Definitely goes to the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. Kind of like a, embracing the situation at hand, type of thing. He’d sit by your side for as long as it takes to make sure you’re okay..

Kirishima Eijiro-

THE RUNNER

This man is a big gigantic teddy bear. He may seem intimidating to villains but all his fans know he’s a loving individual. So, when he was at a meet and greet and one of his fans started to yell at him “RED RIOT, RED RIOT, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT Y/N AND THE MAJOR INCIDENT?” He would immediately place his hands in a low-position, indicating to his crazed fans to please be quiet. It immediately became silent as he asked that person to repeat what they had said. The person repeated “Y/N? THEY WERE INJURED IN THAT INCIDENT ABOUT 4 MINUTES AGO!” everyone gasped, I mean they all love you two together so hearing that was a shock. After this he immediately drove to the local hospital, calling his gruffy pomeranian friend crying. Safe to say the second they allowed this man in your room he was all over you, showering you with love..

Tamaki Amajiki-

‘SOFT’ JITTERS

This boy is so baby coded, the second he heard y/n, his lover, was injured he immediately got in contact with the people that were with you. Suddenly all of his shaky-voice + body movements were eliminated. He was trying to hold things together once he heard how sever the incident was. And he would most likely call over his close friend Mirio. He, and Tamaki would stay over in your room, ordering food and chatting. Anything to help his best friend and his S/o. Mirio would also make sure the paparazzi were contained and away from the room. 

Mirio Togata-

THE NEGOTIATOR

Mirio is definitely the kind to pray. To whom? he doesn’t know. Whether it’s to the gods or to his ancestors. He’s known to be the person that cheers everyone up, including his friends, during stressful situations. However, once it comes to you, his walls break immediately. He needs to know you’re okay, he needs to hold your hand, telling you in a soft voice that ‘everything will be okay’. But the hospital staff workers must refuse any visitors, they really all feel bad for him, and YOU but you would have been really injured. He even tries to pull the ‘I’m the number 5 top hero” but once that doesn’t work he’ll definitely panic. (he always feels bad bringing up his ratings) - he was just really worried. but once your parents grant his access he’s all up in your grill, making sure you know he loves you with all his heart.

Denki Kaminari-

THE SHAKER

He’s all shaking when he hears you’re hurt, just like Tamaki Amajiki! But really he’d be in the waiting room, when a nurse comes out telling him he can come into the room. And once you tell him everything that had happened he’d immediately be on the phone calling people to deal with the situation. He’s definitely the type of person to jump into the bed with you and hop under the scratchy covers and crack jokes to make you laugh, in reality, hearing your laugh helps his anxiety.

Bakugou Katsuki-

(should I write a one-shot about this?)

‘ACTION’

MAN. MAN. MAN. He’d be forced by his publicist to dress into a tux and join Pro Hero Deku, for a convention. Of course, he and Izuku are close now but he’s getting agitated with all the flirty questions, flirty touching, and tightness of his dress shirt. He just can’t wait to come home to you. That being said, when a Secret Service agent comes to whisper that Y/N has been attacked protecting a child, he stands up so fast he also most flips the table. Luckily, Izuku caught it. He immediately had a cab called, half way in the process of loosening his tie, and taking off his suit jacket is when you called him. Telling him everything was okay but you were injured and trapped where you were. You had made him grit out a promise from a clenched jaw, that he would save the child first and not you. He made sure to bust into action, and placing you in the best hospital known to man.

Izuku Midoriya-

THE PUSHER

Izuku would most likely be on work hours when he caught news of you being hurt, and he would immediately stop everything. You’re his e. v. e. r. y. t. h. i. n. g. Like dead ass, he would be jumping building from building searching, and feeling for you. He’s immediately calling his publicists, asking them to make sure the media isn’t as obsessed with the incident at hand. When he leaves the hospital to get your favorite foods all media lines come in and surround him, asking him questions. He would repeat ‘Not comments at this time’ and ‘No answers at this moment’. He made sure he could take you home, creating a safe spot for you to have an “at home” hospital room. Man… he gets so jittery..

Tokoyami Fumikage-

THE YELL-STRESSOR

As he became a high end hero, he controlled dark shadow extremely well. There had been no slip-ups in 6 years. Well, that was until he got the message that you had been severely wounded, and you had just finished surgery headed to your room. Let’s just say he was livid, and so was dark shadow. How could they not contact before hand, he could have supported you, his love. But now, he can only assure you he’s there? You mean after the fact? When he arrived at the hospital he started to yell at the doctor, including his assistant for being incompetent. He’s usually quiet and keeps his words on the down-low, but after seeing you, he’ll definitely tear up. I’m sure dark shadow comes out himself to lay over you and sulk. (he loves you soo so so sooo much)

YOU GUYS!!! I really want to write a one shot on the Bakugou one, but I feel like it’s embarrassing if nobody requests it. I don’t know, anyways should I? Let me know. As always don’t be afraid to ask or give suggestions for whatever character in MHA you want.

(I’m thinking about writing about some U.A teachers, let me know who you want to be written, and any kind of theme!)

Also, I completely forgot my try, and tries. IM SORRY. Please correct that but at one point I just started to wing it.

Anywho!

-Onie out!

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Lemon Cakes

I just...I had an idea and I was emotional about S2E7 (beware spoilers!!) so I wrote a thing. We're not taking S2E8 into account, and we're assuming Brimby managed to escape from Eregion. Anyway, enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Celebrimbor (RoP) x Half-Elven Healer!Reader

[A/N: This contains mild references/innuendo so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, yearning, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, minor descriptions of the same, spoilers for RoP S2E7, crying, kissing, both think their feelings are unrequited but they're very requited, nudity, mild references to male anatomy.

~*~

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and fears that I didn't bother noting where I was going. All of Eregion was safe, so it didn't truly matter which pathway I took. However, it still would have been wise to do so.

