#and for the final time (yes truly) these will be the final looks in the story :] the fun part will be seeing how they evolved in the story-

[smutoperator]

My Gamer Wife

Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

Sequel to King of Oshiri

Tags: A2M, anal creampie, (lots of) anal, asshole fingering, birthday, couch sex, cum on glasses, dildo, full nelson, gamer girl, gape, hotwife, joysticks (literally and figuratively), livestream, losing a bet, pile driver, sex on camera, (lots of) squirting, video games

Word count: 5779

In many ways, Sakura is the perfect wife. She gives you all the attention you need, invites her friends to have fun with you, and always does everything she can to satisfy you.

Except when it comes to those damn video games.

"Happy birthday, baby girl," you said to Sakura, but she ignored you. Once she put on those headphones and started playing games, it was over; she would not listen to anyone in her vicinity. Sakura was truly addicted to gaming, more than she was to you.

Sakura began her birthday livestream, saluting the massive audience she had earned over the course of her career and that now followed her gamer girl ventures. You looked at her, yet she was more worried about beating her high score in Overwatch than anything about you until she finally decided to switch that.

"Hubby, wanna play some games with me?" Sakura asked you. "Sure," you answered her, even though her obsession with gaming many times irritated you. You grabbed another joystick, even though the gap between your and her gaming skills was so massive all that was going to happen was her humiliating you in front of a huge online crowd.

"Yes," Sakura cheered as she easily defeated you. "Come on," you said, getting angry as your wife destroyed you. "Don't get angry, hubby; you just have to try harder," Sakura told you. "What are we even playing for? We should be celebrating your birthday, just you and I, none of that gaming bullshit," you told her.

"So you need an incentive, huh?" Sakura said. "My hubby really doesn't know how to play games; he needs an incentive," she continued, addressing the audience. "Guys, I'll be back soon; maybe he'll have an extra incentive once I return," she continued as she exited the frame. You looked at the messages in the livestream, all wanting you to get out and begging for Sakura to come back.

Sakura indeed came back, wearing a pair of glasses, a slim top, and gym shorts that made her look extremely hot while barely covering her bottom. "So, guys, I decided to have a bet with my hubby," Sakura said. "If I win, I get to fuck his ass, but if he wins, he gets to fuck my ass," Sakura said, shaking her cheeky butt to the camera. "I guess that's a bet I can accept," you tell your wife.

You and Sakura play a head-to-head match, her shaking her ass in front of you as a distraction. "You're obstructing my view," you tell her. "Am I?" Sakura asks as she delivers you a killer blow. "Are they crazy?" one comment asks. But you stay committed, taking Sakura's ass out of your sight.

But Sakura doesn't seem to get the memo, sitting on your lap to distract you while you two keep playing. "Come on, Kkura, can you fucking behave? There are lots of people watching; if you don't, I'm gonna shut this stream down and fuck your ass right now," you tell her. "That's not the deal we signed, hubby," she answers you.

But you manage to prevail even amidst Sakura's distractions, defeating her in a gaming battle for like the first time in ages. "Looks like my incentive paid off; he always loses to me, but as soon as my ass was on the line, he played like never before," Sakura says. "She lost on purpose," one comment says, unmasking Sakura's little facade.

"Ok, I won now. I think you should end this stream and fuck me. Your fans are probably finding it weird that you're talking about sex in the middle of playing those video games," you tell Sakura. "Not so fast, hubby, you won the bet, but today is my birthday, so I'm the one who dictates how you fuck me in the ass," Sakura answers.

"And how are we gonna do that?" you ask Sakura. "In front of all this audience, I want them to see how wild we are together," Sakura says. "Is she really gonna fuck him live on camera?" one comment asks, still in disbelief.

Sakura grabs the joystick and starts grinding on your lap, hitting higher scores the faster she moves. "Seems like she loves to play when horny," a comment says as Sakura keeps moving her hips, moaning softly as you grab her waist while she plays; keep the things going for a while. "Pull my shorts down," she tells you as you oblige, leaving Sakura wearing just a thong at the bottom of her body, showcasing her not so long but still beautiful legs.

Sakura hides the bottom of both your bodies, bringing a blanket that was on the side of the couch as you pull your pants down. She moans and makes moves that look like she's bouncing on your cock but lets the audience guess whether it's true or not. "Is she riding his dick?" one comment asks as Sakura moans.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," Sakura continues to softly moan and bounce; you grab her ass as she keeps performing for the cameras, moving your hips to thrust upward into her pussy. "FUCK," Sakura moans, almost dropping the act as you hit deeper in her pussy but staying composed and scoring new highs at the game.

Sakura removes the blanket, showing your cock was inside her pussy this whole time. "Ahhhh, ahhhh, fuck me, fuck me, hubby, oh my god," she moans as she rides your cock in front of the online audience for a bit, you spanking her ass shortly after to signal you're done.

Sakura gets on her knees and sucks your cock. "Time for some live blowjob," she tells the audience, jerking and sucking your cock off like a truly professional slut, making loud noises doing so. "Oh my fucking god," you say as she deepthroats your dick and spits all over it.

You slap your cock in Sakura's face, her making crazy expressions for the audience watching while sucking your cock. "You're such a loud bitch," you tell her as you grab her hair and fuck her face, putting your shaft on the side of her cheeks while she dives to suck your balls.

"Hubby, sit down; I want to see you doing a challenge," Sakura says. "What kind of challenge?" you ask her. "Here, grab the joystick while I suck your big joystick. Let's see how well you can do with your wife blowing you off in front of a crowd," she says.

"I'm so wet right now, so turned on," Sakura says as she pulls her thong to the side and fingers her pussy before diving down to suck your cock. "Oh my God. You're fucking insane for doing this, you know?" you ask her. "Yes, I'm insane for that big nice cock," Sakura says.

"I can't wait to have it inside me again, especially in my ass," Sakura says as she bobs her head harder on your cock. "You're getting quite distracted, not paying much attention to that game right now, are you?" Sakura asks, ramping up the intensity of her blowjob.

"You're really losing your concentration, hubby, aren't you?" Sakura asks. "You really have the best cock ever," she continues, moving her head even faster on it. "I'm gonna get this cock nice and wet to fuck me; it's going to slide so easy in my pussy, baby," she says, moving like crazy on it, deepthroating your shaft countless times as your concentration goes further away.

Sakura can no longer resist her urge, sitting her pussy on your cock and blocking your view. "Oh, I love using that cock so much," she says, rubbing her pussy as she goes back to riding it. "Oh right there, that's what I fucking want, your big fucking cock inside me, hubby, yesss, make me cum, let me use it," Sakura says.

"I'm so horny now, oh fuck," Sakura moans as she picks up the speed riding your cock. "I think you're gonna have to choose, hubby, this video game or my pussy, because I'm gonna keep riding you, yeah, yeah, yeah," she says. "Oh fuck," Sakura moans as she spins on your cock. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she loudly moans, letting her audience know how good she's feeling.

"You're doing good in that game; it turns out my pussy is a great incentive for you, hubby," Sakura says. "I guess I need to bounce harder," she continues, doing just what she vowed to do.

"Give me this," Sakura says as she picks the game controller from your hands and delivers another wonderful display of gaming. "She might be the best gamer in the world when she gets a big joystick up in her pussy," someone in the chat comments.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH SHIT," Sakura screams as she squirts hard while reaching another high score. "Damn, she's got a whole fountain in her pussy," someone comments. She lies on the couch and lets you eat her pussy while she keeps playing. "Oh yes, hubby, taste those juices; I love when you do that to me," she says.

Sakura squirts all over your face. "Oh yeah, don't stop, baby, lick that pussy," she begs as you dive all over it, paying special attention to her meaty clit. "Oh my god, yes, that's perfect; you're doing so good, hubby," Sakura says as she almost drops the controller. "Oh fuck, oh yeah, yeah, I'm gonna keep playing; push me to the next level," Sakura begs.

Sakura sits on your face, performing a 69 while still playing. You put a couple of fingers in her asshole, prompting her to immediately react. "AHHHH," she screams. "Calm down baby, this prize is for later," she then says, before going back to bob her head on your cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you ask Sakura as you put your middle finger deeper in her anus. "AHHHHH," Sakura moans. "That's all I need to know," you tell her as you keep eating her pussy and fingering her butthole, Sakura answering by choking hard on your cock while playing with the controller. "Oh shit," you groan. "Oh my god," she groans.

"Take those shorts off," you tell Sakura as you increase the pace of the finger-fucking in her asshole. She obliges, leaving you just with your t-shirt while she stays, sucking your cock and massaging your balls. "Fuck, baby," Sakura says as she bounces her ass in your face and her head on your cock, you tonguing her pussy hard.

Sakura rides you in reverse now, you now placing your thumb in her asshole while she bounces on your cock. "Oh, I'm so wet, yes, yes, that's so good; put that finger up in my ass," she begs. "Oh, that ass feels so fucking tight," you tell her as she continues to ride, choking her and slapping her face. "My wife is such a fucking whore," you say to her.

Sakuke claps her cheeks against your hips. "OH, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD BOUNCING ON THAT COCK," she screams. "PUT YOUR FINGER IN THERE," she begs as you match her ride by spanking and finger-fucking her ass. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she moans, spreading her legs and letting you thrust up. "FUCK HUBBY, FUCK THAT PUSSY, AHHH," she continues to scream.

"I love bouncing up and down on that cock," Sakura says as she moves faster than ever, you grabbing and spanking her butt. "YES, BABY, FUCK," she screams again before pulling out of your cock and sucking it a bit.

Sakura pulls a lever and unfolds the couch, lying her body in a vertical position with her ass up. You spank your wife's beautiful butt as she keeps playing the game, spreading her cheeks and massaging them as you tongue her pink asshole and spit on it.

"Ohhh baby, you can't distract me," Sakura says as you focus on eating her ass. She moans loudly as you tongue her fuckholes. "That's why I lost that bet on purpose," she tells you as she shakes her ass in your face. "I could tell," you answer her.

"You love this ass, don't you, honey?" Sakura says as she bounces it in your face, shaking it up and down and left and right. "Get in there with your tongue," she says, putting her ass up. "Honey, I'm so fucking horny," she says.

You tease Sakura, rubbing your shaft between her cheeks, much to her enjoyment. "Oh yes, rub that cock in my cheeks," Sakura says. Soon, you poke your cock in both her entrances, taking it back in her pussy. "Oh yeah, oh fuck," Sakura moans as you bang her in the prone position, her asshole winking for you. "OH SHIT, IT FEELS SO GOOD IN MY PUSSY," she moans as you thrust into it, her moving her ass to meet it.

"Fuck that pussy, hubby, AHHHHH," Sakura begs as you start clapping her cheeks. You kiss her as she smiles. "Your dick is so good inside me," she says as you tease her, playing with it by putting it in and out of her pussy before mounting on top of her.

Sakura puts herself in a fetal position on the couch, spreading her legs for you to enter her pussy in missionary position. "Oh my Gosh, baby, your cock is so big in my pussy," Sakura moans as you fuck her. She closes her eyes and lets you give her the pounding.

"Oh, hubby. I can feel your cock ready to cum at any moment," she says. "Please, baby, cum in my face," Sakura begs. "You want my cum, you fucking gamer whore? Then beg for it harder," you tell her. "Please, please, hubby, paint those glasses white," Sakura says, driving you crazy as you quickly pull your cock out of her and unleash a giant load in her face, her kissing your cock.

"We'll be back for act two soon, guys," Sakura says to the audience as she heads towards the bathroom, taking a selca and sending it for the chat before cleaning her glasses. After a while, you follow her, taking her from behind and putting a finger up her anus. "AHHHHH," Sakura suddenly screams. "My wife is so slutty; she really made me have sex in front of an online crowd on her birthday," you tell her.

"And by the looks of it, you are ready to fuck my ass in front of that crowd, hubby," Sakura says as you massage her butthole. "OH MY GOD, FUCK," she screams as your fingers run all over her asshole. "Oh yes, hubby, right there, prepare that asshole for your big cock," she says.

Sakura returns to the living room, and you are playing video games like nothing happened. "You want to fuck my ass now, hubby?" she asks. "Of course, you fucking bitch, you promised me," you answer her. "You're gonna get it, but only after I tell you," she says.

"First, you're gonna let me play some games with that joystick, Sakura said. "Sit on the floor for me," she ordered as you obliged. Sakura then started massaging your cock with her pair of pink socks, moving her feet up and down your long shaft while she played her game. "I'm working two joysticks at the same time, boys," she told her livestream audience.

"You like that, hubby?" Sakura asked as she continued to perform the footjob, quickly getting your cock back hard. "Yes, I love that," you answered. Sakura made things spicier, pushing her top up once again and showing her tits out to the audience before taking her panties completely off, getting herself fully naked for the first time.

As you pull Sakura's panties down, you bend her over in one of the couch's arms. "I know you're eager for it, hubby, taking that cake on your wife's birthday," Sakura says. Both of you get completely naked. You give her asshole a little licking and spitting before shoving your cock in it. "AHHHH, HOLY SHIT," she moans. "You asked for that big dick in your ass; don't back down now," you tell Sakura, tying her arms behind her back.

"OH MY GOD, FUCK," Sakura screams as you drill her asshole. "You like that, bitch? Getting fucked in the ass while broadcasting it live to your gamer followers?" you ask her. "YES, YES, YES, YES," she moans, grinding her teeth as you attack her ass hard.

"AHHHHHH," Sakura screams as you spank her butt. "Oh my God, you're so fucking deep in my ass, stretching me so fucking good," Sakura moans. "Deeper, deeper," she keeps begging. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, YES," she then starts screaming once you hit it hard.

"Such a good whore," you tell Sakura as you spank her ass one more time. She laughs as you finger her wet cunt while pounding her asshole. She looks at you with naughty eyes, getting close to you to give you kisses. "GIVE ME THAT FUCKING DICK, FUCK YES, OH MY FUCKING GOD," she moans as you drill her asshole harder than ever.

"RIGHT THERE, BABY," Sakura tells you. "Cum for me," you command as Sakura's butthole clenches around your cock, signaling her anal orgasm is close. "AHHHHH," Sakura squirts all over the couch as you make her cum. "Fuck, that was so good," she says.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sakura moans loudly as you get deep in her ass; more spankings follow. At this point, she's forgotten about those videogames, barely able to reach to grab the controller. "OH MY GOD, HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP," she screams as the anal pounding keeps going.

You put Sakura in a spooning position on the couch, ready for another round of anal drilling. "Right there, nice and slow," your wife whispers as you wrap your arms around her, teasing her asshole by going in and out of it. You lift her leg, taking it very slow as you massage her pussy. "Yeah," Sakura moans.

"OH MY GOD YOUR COCK IS AMAZING," Sakura screams as you pick up the pace. You admire the gape in her asshole as you put a pair of fingers in her cunt, Sakura reacting with out-of-breath moans as you resume drilling her butt. Your balls clap hard against her ass. "OH FUCK BABY, THAT FEELS GOOD," she moans, kissing you.

"My ass is all yours, hubby; stretch it out, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Sakura says as she gets in a fetal position sideways. "I love that so much," she says. "Let me taste my ass," Sakura begs, you pausing the fucking a bit to let her bob her head on your cock again, taking advantage of it and thrusting upwards, which only makes Sakura go crazier and dive for your balls.

"Put it back, baby," Sakura says as she goes back to the spooning position. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP," Sakura says as she enjoys the hard pounding you give her on the couch. "What do you like more, those stupid video games or my cock deep in your ass?" you ask her. "Your cock in my fucking ass, always, hubby," she answers.

"Oh, it feels so deep," Sakura says as she goes back into a bouncing position, massaging her pussy as she sits on your cock. "Oh baby, I love this so much; your cock feels so good in my asshole," she says. "Right there, baby, right in that fucking hole," she continues to beg.

"Oh baby, what are you doing?" Sakura asks as you wrap your hands between her legs. Quickly she realizes what it is as you lift her legs up in the air, ready to pound her ass in a very submissive full nelson. "FUCK BABY, AHHHHHH," Sakura moans as you hammer her ass like crazy. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH BABY," she screams as her ass gets drilled at a very hard speed.

"Yes, baby, stretch me open like that, fuck yeah," Sakura smiles as she gets pounded into submission, fingering her cunt despite being wrapped in a full nelson. "Oh, it feels so deep; I love when you fuck me that way," she tells you as you free her, letting Sakura taste her ass from your cock once more while fucking her face as she tries to deepthroat you.

"Get them," Sakura says as you grab the video game controller back, she watching you get great scores while she jerks your cock off. "Looks like you got some great motivation," she says as she keeps sucking your cock. "Oh my God," you groan, Sakura grabbing the controller and playing the game while she savors your cock.

You put Sakura back in a fetal position on the couch, this time standing up as you get ready to fuck her more. You give a couple of thrusts in her pussy to tease her. "Oh, it's so good," she says before switching to her asshole. She carves her fingers deep in her cunt as you fuck her. "Just like that, baby, pound that ass," she begs as you now play with her cunt, fisting your whole hand inside it while you destroy your wife's ass.

You place your thumb in Sakura's mouth for her to taste her pussy while also playing with her tits as the anal pounding continues. She closes her eyes and spreads her butthole with her hands, showing you the ever-growing gape you deliver to it. "Keep it open for my cock," you tell her.

"I can spend all day getting that ass fucked in front of my fans," Sakura says. "Like the slut you are," you tell her, choking her neck as you fuck her ass faster. "OH MY GOD," Sakura screams, the gape in her asshole growing larger and larger. "Keep fucking my ass like that, hubby, please," Sakura begs as you play with her whole body.

"Give it to me, baby; don't stop fucking that ass," Sakura begs, grabbing the controller and scoring another big kill just as you destroy her ass. "OH SHIT," she screams. "You want fucking more, you gaming whore?" you ask Sakura. "Of course I do," she says.

You put Sakura in a mating press position, pounding her as you firmly stomp your left foot in the couch. "Oh, that's hot," Sakura says. "Damn, they are doing some hentai shit," someone comments as the camera captures the perfect angle of your cock penetrating Sakura's butthole at a straight angle, hard and deep.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, DESTROY MY ASS," she begs, you two sharing kisses while her asshole gets obliterated. You attack it harder than ever, Sakura losing her breath as your cock hits the depths of her asshole while you kiss her. "I find it so hot when you fuck my ass like that," she says as you groan with her tight butthole squeezing your cock out.