Wisdom wasn't exactly the foremost concern in my mind at that moment. Court whispers, idle gossip, occupational politics...those had unfortunately taken center stage as I hurried through - was I in Eregion's gardens? Grudgingly, I supposed that the hedges were a dead giveaway that I'd somehow wandered into them without realizing. I'd been drawn to them countless times over the decades that I'd lived in the city. Ending up there should not have been a surprise.

My mind dwelled - foolishly, perhaps - upon my worries. How was I supposed to ignore what they were saying? It wasn't as if the other healers were trying particularly hard to hide the fact that they despised me for my heritage. After all, in their eyes a Peredhel - one of Half-elven descent - could never do as well as someone who possessed only Elven blood. I'd trained under several of the best healers known to Elvendom, but still that was not enough for the wagging tongues attached to judgmental minds.

All I wanted was to help heal the injured, but because of my status, I was relegated to organizing supplies and sweeping the floors of the infirmary. Had I been given the chance to prove my worth and demonstrate my training, I might have been able to advance further. As it stood, however, I only had a few of the common families of Eregion who trusted me enough to tend to their wounds and ailments.

Despite my situation, I made an effort never to complain. I took what opportunities were offered and made do. After all, if I had complained, not only would I have been seen as ungrateful, but I would've been proven to be, in the eyes of those who disliked me, even weaker than I was already perceived to be. I was allowed to remain in Elven territory. Should that not be enough for one lowly Peredhel?

That didn't stop me from feeling frustrated, though. Overhearing the last of the other healers' insidious comments after a long day was what broke my resolve. As I wandered through the maze of shrubbery, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I hated that I'd let them bother me this much. Was I truly so weak-minded that I could not handle a few insults? Surely, I must be.

"Are you alright?" A warm but tentative voice called, and I tried to quickly wipe away my tears. Whoever had been kind enough to check on me didn't need to be bothered by a weepy Elleth.

"Yes, of course," I called as I posted on a faux smile and turned to find– "Lord Celebrimbor! Forgive me, hir-nin."

I began to drop into a low, deferential curtsy, but a gentle hand grasped my shoulder, stopping me.

"Please, my lady, there is nothing you have done which requires an apology." Having only seen him from a distance, I'd never spoken to Lord Celebrimbor before. I hadn't expected his voice to be so kind. I looked up, and he smiled at me.

I had never been looked at with such radiant warmth in all my life. Words utterly failed me. I should have said something - anything - but I could not seem to speak.

The light of the setting sun created a golden aura around Lord Celebrimbor's head, making him look like a heavenly being sent by the Valar. For a moment, I forgot all about my frustration and grief.

Those closest to him must scramble for even a few moments with him. How could they not? The greatest of the Elven smiths was also the most attractive Elf I'd ever met.

"There we are," he murmured as my eyes met his. "Would you perhaps like to join me?"

For the first time, I noticed he was holding a plate of lemon cakes. He'd likely come out to the gardens to relax with a sweet treat, only to find a distraught mess instead.

"O-Oh, thank you, my lord, but, truly, I do not wish to intrude," I stammered, but he let out a gentle laugh that made my heart twist in my chest.

"I will not force you, of course, but you should know that I would welcome your company," he said, glancing between myself and the lemon cakes. "Over the years, I have found that something sweet can help lift the spirit. Besides, I don't think I should eat all of these myself. My tailor would be quite cross if he had to replace my entire wardrobe."

I doubted a figure like his could ever be diminished by the insignificance of a few lemon cakes, but the need for friendly companionship was so great within me that I allowed myself to take his not-so-believable excuse at face value.

"Only if you're certain, my lord." His smile widened, and he eagerly led me to a bench nestled between a pair of pink flowering dogwood trees. Once we were seated, I finally took a moment to observe my companion. Wearing deep blue velvet robes, delicately embroidered with beaded leaves and vines, Lord Celebrimbor of Eregion sat beside me with all the gravitas and dignity of a king. His gaze was as soft as his touch had been upon my shoulder.

But he was a lord, and one of the most skilled Elven smiths in history. I was only a Peredhel. No matter how handsome I found him, common people like me did not end up with nobility.

Distracting me from my sobering thoughts, Lord Celebrimbor offered me one of the little iced cakes. I couldn't help but smile at the slices of candied lemon decorating the top.

"I must admit," he murmured as I gratefully took one, "that sweets are somewhat of a weakness of mine. The bakers whose establishments I frequent across the city have become rather aware of the fact that this variety in particular are my favorite. I fear they quite effectively know how to convince me to part with my coin."

That fit him quite well, in my opinion. The brightness of the citrus, the sweetness that tempered the flavor...nothing could have suited his personality more fully. Those cakes were light and sunny, as was he.

After we'd eaten in peace for a time, conversing quietly between ourselves about everything and nothing, Lord Celebrimbor looked at me curiously.

"If you don't wish to discuss it, I promise you are under no obligation to do so, but is there someone to whom I should speak in your defense?" I looked at him in askance, and he gave a small smile. "'Tis heinous behavior to bring such a lovely lady to tears. If there is someone who requires a stern speaking to, please consider my services in that department most humbly offered."

His gaze was so earnest and concerned that I had to avert my own lest I tear up again. None had ever offered to come to my defense before, opting instead to suggest that I grin and bear it, or that I develop a thicker skin as comments like that were to be expected for one of such low, unworthy birth.

"You are very kind, my lord, but, truly, you needn't trouble yourself." I barely dared to look back over at him after a moment's pause. "After all these years, I should have developed a thicker skin."

Celebrimbor wiped his fingers on his handkerchief and leaned a little closer to me, clearly engrossed.

"About what, my lady?"

I hesitated. It was perhaps vain, but I did not relish seeing the kindness in his eyes melt away when he realized with what sort of person he'd been conversing. But there was nothing for it. One did not simply ignore the Lord of Eregion when he asked you a question, especially not when he'd been kind enough to offer you food, comfort, and company. As much as I wanted to run, I remained seated.

"I am Half-elven, my lord," I nearly whispered, dropping my eyes to my lap where I was wringing my hands nervously. "My heritage is...somewhat of a common topic of discussion, especially with regards to my abilities."

"Abilities?" He asked gently, and I nodded my head.

"I am a healer, my lord. I was trained by some of the most skilled Elves I have had the fortune to know," I elaborated. "Truly, I do not mind helping where I can, and if it were a simple matter of my skills not being necessary, I would not be quite so frustrated, but..."

I trailed off, unsure of how to express the rest of my thoughts without sounding pathetic and childish.

"...But you've been overlooked because of who your parents were," he finished sounding somber. "My lady, I am truly sorry that you have had to endure such unjust treatment. None should behave so dishonorably, especially not here in Eregion. After all, in Lindon, our High King's herald is Half-elven. Ability has nothing to do with blood, as my people should be aware. I daresay you've likely heard some unworthy remarks, as well, for which I can only apologize. My people should know better."

I expected pity or disdain when I finally dared to look up at him again, but instead, I found only a reassuring smile and warm eyes skimming my face.

"Thank you, hir-nin, for your kindness. There was no need for you even to speak with me, much less be in my company, but I am so very grateful that you did."

Celebrimbor's smile widened, and he caught one of my hands between both of his. I couldn't help but marvel at how large they were, and how strong the calloused pads of his fingers felt. He must work quite diligently at his craft.

"It has been my honor, I assure you."

He paused, looking unsure as if considering whether he should say what was on his mind.

"Do you know, my lady, I have seen you walking in the gardens before. I should have wished you a good day or stopped to say at least 'good morning,' but I...well, I did not wish to intrude upon your peace," he said, and I looked at him in awe. "You always seem so relaxed when you are amongst nature, strolling through the starlight. Oft in the evenings, I take a break upon the balcony of my tower, and I have the loveliest view of the moonlight cascading down upon you."

He'd seen me before? I hadn't been aware that he knew of my existence, much less remarked upon the walks I took to clear my head.

"I wish I had mustered my courage earlier, however, since I cannot change my prior cowardice, I would like to focus instead upon the future. Might I have the honor of knowing you better?"

How could I have possibly refused? Why would I? That evening had been the start of a friendship that I'd never expected to have. Celebrimbor was always courteous and warm with me, allowing me to see his forge and discussing his work with me.

He never admitted to any involvement, but I suspected that he was the reason why barely a week after our initial conversation I was allowed - finally - to put away my broom in the healers' halls and begin treating patients. Even the cruel whispers and rumors died down to only the most occasional instance.

The Lord of Eregion shared my joy when my skills were begrudgingly praised, delighting especially when one of Lindon's visiting generals bore witness to my work. He was so pleased with how I'd patched up a small squad of his soldiers that I'd received a letter of thanks from the High King himself by royal messenger not long after the general had reported home safely.

Celebrimbor had been so excited for me that he'd sent his smiths and apprentices home early and opened a bottle of wine in celebration. That night, it had been particularly difficult to tamp down my growing admiration for the gorgeous Ellon who'd been so kind to me. Undoubtedly, he'd never feel more for me than friendship, but my heart did not seem to grasp that particular fact. When he finally walked me to my door and bid me sweet dreams, I knew for certain that I was doomed to love one who could never return my feelings. I was content, however, to simply be around him.

As the years passed, I slowly climbed the ranks of Eregion's healers, eventually earning the grudging respect of my peers, and the one person who had believed in me from the start seemed no less proud of me than he had from the beginning. It was not uncommon, of a free evening, to find me curled up in the uppermost room of Eregion's tower, discussing my lord's latest projects or ideas, or sharing herbal tea and something sweet from one of Eregion's bakers.

Eventually, after about a century's residence in Celebrimbor's city, and after having spent about three quarters of that as his friend, he summoned me to his tower during one of my shifts in the healers' halls. That, in itself, was not uncommon. He and his smiths were rather prone to accidents, especially given the nature of their work. Celebrimbor always asked for me personally, and as this time was no exception, I gathered a bag of medical supplies and hurried to see what might have happened.

The Lord of Eregion had been quite consumed by his latest project, and, though it was a rare occurrence, he had not discussed it once with me. I'd thought it strange that he was being so secretive, but after all, he was the Lord of Eregion first and foremost. He owed me no explanations. I thought nothing of it.

When I arrived, however, instead of seeing the forges blazing and the smiths all chattering about their work, I found only Lord Celebrimbor seated beside one of the windows, holding a letter in his hand. His forges were stone cold, and a sad, worried sort of expression played across his face.

"My lord?" I called quietly, hovering in the doorway. I felt as though I was intruding upon something private to which I ought not be a witness, but he had summoned me. I could not keep him waiting. At my quiet question, he looked up and plastered what I easily recognized as a forced smile across his lips. "You asked for me?"

"I did, mellon-nin," he said, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come, sit with me."

I did as he asked, setting my bag at my feet and looking at him curiously as I perched beside him on the divan.

"Are you hurt?" I could see no evidence of an injury, but he'd hidden them quite well before.

"Oh, no. No, forgive me. I hope I did not worry you," he said patting my arm gently. "Actually, this morning I received a rather important letter from High King Gil-Galad."

Silently, he held the folded parchment out to me, and I accepted it carefully. The King's seal was unmistakable upon the outer fold. My eyes skimmed the neat, swirling hand in which he'd penned his missive, and I had to reread it twice before the meaning fully sank in.

Wide-eyed I looked over at Celebrimbor whose smile now reached his eyes. He still looked rather sad, though.

"The High King wishes me to come to Lindon?" I asked feeling rather stunned. "But...why me?"

"From what I understand, he has heard many positive things about you and your skills as a healer from his soldiers and several of his friends," Celebrimbor said as I handed the letter back to him. "He wishes you to train a group of healers so that Lindon will be in good hands as Eregion is."

I was speechless. Only just managing to keep my jaw from dropping, I blinked uncomprehendingly a few times.