"Show your fans how large your gaping asshole is," you tell Sakura, putting her pink anus in close sight of the stream camera and playing by putting your cock in and out of it. "OH YES, BABY, FUCK, THAT'S SO HOT," Sakura moans. "She should do this more often," someone comments.

You put Sakura on the top of the couch, pushing the camera in your direction. "Oh yeah, keep fucking me, hubby," Sakura begs as your cock takes multiple deep stabbings in her asshole. Her body jiggles as Sakura tries to keep her balance while spreading her legs wide open. "Yes, pound my fucking ass, baby. FUCKKKK, OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT," Sakura screams as you quickly change the pace.

You make Sakura deepthroat your cock, making it wetter for another session. "Yes, put it back, right in my ass, fuck," Sakura begs and gets it, you alternating between hard and deep thrusts. "You're so good, hubby, fucking your wife right in the ass on her birthday, yesss," Sakura says.

"Oh yes, baby, touch my pussy just like that," Sakura begs as you penetrate her ass and pussy at the same time, your cock and your fingers in perfect sync. "Damn, that's so hot," someone comments as the livestream audience keeps growing the harder you fuck your hot, needy gamer wife. "OHHH FUCK, DON'T FUCKING STOP," Sakura begs, both your cock and fingers deeper and deeper in her holes.

"I'M GONNA CUM AHHHH," Sakura screams as she unleashes a massive gush of squirt into the camera. "Damn, she's getting it all wet," a comment says. "Squirt for me, baby, show how much of a whore you are for this cock, entertain your audience," you tell Sakura, making her squirt a few more times. "Damn, she's got a whole geyser in her pussy," someone says.

"Let's get to the floor," you command to Sakura, who quickly gets upside down with her legs over her head, spreading her butthole for you to enter again. Quickly you penetrate Sakura in a pile driver position, Sakura with her head on the floor as you keep stretching out her asshole. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE," she begs as she fingers her cunt for the audience.

"Fucking take that ass, baby," Sakura says to you as she zooms the camera into the action, capturing your cock going in and out of her butt perfectly. "Look how thirsty her pussy is," someone comments as you put your finger back in her clit and she suddenly starts to squirt. "FUCK, IT FEELS SO GOOD," she moans to the camera, her legs spread wide open almost as if she were like her groupmate Kazuha as you fucked her balls deep.

"Keep fucking that ass until you fucking cum," Sakura begs as your cock bulges under her belly, her tits bouncing as your thrusts get harder and harder. You stretch your body all over the couch, now occupying the entire camera frame as

Sakura gets pounded hard, her head smashing to the floor with your thrusts.

You take a little break and bring a real-sized dildo toy, shoving it into Sakura's ass and showcasing her massive gape to the camera. "Yes, hubby, show them my pink butthole," Sakura begs as you zoom deep into her anal cavity. After a couple of thrusts with the dildo, you feed it in her mouth for Sakura to taste her ass while you fuck it, muffling her moans in the toy while the real thing destroys her pink anus.

"I want to taste my ass from your cock too," Sakura says, and you promptly oblige, shoving your cock in her mouth while she plugs the dildo back in her butt. "It's going really deep; it looks like I stretched it out quite well already," you say to her as you fuck her face before getting back up and thrusting the dildo in her ass.

"Which one do you prefer, my cock or the dildo?" you ask Sakura. "I like any of them, as long as they are fucking my ass," she answers you. "Then let me do it more," you tell her, replacing the dildo with your cock while Sakura spreads her ass.

"OH YEAH, JUST LIKE THAT, RUB MY PUSSY, HUBBY, AHHHH," Sakura moans as she puts her legs completely over her head. "I didn't know you were flexible like that," you tell her. "Let's say my friend Zuha taught me a thing or two about that," she answers.

"GIVE IT TO ME, FUCK ME BABY," Sakura begs as she's completely pinned to the floor. You turn around, smashing her as viewers get to see your ass while you fuck Sakura's, her legs now over her head as she moans like the good Japanese whore she is. "You like your hubby's big cock deep in your fucking slutty ass?" you ask her. "Hell yeah," she answers.

"HMMMM, AHHHH, OH FUCK," Sakura moans as she fingers her cunt, giving the viewers another wonderful squirt show. "Look at her pussy exploding," someone says as she keeps squirting. "YES, HUBBY, POUND MY FUCKING ASS, AHHHH FUCK," she screams as another gush of juices hits the camera, you toying with her asshole, going in and out of it.

Sakura puts a pair of fingers in her asshole and stretches it out. "Keep it open," you tell her. "Yes, hubby, take it; you won the bet; you can fuck that ass all day if you like," she begs as the gape in her asshole only grows larger and larger.

"I sure aren't done with it," you tell Sakura, grabbing a pillow and lying on the floor. "Sit on that dick and show your audience how much of a whore you are for it," you command to her as Sakura quickly impales her already stretched-out ass on your cock.

Sakura moves up and down, showing her beautiful oshiri to the audience as she bounces on your cock. You give her no rest, pumping it from down low. "OH YES, FUCK ME LIKE THAT," Sakura begs as you thrust like crazy, giving her no second to breathe, grabbing and spreading her ass.

"JUST FUCKING USE MY ASS, HUBBY, OH MY FUCKING GOD, PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM," Sakura begs as you drill her ass like a madman. "Damn, he's really wrecking her," someone comments. "SHIT," Sakura screams as you spank her butt. Tying her arms behind her back, she tries to react and bounce on your cock, but you keep relentlessly attacking her ass, grabbing her body in your direction and using her like a fucktoy.

"Come on, you fucking slut, you said you wanted this," you tell Sakura, giving her another hard spanking. "He's turning her cheeks really red," someone says. Sakura obliges, bouncing as hard as she can on your cock, using your thighs as a support as she rides. "OH FUCK, GOSH," she then screams as you keep pumping, reaching to grope her tits while doing so.

You and Sakura keep dueling with each other, but you ultimately come out on top despite being on the bottom. "HOLY SHIT," she moans again as your hands are all over her tits and your big cock is all over her butthole. "I'm so blessed to have a slutty wife like you, Kkura," you tell her as Sakura just turns into your free-use anal toy, your cock hitting her ass deeper than ever.

"YES, FUCKING SPANK ME, HUBBY, AHHHH," Sakura begs as you print the palm of her hands all over her butt. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sakura screams, your thrusts trying to make her lose her balance. "Damn, he's fucking the shit out of her," someone comments.

"Smile for the camera," you tell Sakura, turning her body around and showing it to her fans as you fuck her ass. She grinds her teeth as her perky nipples bounce. "SHIT," she curses again, your thrusts being so hard she's almost levitating, her fingering her pussy. "OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, YES, YES, YES," she screams as her cheeks get clapped.

"Just fucking use my ass," Sakura begs, putting both fingers in her cunt, ready to squirt again as you pound her butt into oblivion. You reach from behind and start finger-fucking her cunt. "PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM, AHHHH," Sakura begs, you spanking her perky tits as she starts to close her legs, rolling her eyes and shooting another geyser of squirt into the camera.

"AHHHH I'M CUMMING," Sakura announces as her pussy turns into a juicy fountain one more time. You grab her neck as she squirts, Sakura bouncing on your cock as she keeps emptying all the juices on her pussy, grinding hard and showing how much of a whore she is.

Sakura sits back in the couch as you cuddle her with kisses, never keeping your hands out of her throbbing, squirting pussy, jerking your cock off in anticipation for one more round. "Keep stretching that ass; don't fucking stop, yes, yes," she begs for you as you thrust into her on the couch, groping her tits. "PLEASE, PLEASE, DON'T STOP, FUCK," Sakura continues to beg, you clapping her clit while you clap her cheeks.

"Keep going, nice and deep," Sakura says as you grab the camera to show her reactions while you fuck her ass. "Look at her tits bouncing; she is begging for that cock," you tell the audience. "Just keep using me, yes," Sakura says, losing her breath after near an hour of fucking on camera, you hitting her face and choking her neck. "I'm gonna give this fucking slut the proper treatment she deserves for you to watch," you tell me as the livestream keeps getting record numbers.

"YES, YES, FUCK, FUCK, POUND MY FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Sakura turns into a screaming mess. You pause a bit to massage her cunt. "Squirt for them," you tell her. "AHHHHH," Sakura screams as you make her cum, going back into her pussy as you choke her.

"Use that asshole, make it all yours, hubby; just use it to make yourself cum," Sakura begs as she fingers her pussy. "I'm your fucking slut, hubby," she says. "Are you?" you ask her as you spank Sakura's face. "Yes, baby, give it to me; use my hot body for your pleasure," she continues as she smiles at you.

"Tell me, Kkura, where do you want my cum?" you ask her. "Deep in my fucking ass, please, please, fill me up, cum for me," she tells you as you continue to pound. It's been over an hour, and you're ready to bust inside your wife's loose butthole at any second.

"Oh fuck," you groan as your seeds start flowing out of your cock and painting Sakura's pink anal walls white; she smiles as she spreads her ass, letting your cum ooze out into the floor, spreading a good gape for her fans. "This is my birthday gift for my fans," she says.