"You come highly recommended to him. In fact, he asked for my opinion, and I told him the truth: that you are one of the most skilled healers of your age that I have ever encountered. Your bedside manner puts your patients at ease, and you are able to tend their wounds calmly and skillfully," Celebrimbor continued, setting the letter aside and grasping my hands. "There is no one better for the position, I assure you. You will excel in Lindon as you have here."

Finally forcing my voice to work again, I found myself stammering.

"I...Did the King specify how long I would need to remain there?"

"He said it might take two years, perhaps three," he answered, and as if he could read my thoughts, Celebrimbor tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. "Eregion will still be here when you return. In any case, it was not a request. It was an order. You shall need to leave in the morning."

"That soon?" I asked feeling nerves start to bubble up within me. I was excited for the opportunity, of course, and honored beyond words that Gil-Galad had asked for me personally, but...the thought of leaving Celebrimbor and my home at such short notice frightened me.

My lord's arms wrapped around me, drawing me into a tight embrace which I returned wholeheartedly. Burying my face against his shoulder, I savored the feeling of being so close to him. I would not get the opportunity again for a long while.

"Stay here with me tonight," he murmured against my scalp, and I nodded my head silently in agreement. The pair of us barely let go of each other, and when we awoke cuddled together on the divan with the morning light streaming across our sleepy faces and rumpled clothes, there were no sufficient words to express all that we felt at this forced parting.

The final glimpse of Eregion's gates as I passed through them atop my horse, flanked on either side by guards, felt terribly final.

--

Lord Celebrimbor and I had corresponded via messengers since my arrival at Lindon, but shortly after his new forge had been built, his letters had all but ceased. I tried not to let my heartbreak show, but the High King, who had quickly caught on that my feelings for Celebrimbor were slightly more than friendly, noticed immediately.

After one of my meetings with him discussing the progress of his healers-in-training, he called me to a halt as I prepared to take my leave. His herald - my new and very dear friend, Elrond - was still there, but courteously acting as though he could hear neither of our voices as he packed away a stack of parchment.

"My lady, I have no doubt that he is simply caught up in his work," Gil-Galad said as he offered me a softer look than I was accustomed to seeing upon his regal features. "Given how Lord Celebrimbor has spoken of you in the past, he would not give you up so frivolously."

If only I believed he was right. Oh, I did not believe Celebrimbor to be cruel enough to do so, by any stretch of the imagination. I did not, however, believe myself to be important enough to deserve his attention, even after so many years of friendship.

Instead of voicing such concerns, however, I merely thanked the King for his reassurance, bowed my head respectfully, and went back to my duties.

A few silent months later, however, Elrond sought me out in the healers' halls and led me to an urgent meeting with the King. Beside a small table stood High King Gil-Galad and one of his commanders.

"Thank you for coming, my lady," the King said ushering me to a seat. He dismissed his commander, and I looked at him in askance. "I would not normally trouble you, but I'm afraid this concerns you."

I glanced up at Elrond and found a concerned, slightly guilty expression on his face.

"My lady, we believe that Sauron is in Eregion," the King said, and I felt as though I'd been slapped. "His goal is to create rings of power similar to the trio we already have. Naturally, to do this he would need a skilled smith..."

He trailed off, allowing me to come to the conclusion myself, and when I did, my stomach churned.

"Celebrimbor," I breathed, and he nodded his head.

"We are gathering our armies now, preparing to defend the city against another threat, but as we do so, we will also attempt to remove Lord Celebrimbor from Sauron's influence." Much of what the King said afterward was a blur. When he came to my particular duties as a healer, I paid close attention, noting all the preparations which would need to be made rather rapidly.

Before Elrond could leave, I dragged him into a hug and made him promise to be safe. Not long after, the rest of Lindon's army departed, and I was filling my time with work to distract myself from my fears.

--

Waiting for the High King and his soldiers to return was tantamount to torture. I had friends who were risking their lives in this conflict, of course, but even more than that, the fate of Eregion terrified me. The city had been my home for nearly a century, and I was naturally concerned for its people, but I was even moreso for Celebrimbor.

If I dwelled for too long upon that distinction, my own selfishness closed around my throat like a vice, forcing conflicted tears to well up in my eyes. When I thought of his kindness and all that he'd done for me, however, I found it easy to blink them back. I could not find it within myself to feel guilty for my concern over one so gentle and warm.

So, I waited with the other healers, giving orders where I could for casualty preparations, ensuring all of the supplies were well-ordered and accessible to all of us. Our patients would have traversed a long road home, victory or no, and we did not wish to prolong their discomfort any more than was necessary.

Horns blared at the gates a few days later, and we rushed out to receive the soldiers, injured and exhausted as they doubtless were. Fear scraped away inside me when I contemplated how many might have been lost when I saw how somber the mood was.

Tamping down my personal feelings, I moved with the swarm of healers, pulling aside all who were injured and beginning to treat the most serious problems first. We'd been working for only a few hours when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Elrond, dirty, defeated, and utterly bereaved stood at my side.

"Mellon-nin," he breathed, and I wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me fiercely, silent sobs wracking him as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Eregion..."

My heart constricted at his tone.

"The city fell," he mourned, and I felt a rising sort of panic.

"Did any escape? The people? The soldiers?" I asked, hesitating before I added, "Lord Celebrimbor?"

His nod against my shoulder brought tears to my own eyes. When he pulled back, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"The High King wishes to see you. Immediately. You will want to bring supplies with you," Elrond murmured, but I caught sight of blood-soaked fabric peeking out from beneath his armor. I waved one of my best healers over.

"Thank you, mellon-nin. I am glad beyond words to see you returned. I'll go to the King now, but you are not to leave until your injuries have been seen to. No arguments, darling herald."

He gave me a damp smile and acquiesced to my demand after stealing another quick hug.

Tucking into a bag everything that I would need to treat potential injuries inflicted upon the High King, I rushed down the corridors on the heels of the soldier sent to guide me. He would not have sent for me unless it was serious. Instead of finding the King inside, however, he was just outside the door speaking with one of his guards. Gil-Galad dismissed both guards almost as soon as I arrived.

"Thank you for coming with such haste," he said, and as I took him in, he looked dirty, bruised, but otherwise unharmed.

"I was told you required a healer, Your Grace."

"Not I, though I did send for you. Your patient is within. You needn't knock," he said gesturing to the door to his guest's rooms. I made to go inside, but he caught my elbow, drawing me to a gentle stop. "My lady, I should warn you...'tis Lord Celebrimbor."

My heart nearly beat out of my chest with worry.

"How bad is it?" I rasped, and the High King's expression softened.

"Breathe. It is not life-threatening." I nearly fainted with relief, sagging heavily against the wall and allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. Gil-Galad placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "He was being held and manipulated by Sauron. He was chained to his forge with unbreakable restraints. The only way he could escape was to...remove one of his thumbs."

My eyes snapped up to meet his in utter horror at what Celebrimbor had been forced to do simply to preserve his own life. Finally, I forced myself to draw a steadying breath.

"Is there any swelling? Inflammation?" I managed to ask, and the King shook his head.

"No, there have been no complications thus far," he said, but he hesitated a moment. "I called for you, not because of the severity of his injury, but because he needs you. He rested only fitfully in his saddle. He called out for you...wept in his sleep."

Me? He'd called out for me?

"You are the greatest comfort he could have, my lady. He may not yet know that he has your love, but he needs it nonetheless."

I straightened as heat spread across my face. Gil-Galad had known of my feelings for Eregion's lord for some time, but we'd never discussed it so openly before. Oh, certainly he'd eluded to the subject before, giving subtle hints and encouragement when our correspondence effectively ended, but this...

"Thank you, Your Grace," I said in the steadiest voice I could manage. I hoped he understood that I didn't just mean for the reassurance. When he bowed his head and took his leave, I faced the door, steeling my nerves as I pulled it open–

And my breath froze in my chest. There, kneeling upon the ground in the middle of the floor, staring out into the sunlit garden, was Lord Celebrimbor. He seemed not to notice my entry. Closing the door behind me, I walked slowly over to him. Seeming both penitent and relieved, Eregion's lord remained stationary as the golden light of day poured across his skin. Dirt, grime, and dried blood covered him, but he was still the loveliest sight I'd ever laid eyes upon.

"My lord?" I murmured quietly, setting aside my bag as I knelt beside him, and with a slow blink, he roused himself from whatever thoughts had so captivated him. Slowly, he turned to face me, and amidst the dirt on his face, there were tear tracks.

His lips parted in surprise when he saw me, and when I offered him a gentle smile, he lifted his uninjured hand, caressing my face as if he could not believe that I was truly there.

I leaned more solidly into his touch, closing my eyes against the rising emotions within me, and a broken sob of my name tore from his lips.

"Y-You're here. You're real," he croaked as he began to weep. I drew him into my arms without a moment's hesitation. Clutching at me as if I might disappear, Celebrimbor fell to pieces in my arms. I could do no more than whisper reassurances and press gentle kisses atop his head.

An Ellon as sweet as he did not deserve to feel as terrible as he clearly did. The urge to smite Sauron - to rend him in half with my bare hands - grew with every tremble of my lord's frame beneath my hands.

In fragments, he spilled the story to me, explaining all that had happened between himself and Sauron - including how he found fragments of one of his letters to me in the corner of his forge where the manipulative bastard had thrown it. Hushing Celebrimbor's subsequent apologies, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, trying to soothe him.

Eventually, his tears dried up, his breathing became steadier, and he lifted his head from my shoulder. Without thought, he cupped my face with both hands. A grimace twisted his features and he began to whisper shame-filled apologies as he pulled his injured hand away.

I caught his wrist carefully, and pressed my own fingertips gently against his lips to silence him. Celebrimbor looked stunned even as his cheeks reddened.

"Have you forgotten that I am a healer, my lord? You needn't apologize. I have seen and treated much worse." His shoulders dropped a small measure at my reassurance, and I turned my attention to his poor hand. At least the cut had been clean. It was already beginning to heal quite nicely, but it would still need a little help. "Truthfully, this is doing quite well. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Anything," he breathed, and the sincerity in his eyes tore at my heart.

"It would be wise for me to give this a preliminary wash, then cover it in a protective layer so that we can get the rest of you clean. Afterward, I should be able to patch you up much easier, but only if that is agreeable to you," I said, but he was already nodding his head.

"Yes. Yes, entirely agreeable," he said beginning to smile tentatively again. "I shall humbly submit to any treatment you think is necessary."

My breath hitched in my throat. How could he still be so trusting even after everything that had happened? I vowed to myself that I would never abuse his trust. I loved him too much to even consider such treachery.

"Let me fetch a basin and send for a bath to be drawn, and I shall be right back," I promised, and he drew a shaky breath as I stood.

I was only apart from him for a few moments, but when I returned with the basin of water and the supplies, he looked up at me like he'd never been happier to see me. The joy radiating from him even beneath the dirt and dried blood covering his skin relaxed a ball of tension that had resided in me since I heard about the threat to him and his city.

He was here. He was alright. And Sauron had not broken that which was most important: his spirit.

Setting everything beside us, I laid a towel across my lap and gently pulled his sleeve back past his elbow. Shuffling a little closer so that neither of us would strain ourselves in the reach, I began to clean his wound, as well as his arm so that he needn't get it wet during his bath.

As I worked, we fell into a companionable silence that was only broken when a few strands of hair fell into my face having escaped my hair ribbon. With a touch lighter than a smith should ever have, Celebrimbor moved them behind my ear, his large, warm fingertip brushing over the point.

He'd never done that before.

I looked up to thank him, and I was taken aback by how close we were to each other. My nose was barely an inch from his. I swallowed heavily, forcing my heart, racing though it was, to remain silent.

"Thank you, my lord," I whispered. His breath caressed my skin, and I forced myself to look back down and finish my task. He did not need to be bothered with a childish infatuation. Why, oh why was professional distance so difficult to maintain around him?