"Sakura farts out your cum and licks it from the floor. "Let me taste your cum," she says, taking every single drop and making bubbles with it. "So yummy," she says as she swallows and then turns the camera off. "That's a good girl," you tell her just as the stream comes to an end.

"Fuck, that was so good; I had a lot of fun with this joystick," Sakura says. You spank her ass. "Fucking slut, you planned all of this shit," you tell her. "Of course I did; I love my hubby," she tells you. "We should do this again next year," you finish.

"For sure, and next time I'll bring some special guests to play video games with you," Sakura says.

"I can't wait."

Happy Sakura day to everybody. For it, I decided to do a sequel to what I consider to be my breakthrough fic, adding elements of another big fic of mine (Yuna's "Livestream") into the story, as Sakura gets to have an amazing hour of sex on camera with her ass-obsessed husband.

[bvidzsoo]

Hiii, Esther, sorry for the late reply. I hope you're doing well! And thank you for reading! ^^

I saw the notification that you tagged me in this when I woke up at 4:30 to go to work and I have now at work finished packing everything in record time (who am I? Sonic the hedgehog?!) simply so I could read this beautiful piece of work🥹❤️

Ahhh that's so sweet, I hope it was worth the rush!

no but you don’t understand I’m so soft for these two, oh the joy to meet your soulmate like this and truly know you’re soulmates🥹like no second guessing and both being stunned to finally meet each other😭💓

Ahh yes, one can dream. I certainly wouldn't mind meeting my soulmate under a circumstance like this one. It's somehow still romantic and cute, ahhh.

as someone who doesn’t like coffee it was so nice to read that she prefers tea😭🍵 like wild berries with some honey?! Yes pls that’s one of my favorite combos🥹💗

I'm not really a coffee person so I'd rather drink a tea, but at the same time I also don't like tea...? I think I'm just very picky about which teas I like, lol, but the one you said is hands down the best. Honey and tea belong together, I rest my case here hehe! I'm glad you could relate to the MC here, I always love finding little similarities between me and the MC's.

ma’am I love him so much😭😭😭 you’re here making me fight for my life at work because ughhhh my heart I ADORE the way you’ve written them both, so jittery and eager to be with each other but also unsure where the invisible line might be drawn if what’s too much to do during your first meeting with each other and oh how I wish I could experience what they have🥺💓

I was fighting for my life while writing it as well lol, you and i are just the same here. They really are just very eager to be with each other and they don't want to waste any more time.

Im conclusion im soft this was absolutely amazing and i adore this one shot so much. It’s beautifully written and feels so wonderful and full of life!🥺💗

ahh, fighting the need to smile around your co-workers is the worst. I be reading stories left and right and laughing with little care about the world, they always give me the funniest looks lol. Thank you for your nice words once again, I'm glad you've enjoyed the even so far <3

A world in your colours

𐀔 Cherry Blossom, March Event 𐀔

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader

𐀔 Warning: none 𐀔 Word count: 6.2k 𐀔 Rating: sfw 𐀔 Genre: fluff, soulmates: you see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate, strangers to lovers, fated together 𐀔 Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

A/N: Here it is, our lovely Yeosang's drabble. I love this guy and I love this little fluffy story, man, I was smiling so widely while writing these two, they are so endearing. Despite writing a florist!au...I cannot take care of my plants for the life of me, even though I really love them...especially pretty little flowers, but oh, well, I'll have to get better at taking care of them once I move out...I hope you enjoy this drabble and let me know what you thought of it, your feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy! ^^ divider @cromernet

𐀔 Join the taglist here! 𐀔

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            Colour, as defined by everyone’s best friend, Wikipedia, is the visual perception based on the electromagnetic spectrum. Although colour is not a fundamental attribute of matter itself, the way we perceive it is intricately tied to how an object absorbs, reflects, and emits light, as well as the subtle play of interference within those light waves. That was another sentence you had long ago read on the internet, and it stuck with you. Your peers have always considered you a bit strange for your obsession with colours, but then again, in a world that was painted mostly grey with hues of brown, amber, and copper, you couldn’t help but obsess over it. It wasn’t by choice that you couldn’t see all colours…if it were up to you, you’d coat your whole life in nothing but a mess of bright and light pastels. You sighed at the reoccurring thought as you walked over to another plastic vase to grab a purple Lily to add to the bouquet. You double-checked the label before grabbing it, though; you didn’t need another embarrassing incident today.

The sole reason as to why you couldn’t see colours yet was because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. In a way, it was something you were glad for because you’d know for sure who your soulmate was. You’ve read stories written by famous novelists who fantasized about a world where your soulmate's first words directed at you would be inked into your skin, and you wondered whether that felt as magical as the author made it seem. What if five different people said the same exact words to you that were on your wrist? What then? How would you decide which was your soulmate? You didn’t like thinking about that, though, content with the reality of your world. Sure, it was a bit depressing and quite literally grey, but it also brought a sense of excitement and anticipation with it. Whenever you allowed yourself to fantasize about the moment when you’d meet your soulmate, your cheeks would burn hot, and your heart would race. You’d close your eyes and try to imagine all the vibrant colours that suddenly coloured your surroundings.

You figured it would feel overwhelming at first, making you sentimental or sending you into a panicked sobbing. You thought it would blind you and make you feel nauseous as all the colours would be suddenly as vivid as an explosion in the distance that was now right under your nose. You thought you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, that you’d need a second to piece your thoughts back together, to make sense of the situation, to tell yourself that everything was okay. That’s how you imagined you’d react, but you were always a person full of surprises, even to yourself. Besides, diving too deep into this topic always leaves you with a sour aftertaste. You were twenty-five, and your world was still gloomy, devoid of the warmth and brightness everyone around you gushed about. It wasn’t unusual to be still single by twenty-five, but most people have found their soulmates back in high school. Your parents, for example, were even luckier than that and met in middle school; their worlds suddenly filled with all colours. You were jealous of them, but you also admired them profoundly.

Their love was deep and unlike anything you’d seen before. Their respect for each other went even deeper than their love, kindness and devotion, just a few sentiments that could be added to their plate when cherishing one another. You wished for a gentle love like theirs, for quiet moments where no words had to be uttered to be understood, for genuine kindness and laughter that filled the longing in your chest. You smiled at your customer as you tied her bouquet together, getting an excited grin back in return.

“Oh, this is gorgeous!” She exclaimed as you grabbed a little butterfly sticker, searching for the perfect leaf to press onto, “My little one will love this!”

You were happy that the mother was excited; seeing your clients excited and happy over the flowers you loved so much always filled your chest with warmth. You imagined being with your soulmate felt like that, too. You handed the bouquet over to the woman once you were done with it, accepting her card when she said she had no cash.

“I’ve never seen anyone combine these colours so beautifully before,” The woman mused to herself as her eyes took in the plethora of flowers, a mixture of white, yellow, pink and even a little bit of purple in there, “You’ve got an artistic eye for it.”

You felt proud at the praise as you handed the card back, grinning at the lady as you bowed your head in gratitude, “That’s a lovely compliment, thank you so much!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell the lady that you had no idea what the flowers looked like in colour, whether the pink bow you’d tied to keep the bouquet together matched with the flowers you had chosen. The lady left soon after as she was in a rush, and you sighed, looking around the flower shop. You could tell the walls were a lighter orange, the shades a dark brown and probably your soulmate’s exact eye colour since the colour was so rich in hue. You’ve always wondered if the other colours were just as beautiful as the ones you could lightly see from time to time—or more pronounced if they were the same colour as your soulmate’s eyes—and your conclusion had always been that, yes, no matter what nuance or hue, all of it was just as gorgeous.

You thought of colours as you thought of flowers, special and unique in their ways, distinguishable and rather easy to remember once you learned their properties. Flowers have been your escape since a young age when your preschool teacher tasked you with growing little beans, encouraging you to name them and speak to them daily. After that, you had asked your parents whether you could try and cultivate your little garden in your room, and once they’ve given you the go, you had never turned back. The flower shop that you were working at wasn’t yours just yet, but its owner—a lovely middle-aged woman—was considering passing it on to you once she had grown old and tired of her business. You’d gladly take over it as you had no big plans for your future. You were content living in the place you had been born, surrounded by friends and family. You realised you were luckier than most that you could live a comfortable and fulfilled life, and that’s why you always made sure to give back to your community, even if it was something little.

You were just about to walk over to the vase with sunflowers when the doorbell chimed, signalling a new customer. You plastered a small smile to your lips and straightened your back, welcoming the man who had decided to walk inside your store, “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Hi, uhm, it’s my mother’s birthday today.” The man spoke, surprising you with his deep voice. His features were soft and relaxed; it was an unexpected juxtaposition, “Her favourite flowers are Magnolias; do you have any of that?”

You nodded your head, walking over to the vase placed right by the entrance. They were fresh as they had come in just today, so they were gorgeous as they were in bloom, “Silk Magnolias are mostly used for bridal bouquets, but I can make you a simpler one if you want me to.”

“I’d love that, please.” The man said as you two looked at each other, and for some unexplainable reason, your heart skipped a beat. You averted your eyes shily and crouched down to grab three Magnolias, your long skirt brushing past your ankles.