Wrapping a few protective layers over the freshly cleaned wound, I tied it off carefully. It was a bit looser than I would normally make a dressing, but it was only meant to last long enough for a bath.

A knock sounded at the door as I finished up, and that, thankfully, was the announcement that it was ready - apparently the speed was thanks to High King Gil-Galad's foresight. He'd ordered the water drawn and heated when he sent for me, to be delivered when I asked.

Once we were both on our feet, however, Lord Celebrimbor seemed to freeze, nerves playing across his features.

"Is something amiss? Are you in pain?" I asked, but he'd shown no sign of it thus far. He drew a deep breath, his cheeks turning a bright red.

"You needn't do this if you...if this causes you discomfort, I'm certain I could manage." He sounded so embarrassed. At my confused expression, however, he elaborated. "I do not wish to be improper. To force you to see...well, more of me than is decent."

The precious man. Was that all he was worried about?

"There is no need for shame," I murmured, "in my occupation, nudity is as common as leaves on trees. I shall touch you no more than is necessary, and the moment you wish for privacy, you need only tell me, and you shall have it."

Celebrimbor seemed relieved, which wasn't surprising since Sauron had been holding him captive. I doubted he'd been left alone for even a moment.

"I...do not wish to inconvenience you, but I...don't think I..." he stammered as he tried to compose his thoughts. "Washing might be difficult on my own. I should be able to do some myself, but the rest..."

Holding his good hand with my own, I gave him a gentle smile.

"It is no inconvenience, and you should not be made to feel guilty for daring to ask for help." After a brief hesitation he nodded his head.

"In that case, thank you, híril vuin. I would be glad of your assistance," he said allowing me to lead him to the bathroom.

Carefully, I untied the laces of his tunic, easing the fabric from his injured side and apologizing every time I even expected him to twitch in discomfort. His bare chest ought not to have surprised me; he was used to laboring in his forge. His defined musculature was well-earned. Once he was down to just his leggings, he blushed brightly, and he asked if I might step out while he got into the bath. He would still need help washing, so I would need to return, but I could easily grant him that.

"Thank you, my lady. I realize that it is silly for me to ask, but..." he shrugged and trailed off bashfully.

"It is not silly, especially if such a simple thing would help you feel comfortable. Oh, by the way, have you eaten today?"

"I believe so, but...several hours ago." Nodding quietly to myself, I formed a plan.

"Then, I shall have some food sent up. I'll just be in the other room, so when you're ready to wash, call for me," I ordered, and he nodded his head. "Do not be afraid to ask for help should you need it before then."

I expected him to protest, but he agreed easily, allowing me to pat his bare shoulder before I stepped out.

Locating the servant that Gil-Galad had assigned to us, I asked for a dinner tray, along with a plate of lemon cakes and a pot of herbal tea - a sweet combination that I knew Lord Celebrimbor favored.

Though the cakes would not heal his thumb, they were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. Something familiar that might bring him some comfort.

Ducking back into the bathroom when he called for me, I saw that my patient now lay with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rim of the tub behind him. Injured hand aside, he looked like one of the Valar lounging after a battle - a beautiful, larger-than-life figure in resplendent repose. I almost hated to disturb him.

He'd clearly managed to clean his face and part of his upper body, but his hair and back needed a little attention, along with his right arm. As I approached, I did my best to keep from looking lower than his neck, staunchly ignoring the part of my mind that was too focused on how good he looked while wet.

I moved a stool beside the tub and picked up the washcloth that he'd draped over the rim. When I looked back up at him, Celebrimbor's eyes were already watching me as a small smile stole over his lips.

"May I touch you, mellon-nin?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb the calm spell that seemed to have fallen over us both. Had his pupils blown wider, or was that my own wishful thinking?

"Of course, you may. You, of all people, need never ask," he murmured.

"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me, and I swear to you–"

Celebrimbor grasped my hand.

"I know, mîr-nin," he said leaning forward until his damp forehead could meet mine. "I trust you. You have never hurt me, nor would you ever do so."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. He'd never called me his jewel before. Surely, that was a sign of his exhaustion. Celebrimbor always had become softer and more prone to displaying platonic affection when he'd worked for too long, ignoring his own growing fatigue. As much as I wished it had meant more, I knew it never would, but as our breath mingled in this stolen moment, I felt a flicker of hope.

When we eventually pulled far enough apart for me to help him wash up, I tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than the feeling of my lord's muscles beneath my soapy fingers. Although, admittedly, I did allow myself the indulgence of giving him a small scalp massage as I washed his hair, combing my fingertips through his locks until not a single tangle impeded their flow.

Eventually, the water lost its heat, and I fetched a bathrobe and some towels from the side, bringing them closer for his use.

"If you would like me to step out..." I began to offer, but Celebrimbor shook his head.

"No. Truly, I should not have sent you out before. I was...Well, I feel much more like myself, now," he said, "and I have never been afraid of you seeing all of me. You know more of me than any other."

With a gentle smile, I moved the stool I'd been sitting on back to its place in the corner, draped a towel over my arm, and offered my lord my hands. He didn't hesitate to take them. Once he was on his feet, I glanced down to help him step out of the tub and–

Where toned thighs met, I was not at all surprised to see that his endowment was as attractive as the rest of him. And suitably sized.

My eyes met his, and I had no doubt he could tell I'd looked. Professional distance aside, I couldn't help giving him a mischievous smile.

"As I said before: you have no reason to be ashamed," I murmured, hoping that he could hear that which I was too afraid to say - the opinion which I, a mere healer, had no right to hold.

In no time at all, Celebrimbor was dry and wrapped in a soft set of silk robes. We thought it best, as he would be recovering from his ordeal for the next few days at least, to forego higher maintenance garments.

"Lemon cakes?" Celebrimbor asked as he took a seat on the divan that I'd moved farther into the sunlight - he seemed to savor it before. He looked between me and the tray as if attempting to solve a problem. "They're my favorite, but...how did you...?"

I couldn't help but smile as I crushed some herbs in a mortar and pestle, adding in some oils to bind the mixture together.

"You mentioned it the day we met," I answered. That day was one of my most pleasant memories, despite how it had started. The scent of dogwood blossoms still lingered in my memory as sweetly as perfume, lulling me back to that day as gently as a spring breeze.

"But...that was decades ago. Why would you remember something so trivial?" He asked, and looked up at him. Disbelief colored his features along with something softer - something I'd never dared to imagine seeing upon his face.

"Because it's something about you," I admitted as my heart hammered in my chest. Dropping my gaze back to the herbs, I tried to act as though I was still completely focused on creating the poultice my lord's hand required instead of my poor racing heart. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I both hoped and did not hope that he would hear me. "Everything about you matters to me."

Carrying the mortar and pestle over once I'd gathered myself, I took a seat beside him and lifted his injured hand.

"Forgive me. This will sting for a moment, but the oils should soothe the pain away quite quickly," I stated. With all the care I could muster, I scooped out part of the light green substance and dabbed it ever-so-lightly upon his wound. He didn't even flinch as I worked.

Truly, I should not have been surprised. Celebrimbor was a smith. He was used to injuries, even if they were not on par with...well, this. I'd set a broken bone in the same hand merely a decade before I was sent to Lindon, and even then he'd only let out a slight hiss of pain. Pride stabbed through me. Of course he'd escaped Sauron. How could he not with such strength?

My vision blurred as I reached for the gauze and cloth that I was meant to be covering the wound with, but I didn't truly process that I was crying until Celebrimbor brushed my tears away with his uninjured hand.

"What are these tears? Am I not meant to be the one in pain?" He asked giving me the same sweet smile he'd offered the day we met.

Turning just far enough to kiss his wrist, I tried to reassure him.

"I'm not in pain. I am more relieved than I have been in all my life." That was far too close to an admission for my taste, but after coming a hair's breadth from losing him, did I really want to stay silent for much longer? Carefully, I began wrapping his hand, ensuring that it was not too loose or too tight.

When I tied off the end over his palm, however, it occurred to me that after all he'd been through, Celebrimbor did not need a declaration of that sort after such a harrowing experience. He just needed a friend to be there with him. As that was all I would likely ever be to him, I smiled up at him and asked him how it felt.

"Perfect," he murmured in a lower, slightly rougher voice than before. Had I caused him more pain? Was the mix of oils wrong?

No. No, breathe. I'd treated Lord Celebrimbor before, and though he was the embodiment of kindness, he would've told me if something felt wrong. Perhaps he was tired? Yes, that was it. His long journey must be catching up with him. I'd noted the same when he was in the bath, so surely that was the only explanation. Carefully, I wiped my hands clean.

"We should change this in the morning and again before you go to bed tomorrow," I murmured, forcing out the professional advice that was so familiar to me. "We'll carry on like that for a few days, and see how you are healing as time progresses."

"As my healer wishes, but..." Celebrimbor trailed off, pausing as if he was considering whether to speak or remain silent. "You're...not leaving yet, are you?"

There was something vulnerable and frightened in his eyes now, something fragile that I was quite sure might break if I did leave. Instead, I smiled at him and shook my head.

"No, my lord. I will stay here with you as long as you wish," I promised, and his shoulders sagged in relief. After setting aside my supplies, I poured his tea how I knew he preferred it, and in the peace of Lindon's golden sunlight, we chatted as we used to. Since our correspondence had been so rudely prevented by a certain dark force, we filled each other in on all that we'd missed.

Celebrimbor insisted during that time, that I help him eat those lemon cakes. By the time the sun had begun to set, we'd even sent for a second pot of tea.

Amidst a lull in the conversation, Celebrimbor covered my hands with his own. My eyes flicked up to his, only to find him looking at me as if I'd hung the very stars in the sky.

"Is something amiss, my lord?"

"I should have told you years ago," he whispered. "I was a coward for so long. I only made it back here - back to you - by the sheerest of luck. I very nearly lost my chance entirely."

"After all these years, 'coward' is not a word I would ever think to call you," I said, but he shook his head.

"But I am. I have been so afraid that I would ruin the rapport that we've built," he insisted. "I am a coward, because I could not tell you until it was very nearly too late. I think a part of me hoped that if I could create something worthwhile...something to change Middle Earth, I would be worthy of risking the admission."

"What do you mean, mellon-nin?"

"My tunic!" He blurted, and at the alarm in his features, I startled.

"I don't understand. What about it, my lord?"

"Has it been taken away to be cleaned yet?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"No, my lord, I haven't had the chance, yet. I can do so now," I said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank the Valar! No, don't take it yet, but...would you bring it to me?" Without hesitation, I hurried over to the table where I'd laid his clothing and pulled out his rumpled tunic. The stained green velvet had clearly seen better days. I sat beside him once more, and he folded the top inside out. Just inside the neckline, there was a small, concealed pocket. From within it, he pulled a velvet drawstring bag.

Discarding the tunic carelessly on the floor beside him, he took a steadying breath and offered me the bag. I accepted it cautiously, in case whatever was inside was fragile.

"This was the only thing I wanted to sneak out of my forge. The only thing that really mattered besides the nine," he said sounding more nervous than he had for most of the night. Darting his eyes between the bag and my face, Celebrimbor's tongue wetted his lips. "I meant to give it to you before you came to Lindon, but...I wasn't sure if...well..."

He trailed off and swallowed nervously.

"I feel fortunate to even have the opportunity to tell you, late though I am," he murmured. "Please...open it."

Carefully loosening the drawstring, I tipped the contents of the bag gently into my palm. Gleaming silver inlaid with the purest, brightest diamonds I'd ever seen sparkled up at me. Setting the bag aside, I lifted what I thought at first was a necklace, but upon its unfurling, I realized it was something entirely different.

"My lord, this is much too beautiful for one of my station," I protested looking up at him in awe.