“They go well with Gardenias; would you like me to add some of those too?” You stood back up, realising that since the bouquet would be all white, you could add a deep red coloured ribbon to it, or perhaps even a soft pink one. The challenge, however, would be to find the right nuances since your coworker messed up some of the colours after her shift. You’d be embarrassed to ask the man for a little guidance, and that would be also you assuming that he had found his soulmate already, which would be a bit rude as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Due to you being unable to see all colours, everything inside the store was labelled with little post-it notes, bold letters stating the colour of the flowers. With that also came the shelf behind the front counter always being organised after a system that you had already memorised, no need to read the labels anymore. All ribbons and coloured foils were placed in their designated spot so that you’d know which one was which colour, but your coworker had mixed up the black and blue ones, resulting in you embarrassing yourself not even half an hour ago when a customer asked for blue ribbons and you had given them black ones. You quickly fixed your mistake, and the man wasn’t even upset, but your cheeks still burned with shame as now the man knew you still hadn’t met your destined partner.

“Uh, if you think it’ll be pretty, sure.” The man said, walking to the counter as you went behind it to organise the bouquet for him, “May I ask…what colour it’ll be?”

You froze for a second before you hummed, going over to the Gardenias to grab two of them, “White, if that’s alright.”

The man nodded eagerly, letting his green briefcase rest on the counter where it didn’t invade your space, “That’ll be perfect, my mother loves the colour white.”

You smiled as you glanced up at the man, and somehow it seemed as if the sunrays shining through the window were brighter, creating a white haze around him. He looked really pretty with his curly hair falling over his forehead, curling around his cheekbones, and you noted its copper hue with slight admiration. Afraid you were starting to stare, you lowered your eyes and started working on the man’s bouquet. You first made sure all the flowers were fresh and in perfect shape, undamaged by transport, and then cut into the ends a bit. Then you held the Magnolias together, arranging the Gardenias in between and adding a few dark green weeds for a better aesthetic. The handle of the tape was almost black, and you found yourself humming a melody as you taped the flowers together just until you’d tied the ribbon around it. You pulled the bouquet away from your face and felt the customer’s eyes on your face, almost insistent, but you kept working with a small smile on your face, catching a glance at your bright orange nails. You remembered your mother saying that colour might be a bit too bright, but since you couldn’t see it well as it was dulled to your eyes, you decided to still go for it. It was fun, after all.

You turned then and looked at the shelf behind you, tilting your head in wonder. There was the blue ribbon that had embarrassed you earlier, small white dots decorating the fabric, and you found it cute how the pastel colours blended nicely together. You glossed over the black and blue ribbons, they wouldn’t make the white pop right now. You needed something intense and eye-catching—like the burgundy fabric that would look gorgeous in contrast with the white flowers! You grinned triumphantly and grabbed it off the shelf, turning around to tie it tightly around the bouquet, making sure the flowers didn’t move while you worked on making the perfect bow, not too small nor too big. Your chest felt warm, and you were aware of your cheeks burning, but you couldn’t decide whether it had gotten warmer inside the shop or if it was the man’s eyes following your every move that made you feel shy. Nonetheless, you smiled brightly as you raised the bouquet and extended it towards the man. His eyes were slightly wide as they frantically searched your face, and you felt a little disheartened as you couldn’t decipher what his reaction meant. Was your bouquet really that gorgeous, or did he perhaps not like it and wasn’t sure how to voice his thoughts?

“Oh,” You muttered, eyebrows slightly raised as you glanced at the man’s burgundy red hair and then at the ribbon, “The ribbon matches your hair! What a coincidence…”

Your smile froze on your face, your heart stilling in your chest. The ribbon matches your hair, kept repeating in your head like a distant echo as your fingers slightly trembled, your eyes running all over the man in a panic. He was taller than you, a bit buff underneath his dark green suit, tailored to fit his body prettily. His necktie was a light orange, a lighter shade that still matched his beautifully dyed hair, his lips a cherry red much like the small heart-shaped discolouration on his left temple. Your breath stuttered in your chest as your hands fell to the counter, mindful of the bouquet in your hands still.

“You’re…”

“I am.” The man sounded just as winded as you did, a huff of disbelief leaving his mouth, “Your socks are so bright, they match your nail colour.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you laughed, looking down at your socks that peeked out from underneath your skirt. They were bright, really bright actually, a neon colour worse than your nails. You had no idea you even owned them, and you wondered why your mother had never said anything about them.

“The bouquet will be 15€.” You said as you typed the amount into the cash register, and the man nodded, opening his dark green briefcase.

“Right, thank you so much.” The man said, fumbling with his wallet as he opened it, pressing the crumpled-up money on the counter. He reached out for the bouquet but hesitated slightly, and you averted your eyes as your fingers brushed together. You had a feeling it wasn’t by accident, given that the man’s cheeks also flushed pink, eyes abashed, “My mother will love it.”

“Happy birthday to your mother.” You found yourself saying as the man pressed his wallet into the small pocket of his suit jacket, briefcase in his firm grip. You didn’t want him to leave, not yet, but you couldn’t keep him here all day…it was his mother’s birthday, after all.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, same time as today. When does your shift end?” Your heart skipped a beat as the man stumbled into the open front door as he was walking backwards, his eyes not leaving you for one second. You chuckled and bit your bottom lip, playing with the money in your hands.

“I have the morning shift; I’ll be ready to go by the time you make it here.” The man’s lips pulled into a wide smile, lighting his whole face up. He looked gorgeous, and you felt breathless as you watched him wave at you and almost get stuck on the door handle, his cheeks flushing pink again as he finally left the store with haste. He glanced back inside through the huge window, and you told yourself to hold it together until you couldn’t see him anymore, and then came the squeals you could barely contain in front of him, your heart racing a mile. You had to take a seat and press your forehead against the cool counter, and even that didn’t help the warmth from spreading throughout your body as if winter was finally over and the first spring sun was here to warm you up from the inside out. That man was your soulmate. Your fingers trembled as you raised your head, blinking hard.

The world was so…different. Everything had colour, absolutely everything, and you didn’t know how to react to it all. The counter, which you thought was a light green or blue, was actually a cute beige colour, the stickers stuck to it a whirlwind of bright colours. You traced them before looking back up, eyes taking in all the beautiful flowers. You couldn’t believe that you could see the yellowness of the Sunflowers, a little taken back that they looked mustard coloured…or was that right? You hadn’t seen mustard yet, so you couldn’t tell; you’d have to test your theory out once you got home. The Lilies, the purple ones, left you in awe of their beauty, and you couldn’t help but walk over to the blue Orchids and trace their petals with a fond smile. You wondered who the man was as you looked out the window dreamily, your heart racing in your chest uncontrollably. He was a gorgeous person, and he also seemed kind; you couldn’t wish for tomorrow to come faster. You giggled to yourself and hurried back behind the counter, hands shaking as you dialled your boss in your excitement, too eager to tell her that you could see all the colour around you now.

            Your hands trembled as you clocked out, locking eyes with your grinning co-worker. She was a bouncing ball of nerves, even more excited than you over the fact that your soulmate was supposed to show up any time now. You chewed on your bottom lip and smoothed down your kaki long skirt, your black blouse thin so you had to cover up due to the morning chill. Your warm and long coat was a bright orange, and on your way home yesterday, you had realised that orange was slowly becoming your favourite colour. Judging based on your wardrobe, littered in colours you had no idea even existed, you had concluded that even unknowingly, your world had always been infused with colours. Your mother cried, and your father jumped around in happiness when you told them about this new development, right while having dinner, accidentally slipping up by saying sunflowers were definitely not mustard coloured. You had wanted to tell them in a cosier setting, perhaps in a cuter way too, but what was done was done. Your mother then made you call your grandmother, who was groggy since she was getting ready for bed, but the soft smile on her lips told you that she was just as happy for you as your parents, co-worker, and boss.

“What was your first impression of him?” Your co-worker smiled brightly at you, fiddling with a ribbon she had difficulty tying around the thick bouquet.

“He’s just…he seems very sweet and caring.” You heard yourself saying, chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes were glued to the huge window. He was supposed to be here a few minutes ago, but then again, he hadn’t specified an exact time when he’d stop by, “His features are really delicate, but he looks manly still. I love his hair, though; it’s so rich in colour.”

“What colour is it?” Your co-worker followed up with her question quickly, too invested to pay any attention to the bouquet she was supposed to finish in five minutes.

“Burgundy, and he has a matching—” You gasped, eyes widening as the man was here. He wore a tailored suit again, a beaver brown—you’d stayed up until a very late hour last night, researching colours and hues, shades and tones, trying to memorise them all in your rush of excitement—and his tie was a darker orange. Your heart was racing furiously as it felt impossible to look away; your eyes met when the man arrived by the door. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks slightly flushed a light pink colour, and you took a deep breath before you turned to wave at your co-worker. She looked stunned, eyes frozen on the man before her grin spread wider, ushering you out the shop with a squeal. It was embarrassing, but you were more preoccupied with walking straight without having your knees give out as you watched the man open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You lowered your eyes as he hummed, stepping aside to make space for you, “Hi…uhm, it’s lovely seeing you again?”