"Nonsense. A circlet of a static shape would not adapt well if you wanted to wear your hair in more than one style. Such an adornment was a pleasure to make...for the Lady of Eregion," the last part of his statement came out as a whisper, and I froze. "I-I realize that title would not be applicable now, because Eregion is no more, but...I still wish you to have this. E-Even if you do not feel the same affection for me that I do for you, I still believe it would complement your beauty–"

My lips met his, cutting off his rambling. How could he think I would not want him? After all this time, after a century, I would've thought that I'd failed to hide my feelings quite spectacularly on several occasions. Lingering embraces, rather obviously adoring looks, spending practically all my time with him in his study and his forge - I had not been subtle, mentally berating myself on countless occasions for overstepping my bounds.

"I love you," I blurted as soon as we separated. "Since the day we met, I have held no other in higher regard. But...my lord, I am only Half-elven. You deserve so much better than me."

"Ridiculous. Of all the people I have encountered, you have done something that no other has: you have filled a hole in my heart which I did not know existed before we met. You have given me more to look forward to than just my work and my duties," he said cupping my face so gently between his strong, calloused fingers. The softness of his smile, the lines adorning the outer corners of his eyes - everything about him was so open and vulnerable that despite all the decades of accumulated doubts and fears, I believed him. "Meleth, your light chases away even the darkest of shadows. I love you, and I would spend my life with none but you."

When his lips claimed my own, he tasted of citrus, sugar, and courage. The next morning when High King Gil-Galad asked me to report on Lord Celebrimbor's condition, he noted the gleaming silver atop my head with a conspiratorial smirk and ordered me back to my patient's side. For his health, of course. If he called out a quiet congratulatory wish as I left, well, who could comment upon the thoughts of kings?

~*~*~

Elvish Words:

mîr-nin = my jewel

híril vuin = beloved lady

hir-nin = my lord

meleth = love

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[alisonwritesimagines]

Fourth of July ~BatFam Imagine~

Summary: The BatFam celebrates the Fourth of July.

Author’s Note: WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER!!!!!

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: just fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

You had declared to your family that holidays were to be spent together. No matter what was happening, the family was to get together to celebrate the holiday for at least two hours. So when the Fourth of July finally approached, everyone had stopped to what they were doing and be with you.

"I think you got enough pictures sweetie," Bruce tells you as you took another photo of Martha in her Fourth of July get up.

"Okay. Okay. Is everything prepped? Does Alfred need any more help?" You asked.

"Everything is fine sweetie. The guests are starting to arrive," Bruce tells you.

You carried Martha over to greet your guests that you invited for tonight. You had obviously invited the league and their families to celebrate the festivities with.

The kids were having fun with their friends as they swam in the pool and throw water balloons at each other. Martha was switched off between you and Bruce so everyone could see her.

"She looks more like you," Diana tells you as she coos at Martha.

"Thank you. I needed a kid who I can say looks like me," you joked.

"Do you plan on having this one as a superhero as well?" Diana asked me.

"No. I want her far away from the vigilante life as much as possible," you tell her.

"And Bruce agrees?" Dinah asked you.

"He agrees. We have enough kids who are vigilantes here and I am helping the city with creating better resources for those in poverty to help prevent them from turning into villains," you tell the girls.

"And they said Bruce is the superhero," Diana joked.

"Mom, I can watch Martha if you like," Dick said as he walked over.

"Are you dry?" You asked him.

"Yup! Told the others I was gonna watch her and that she is not allowed to get wet," Dick tells you.

"Okay. Here you go," you say as you pass Martha over to her big brother.

You didn't want Martha to go into the pool just yet since she was just two months old. So you told the kids before the party that they had to be dry if they wanted to carry Martha.

"This is the baby of the family," Dick introduced to his friends as he carried Martha in his arms.

"She's so cute!"

"How adorable!"

The girls began to coo at Martha as she stared at the people with her wide eyes. She began to cry from the overwhelming crowd.

"Idiot! Give her to me," Jason said. Dick handed Martha over, making Jason calm her down.

"Didn't take you as the type to be able to calm down a baby," Artemis tells him.

"She's the baby of the family. We all learned on how to take care of her," Jason tells her.

"She is a cutie," Artemis said as she stared at the baby in Jason's arms.

"So I take that the kids love having a baby in the family?" Iris asked you.

"They love her. Even Damien. Though I believe Damien wants be Martha's favorite brother," you tell them.

"Hey mom. t's starting to get dark. Should we start up the fire pits and get the fireworks?" Jason asked.

"Who bought the fireworks again?" You asked.

"Me and Dick," he answered.

As much as you love your sons, you know your sons were going to get the more show off fireworks.

"Okay. Let your father know and we will start getting set up," you tell him.

Everyone set up the blankets and chairs so you all could watch the fireworks. Barry and Wally volunteered to light up the fireworks since they were fast enough to light them and get out before they get hurt.

"Mom! Want a smore?" Damien asked you as he sat next to his best friend, Jon.

"I'd love one. Thank you baby," you smile at him. Damien made a smore for you first before making one for himself.

"Alright! Who's ready for some fireworks?" Dick asked as he and Jason brought out the fireworks.

"Those better be safe enough! I don't want a fire from you two again in this household!" You yell at your oldest sons.

"Don't worry ma. We got good ones that are safe enough," Jason assures you.

"You said that last time," you say with a stern look.

Everyone took some quick family pictures before Barry and Wally lit up the fireworks. Bruce held onto Martha as she had her soundproof headphones on just in case. You sat next to him while Alfred sat next to Bruce. Your kids sat next to their friends in front of you.

As you watched the fireworks, you felt a quick kiss on your cheek from Bruce. You looked over at him as he smiled at you.

"I love you," Bruce tells you.

"I love you too."

"You did a great job in planning the party," Bruce tells you.

"Better than Taylor Swift?" You asked.

"Better than Taylor Swift," Bruce assures you. You smile at him before giving him a quick kiss.

"Thank you for you and the kids taking the night off," you tell him.

"You'll always be our first priority," Bruce tells you.

"Thank you."

"Both you and Martha," Bruce tells you.