You wanted to facepalm yourself for making it sound like a question, but the man didn’t seem bothered as he chuckled, ducking his head. His suit jacket was nicely folded over his arm, his white shirt clinging to his body. It had gotten significantly warmer by noon, but you were someone who easily got cold, so you didn’t take your coat off.

“Hi, it’s really nice seeing you, yeah.” Then, the man cleared his throat and looked up with more confidence on his face, “I didn’t introduce myself yesterday. I was honestly too stunned to function properly. My name is Kang Yeosang.”

You extended your hand to shake Yeosang’s hand, your soulmate, and blushed when your skin made contact with his. His palm was bigger than yours, and his skin was really soft, but his grip was confident and strong without hurting you. You told him your name, and his eyes sparkled under the bright sunlight, and you felt yourself unable to look away. Yeosang was gorgeous; seldom did you see a man like him. It felt slightly surreal that he was your soulmate, and you felt extremely lucky all of a sudden. You didn’t know him yet, but something told you he was an amazing person.

“Where would you like us to go?” Yeosang’s question reminded you of the fact that you were still standing outside the flower shop, quite blocking the entrance actually, and you flushed darker when you realised your co-worker was most likely watching the two of you.

“Maybe for a stroll in the park just there?” You pointed across the street, the gates of the lovely park in the heart of the city visible. Yeosang nodded enthusiastically and motioned in front of himself as a way to tell you to lead the way. As you took off, you found yourself walking as close by Yeosang’s side as you could without making it weird, and your heart hadn’t stopped racing ever since you saw him. There was something magnetic about the man, about your soulmate, and you felt like you couldn’t last another day without being in his presence. Matter of fact, you didn’t want to be since you’ve waited twenty-five years for this moment.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” Yeosang asked as you two noticed the small coffee stand at the same time and you hummed, looking at Yeosang a little sheepishly.

“I don’t like coffee, but I really like tea.” Yeosang chuckled, something like endearment appearing on his face as he grabbed your elbow gently and veered you away from the oncoming crowd of teenagers.

“That’s funny. I don’t like tea but basically live off of coffee.” You chuckled too, your eyes meeting as Yeosang walked you two over to the coffee stand. There weren’t a lot of tea options, so you settled for wild berries, glad that the vendor had some homemade honey for you to mix with your tea instead of sugar. Yeosang asked for a simple black coffee with ice, a bit of milk and one spoonful of sugar, and you found yourself reciting his order in your mind until you could recall it easily.

With your drinks in your hands, you headed for the crosswalk, having to wait since it was red for the pedestrians. The street was bustling with many people at this hour, and not everyone was as self-aware as you—and it seemed like Yeosang, too—so they either didn’t look where they walked or purposefully pushed people around to get further to the front. You had to make space for a guy on his phone, not paying even a little bit of attention to those around himself as you, too, could hear the music coming from his headphones. You tried to make space for everyone, but before you could step behind Yeosang, you felt fingers sneaking between yours, a warm palm pressed against yours as you were gently guided into Yeosang’s side. His eyes were still sparkling, his cheeks were red—not as red as the discolouration on his temple—and you thought for a second you could hear his rapidly beating heart.

“Is this okay?” He asked almost too quietly for you to hear with the honking cars and loudly conversing people, but you did catch it, and you nodded eagerly, making sure to squeeze Yeosang’s hand for extra confirmation.

“Yes! More than okay, actually.” You sounded more confident than you felt, and Yeosang was suddenly smiling widely, his cheeks pulled up and making him look the softest. Before you could do something as crazy as lean up and nuzzle your nose against his, the light turned green, and you followed the crowd, crossing the street. The walk to the park’s entrance was quiet, your hands fitting perfectly into each other’s, and you revelled in the comfort of it all as Yeosang occasionally glanced at you. The park wasn’t as packed as the sidewalks, and you could freely roam around without bumping into anyone, and yet, your hands stayed intertwined.

“So,” You spoke up, taking a sip of your tea before you faced Yeosang while walking, “What do you do for work? I’m a florist, but you know that much about me already.”

Yeosang hummed, facing you with that adorable small smile on his lips, “I’m a daycare teacher. The school isn’t far from here. You actually saved me yesterday. I was running late for my mother’s birthday dinner, and I thought there weren’t any flower shops close by.”

You chuckled, veering Yeosang away from the flock of birds that didn’t look too friendly, “Did your mother like the bouquet?”

“Yes, she loved it, thank you.” Yeosang then stopped, tilting his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I told them…my parents…that I found my soulmate, and they, well, uhm, they want to meet you. I know it’s too soon, and I asked them to wait a little bit until we’ve gotten to know each other, but they are just too impatient and excited to finally meet you.”

You felt your heart swell and almost burst out of your chest as your smile grew into a wide grin. You didn’t even realise it, but you had taken a step closer to Yeosang, smiling up at him so widely that your cheeks ached. Yeosang looked stunned for a second before he returned your smile, biting his lower lip as he averted his gaze down to the ground, “I’d love that, but I want to do what makes you feel comfortable. If you think we should wait, then we will; if not…just let me know when it’s good for you and your parents.”

Yeosang nodded, his eyes finding yours, “You are so kind.”

“You are too, Yeosang.” You chuckled, and it was your time to look down. Yeosang seemed to feel proud over that compliment before he took off, guiding the two of you through the park.

“I don’t feel like we are rushing, but I think it’s more responsible if we go on a few dates first.” You felt like a high school girl, wanting to squeal over the fact that you’d be going on dates with Yeosang, “My parents are nice people, but they are…well, they had gotten a bit desperate about me finding my soulmate. Honestly, they thought you were dead.”

Well, that thought had never crossed your mind before, but it definitely didn’t sit well with you as you looked at Yeosang with a frown. His expression looked neutral, but he squeezed your hand, “I’m twenty-seven, so they think I’m too old to be single. My parents’ families were close friends, so they’ve always known they are soulmates. They had it easy, so it was weird seeing their son struggle to find his soulmate.”

“Did it hurt you? That you sought me out without success for so long?” You found yourself asking, curious to know how Yeosang felt. He seemed to think for a second, humming as he looked down at his cup of coffee.

“It was frustrating at first, mostly because my parents were also pressuring me.” He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, then shrugged, “Then I realised I wouldn’t find you faster if I made myself mull over it, so I just let it go. Since we are fated to be together, I realised I couldn’t trick fate and quicken the process.”

You hummed in agreement, realising you’ve had a similar mindset to Yeosang’s for the past one or two years, “I’m twenty-five and had lost hope at some point. My parents, similar to yours, met very early on, in middle school. I thought I’d also find my soulmate around that time, and when it didn’t happen, I thought it would come in high school…but then that didn’t happen either, and I felt disheartened, like something was wrong with me. And then I realised I can’t push something that isn’t meant to happen just yet.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” Yeosang’s answer was quick, his hand squeezing yours as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t apologise, the wait was worth it in the end.” You giggled, averting your eyes shily.

“Yeah?” Yeosang sounded surprised, perhaps even a bit cocky, “You think so?”

“I think that you’re very handsome, Yeosang, and soft.” There was no reason to be embarrassed in front of your soulmate, certainly not when it came to complimenting him, “You have an aura of kindness and brightness around you; I think it’s everything I wanted in a partner.”

Yeosang was smiling widely again, nodding his head as he became shy once again, “You’re cute and vibrant; your smile makes my heart race. I’m thankful that you are my soulmate.”

You stopped walking, the sudden urge to hug Yeosang wasn’t something you could control, so you threw your arms around his torso and leaned into him, smiling to yourself as your head landed on his shoulder. Yeosang’s arms were quick to go around you, squeezing you into himself, and you realised he smelled like oranges and fresh grass, refreshing and calming. You loved the fresh smell of nature, and you loved Yeosang’s natural fragrance. You heard a chuckle, and suddenly something was plucked out of your hair, making your eyebrows furrow as you slightly pulled back, looking at Yeosang’s hand. A dry leaf was between his fingers, his expression amused.

“You’re like a garden fairy, do bees gravitate towards you during summer?” You laughed and shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed as Yeosang pocketed the leaf instead of letting it fall to the ground. Your cheeks burned as you two let go of each other, fingers naturally intertwining as you headed for a bench, “Why did you choose to become a florist?”

You sat down on the bench, facing each other, and Yeosang’s knee brushed lightly against your thigh. You held your cup of tea in both hands, playing with it as you looked down in your lap, “Well, I just really love nature. I’ve always felt at ease around my little plants in my room, and then I realised I just really love flowers. They are so beautiful and tender, you have to nurture them and take care of them as if they were human. I feel like I have a connection to nature; it’s like I can be completely myself around all that beauty—and the colours! Oh, I love their colours, they are so gorgeous! I’m so glad you walked into the shop yesterday. I had no idea I was missing out on—so much!”

Yeosang watched with fascination on his face as you spoke, a little overexcited that he wanted to hear your hobbies and likes. It was only normal; you’d have to gradually get to know each other, yet it still felt surreal that the sky was an almost transparent blue, the clouds completely white, the barks of the trees various shades of brown, the grass so green, all the leaves, and all the colourful flowers. You loved seeing all the colour on people, too, how they expressed themselves by their outfits, all the colours inside buildings and outside. You’d have to buy some more colourful furniture for your room since it’s mostly beige and yellow. You wanted to cover your world in the colours of the rainbow, in every possible hue and shade.

“Yes, the world is so…intense now, vibrant. It’s impressive how I could live without it all.” Yeosang’s deep voice was soft and quiet as if he was speaking to himself, “I like being in nature, surrounded by wildlife, away from the noisy city. We could go on hikes and maybe even camping.”

You nodded eagerly, having fond memories of the hikes you had gone on with your friends and family, “I’d really love that, Yeosang. I’ve always wanted to go camping, but my parents don’t like bugs, so we never stayed out after nightfall.”

Both you and Yeosang laughed at that, and then you were eager to learn too about Yeosang, “I imagine you love children since you are a daycare teacher; how did you realise that?”

“It’s nothing too revolutionary,” Yeosang chuckled, finishing his cup of coffee, “I would babysit for our neighbours when I was a teenager, and then my cousin had a baby brother, and I’d spend a lot of time with them. As I was growing up, I realised I was fond of those little ones, so…it just happened, I guess.”

You nodded, understanding him, “Would you want children?”

The answer was obvious to that, but you still wanted to ask, “Definitely, if you’d also like to have children, of course.”

Your whole face flushed, and you coughed, a little taken off-guard by Yeosang’s direct answer. His eyebrows raised and his ears flushed, and suddenly he was stumbling over his words, “I mean—like, whoever is my partner, I care about that! You know, like, whatever my partner wants—whether it’s you or someone else, not that I’m thinking of anyone else—but I’m just…yeah, I think that was too soon, wasn’t it?”

He was adorable, you had to shield your mouth with your hand as you laughed quietly, shaking your head at Yeosang, “I mean, since we are soulmates, I don’t think any topic is too soon, Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” Yeosang asked, not quite looking at you yet, “Right, I mean, sure, that makes sense.”

Comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you picked a stray string off Yeosang’s knee. He watched you quietly, taking in your serene expression, and your eyes met as you raised your head. You smiled at Yeosang without saying anything for a second, then chuckled, this whole situation feeling unreal. Just yesterday, your whole world was covered in grey and hues of brown, amber and copper—and now, your soulmate sat next to you on a bench, the world infused with so much colour you still weren’t used to it, and to top it off, your soulmate was kind and loving, good with children and soft-spoken despite his uncharacteristically deep voice. His face was gentle, his features almost as if they were sculpted by Greek Gods, his burgundy hair even curlier than yesterday as it was pinned back by a little pink bow, and it made you wonder if it was a child from the daycare that had placed it there. Yeosang’s expression looked a bit baffled as you continued to stare at him without saying a word, and not wanting to look weird, you spoke up, “I’m just admiring you because I cannot believe you are real.”

A surprised gasp left Yeosang’s lips at your words, and he didn’t shy away this time, leaning forward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You grinned as he caressed your cheek, his palm warm and his skin soft, and for a second, you forgot there was anyone else in the world beside the two of you, “I’m as real as it can be, and I’m here to stay, by your side, for an eternity, Y/N.”

And your heart skipped another beat hearing his words, your body freezing when Yeosang suddenly started leaning towards you. You were ready, if he wanted to kiss you, then you wanted to feel his plush lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as it felt like your heart was in your throat, but instead of kissing your lips, you felt something warm press against your cheek, underneath your left eye, then your right eye, and it felt more intimate than any other kiss. You bit your bottom lip and opened your eyes, staring deeply into Yeosang’s rich brown ones, an almost red-like hue licking around his irises.

“Would you like to spend the rest of your day with me, Yeosang?”

“I don’t think I want to spend any time away from you from now on, Y/N.”

And you knew in your heart, in your whole being, that the future ahead of you two was bright, vibrant, gentle, and so, so colourful.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #09 死

† leather jacket †

“You always knew alcohol could be intoxicating in its own way—but sometimes it takes a few more drops of vodka and some leather jackets for the effect to really seep into your veins."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.5k

rating: mature

content: drinking, lowkey hints being dropped, sope bantering like a married couple, truth or dare, V being a lil shit, clothes swap, sexual tension, leather jackets and their scent lingering on your body

☠ author's note ☠

OOOOP? Early chapter drop? Yup yup! Your support and enthusiasm reaching the goal for FMU 14 has truly motivated me and I was honestly SO hyped to post this and see you guys reactions? 👀

Not me having written a completely different version of how this chapter could have gone and keeping it from you all… (◕‿◕✿)

What can I say? That's what happens when you’re sad and horny. Don't worry though, I've saved it for… research purposes???

ANYWAY! There will be time for that in the future. Many times. Many, many times. cackles maniacally while typing

Is the slow burn slow burning enough for you? I don't know about you, but I LIVE for that charged atmosphere where every accidental brush of hands feels like someone dropped a toaster in a bathtub. The lingering stares! The almost-moments! The internal screaming! Beautiful stuff, truly.

And we're finally delving deeper into the plot! Nine chapters in and you finally know the reason behind the number one rule of the gang. Took long enough, right? In my defense, building tension is an art form, and I am but a humble disaster pretending to be an artist.

Also, yes, the goal is right below at the end of the chapter. It's ridiculously high because you all TERRIFY ME. Last time I set it at 100 thinking "this should take them a few days at least" and y'all demolished that in less than 24 hours. :))))) So suffer the consequences of your own enthusiasm, hoes lovely people. 🥰

Also because smut is on the horizon, and I'm 100% going to make you work for it because I'm the god of this fictional universe and chaos is my love language. Start engaging, peasants! Your frustration fuels me. 🙂‍↕️

(A bit unrelated but if you’re feeling particularly generous, I’d appreciate if you could go give some love to the stories on my wattpad? Our numbers are quite low over there! Also—reminder that the goal in Wattpad is a lot lower and it works the same as the one here, so… just sayin’.)

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The walk back to the bonfire feels like playing hopscotch between shadows and firelight. There's gang members scattered around like party decorations, laughing and drinking like it's literally their only worry.

You reach Jeon first, holding out his whisky. When his fingers brush yours, something electric zips through your skin. He takes the glass quickly—but not quick enough to hide that moment of hesitation.

"Thanks," he mutters, voice softer than usual—not as stormy as it usually is.

You just nod, trying to ignore how your skin tingles where he touched you.

Stop being a stupid bitch. 

You fish out a beer from your hoodie and pass it to Takama.

"Here."

"Thanks!" Takama's grin is always genuine, you notice.

You drop onto the bench next to Yunjin, whose bubblegum hair looks almost neon in the firelight. She brightens when you hand her the other beer.

"You're actually the best," she declares, popping the tab. "What'd you get?"

You lift your glass. "Vodka lemonade. Moon knows his stuff."

"It's weird seeing everyone so... normal," she muses, watching the crowd. "Like we're just regular people having drinks."

"Right?" You take a sip, enjoying the perfect balance of sweet and sharp. "No ranks, no murder plots. Just vibing."

She hums. "Moon's got skills though. That drink looks good."

"He's amazing at it." Another sip confirms it. "Said he wanted to own a bar once. Can you imagine? Our Deputy Commander mixing drinks in some cozy pub?"

"That's... actually kind of perfect for him?" Yunjin tilts her head. "He's got that whole calm, 'everything's under control' energy. Makes perfect sense as to why RM would choose him as his right hand."

"Yeah." You swirl your drink, thinking about what he said earlier. "Makes you wonder what everyone else wanted to be before... all this."

She goes quiet for a moment. "Weird how we all ended up here, huh? Different paths leading to the same psychotic family."

"At least the company's good." You bump her shoulder with yours.

"Yeah." Her smile turns soft. "Really good."

The vodka warms your chest, or maybe it's just the way Yunjin leans against you, comfortable and familiar.

Eunchae suddenly throws her arms around you and Yunjin, all tipsy affection and bright smiles. Her body sways slightly, using you both for balance.

"My favorite bitchessss," she sing-songs, words already slurring. "How're you doing?"

Yunjin melts into the group hug, giggling. "Just vibing. How many drinks have you had?"

"Who's counting?" Eunchae's laughing in that drunken way she has when she's on her third glass of rum. "It's a party!"

You snort, patting her arm. "Maybe slow down though? Night's still young."

"And I plan to make the most of it!" She beams like it's the most brilliant plan ever.

The moment shatters when V practically twirls into the firelight, radiating that chaotic energy that always accompanies him wherever he goes.

His smile, of course, is all teeth—sharp and bright.

"Heeeey everyone!" He throws his arms wide, commanding attention like he was born for it. "Let's remember why we're here! Celebrating our dear leader taking over after his brother got fucking murdered!"

The crowd actually cheers—because of course they do. V could probably announce the apocalypse and make it sound fun. But J-Hope steps in, doctor mode activated.

"V." His tone carries a warning. "Dial it back."

V rolls his eyes like a teenager caught sneaking out, but his grin never falters. You sense weird vibes oozing off him under that playful expression he wears—but it's like he's wrapped it in enough charm that it goes unnoticed.

Or maybe you're reaching?

"His brother's dead?" The words slip out before you can stop them. You turn to J-Hope, curiosity burning. "What happened?"

J-Hope sighs, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His fingers tap against his thigh—a nervous tell if you know how to spot one.

"It's not exactly classified," he says carefully, weighing each word. "But it's... complicated. RM wasn't always in charge. The gang belonged to his brother first."

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both leaning in slightly. This is the kind of story that explains so much about how Kkangpae operates.

About why certain rules exist.

J-Hope's face contorts in the dim light, shadows dancing over his features he debates how much to share. V watches from across the flames, that sharp smile still in place, like he's enjoying the tension he's created.

"His brother?" Yunjin's eyes go wide with curiosity.

"It's about betrayal," J-Hope says, voice dropping low. "RM's brother led Kkangpae before him. His fiancée sold him out to MDF, and..." He trails off, letting the implication hang in the air.

A chill runs down your spine despite the bonfire's warmth.

"So RM had to take over?"

J-Hope nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Nam—" He catches himself, clearing his throat. "RM stepped up when everything was falling apart. Gang was splitting at the seams, losing territory to MDF."

"Built it back from nothing," Chaewon adds quietly. "That's why he's so strict about relationships. He's seen what they can do to people."

You notice Jeon tense at that last part on your periphery, though he's trying to look uninvolved. Something flickers across his face—pain maybe, or guilt—before his expression locks down again. His fingers twitch toward the cigarette pack he can't use.

"That's..." Yunjin leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. "It explains a lot about how things work around here."

"Heavy legacy to carry," you murmur, watching RM across the fire. He's laughing at something Moon said, but there's weight in his shoulders that makes more sense now.

"Can't forget where we came from." J-Hope's eyes drift to his glass of water. "Makes us stronger, but also more careful. Trust is..." He shakes his head. "Trust is complicated here."

The conversation dies out naturally, leaving you all to digest the story. Smoke from the bonfire drifts up in weird rivulets, as if dissolving the thick fog of tension that seems to have settled over all of you. You find yourself studying RM with new eyes, seeing past the white hair and commanding presence to the brother who had to rebuild from ashes.

You can't help but wonder how many other secrets this gang holds, how many other stories wait in the dark corners of the castle.

"Must've taken some serious balls," Yunjin says softly, respect clear in her voice. "Building everything back up like that."

"It did." J-Hope responds in a hushed tone. "RM rebuilt from scratch—new recruits, stronger divisions. Dragged us back from the edge. Now look at us."

You let the weight of it sink in, watching the flames dance. Because this? This explains so much. About everything and everyone.

The strict rules, the emphasis on loyalty, why everyone walks on eggshells around certain topics.

"That's why we celebrate." JM appears beside you, hands tucked into his oversized cardigan. "Remembering where we started, how far we've come."

The energy shifts suddenly as RM approaches, beer in hand, firelight catching on his dyed hair. His smile is crooked, eyebrow raised like he knows you've been talking about him.

"Why's everyone looking so serious?" He asks, though playfully.

V materializes like he's been summoned, snatching someone's beer out of their hands like it's normal. He clinks his bottle against RM's with dramatic flair.

"Oh, just sharing tales of our glorious leader." V grins, and it sounds almost mocking—were it not for the respect clearly coloring his tone despite all that theatrical bullshit.

RM's eyebrow climbs higher, amusement flickering across his face. He takes a slow sip, eyes scanning your little group like he's reading a particularly interesting book.

"Legendary tales?" He chuckles, the sound warming the night air. "Should I be worried?"

"Just telling it like it is." J-Hope's smile is soft. "What you've built here."

Silence falls, but it's not weird, or tense or uncomfortable. Rather, it's like a brief respite where everyone can gather their thoughts, really look at RM and ponder all he has achieved.

No wonder everyone respects him so much.

"Not just me," he says quietly. "Every person here made Kkangpae what it is today."

You watch him immediately work the crowd, joking and talking with members from every division. It's impressive how he balances it all—being both the guy who can order executions and the one who remembers everyone's birthday.

You know now why people would literally die for him.

RM is not only a leader—but a mentor. A companion. A friend.

AD finally graces everyone with his presence about twenty minutes later.

And holy shit, he's wearing actual pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown over them—giving exactly zero fucks about dress codes or basic social norms.

His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he approaches, moving with his usual 'everyone here is an idiot' energy. The crowd parts for him automatically—partly out of respect, partly because nobody wants to deal with his grumpy ass when he's been interrupted mid-game.

"This meat better be worth dropping League for," he announces to no one in particular, a mix of annoyance and vague threat.

A few people laugh because, well, of course AD was gaming. Man would probably try to finish a match during the apocalypse.

You catch Jeon using the distraction to slip away, moving toward the BBQ area with that silent grace that makes him such a good sniper. His timing is s̶u̶s̶p̶i̶c̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ perfectly calculated to avoid AD.

Takama notices too, because that man apparently notices everything. He gives the group a small smile.

"Going to help with dinner prep," he says casually, but the knowing look in his eyes says he's well aware of what he's actually doing—running interference between two of Kkangpae's most complicated relationships.

You watch Takama head for the grill, where Moon and Jeon are already setting up for dinner.

AD drops into a spot near the fire, his puffer jacket rustling against pajama pants. Only he could show up to a gang celebration dressed for a gaming marathon and still command respect.

The perks of being a genius, you guess.

"He's always like this." Yunjin whispers, leaning her pink head against your shoulder. "All grumpy but like... in a way that works?"

"Yeah." You watch AD pull out his phone, probably checking League stats. "Like he exists in his own dimension but somehow still runs cyber security for a whole criminal organization."

Eunchae sways closer, definitely past tipsy now. "He's literally just a cat in human form." She giggles. "A really smart, really angry cat who can hack the government."

"That's AD for you." J-Hope's smile is fond despite his words. "Brilliant bastard works best when we leave him alone with his computers."

The conversation drifts into lighter territory, gang members sharing stories about missions gone wrong and parties gone wild.

Someone brings up the time V tried to convince everyone he could parkour off the castle roof (he couldn't), and another mentions how AD once hacked the castle's speaker system to blast K-pop when RM pissed him off.

At some point, your eyes end up drifting to the grill again, where Jeon's rolled up his sleeves to help with the meat. The distant light catches on his silver chain, on the tattoos snaking down his arms, and—

Noooope. You take a long sip of your drink.

Tonight's about having fun with your friends, not staring at your division chief like some horny teenager.

After a couple minutes, RM's got everyone hooked on some wild story about a past operation. He's actually a good storyteller—knows exactly when to pause for dramatic effect, when to throw in a joke. His white hair glows as he gestures, painting pictures of close calls and clever escapes.

Everyone goes quiet as he hits the climax, especially the new recruits like you.

Because this is more than just a story—it's their story, really. All the shit they've been through together, all the wins and losses that made Kkangpae what it is.

Movement catches your eye as Jeon comes back from the grill, empty-handed but smelling like smoke and grilled meat. His eyes sweep the crowd before landing on you for a beat too long. You don't know why you shift in your seat.

The smell of dinner gets stronger, making your stomach growl. Moon and Takama have outdone themselves, judging by the heavenly aromas drifting over.

You stretch as you stand, joints popping after sitting so long. Everyone migrates toward the food like moths to flame, and you walk behind everyone right along Yunjin.

Once it's your turn, Takama hands you a plate with a little bow, looking stupidly proud of himself. The grill's loaded with enough food to feed an army, everything sizzling and perfectly charred.

"What'll it be?" He grins, waving at the spread. "Got spicy pork, garlic shrimp, Moon's fancy chicken..."

You're still trying to decide when Jeon appears beside you like a s̶e̶x̶y̶ stealthy shadow. The heat from the grill has nothing on the warmth he radiates like a fucking stove.

"Try the bulgogi," he says quietly, like he's sharing a secret. "Moon's got a special marinade."

You turn to him, eyebrows raised. "Yeah? That what you usually get?"

His lips quirk up slightly, pupils reflecting the firelight. "I know good food when I see it. Trust me on this one."

"Fine," you match his almost-smile. "But if it sucks, I'm blaming you."

Something flickers across his face—amusement maybe, or satisfaction. "Deal. But it won't."

Takama watches this exchange with poorly hidden surprise.

"He's right though," he adds, grinning. "Moon really outdid himself tonight."

Takama loads your plate with bulgogi and all the fixings, somehow making even serving food look elegant. You catch Jeon watching you, his dark eyes lingering on you for a hot second before snapping back to the grill.

The plate feels heavy as you turn away.

Was that—

No.

You definitely didn't just see the ghost of a smile on Jeon's stupidly p̶r̶e̶t̶t̶y̶ annoying face.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge that thought along with the weird flutter in your chest. Walk back to the bonfire, where everyone has gathered once again.

You catch AD practically drooling over his plate of meat when J-Hope strikes like a particularly aggressive mother hen. In one smooth motion, he swaps AD's feast for what looks like a garden threw up on a plate.

"What the fuck?" AD stares at his new plate of greens like it personally offended his entire family. "The hell is this shit?"

J-Hope grins, way too pleased with himself. "It's called vegetables, genius. Some of us care if you die of scurvy."

"Did I fucking ask?" AD's eye twitches. "Give me my food back before I hack your medical license."

"Not happening." J-Hope holds the meat plate higher. "Your blood work was atrocious last check. You need fiber."

AD rises from his seat like a hissing cat. "Listen here, you overgrown nurse—"

"Fucking—!" J-Hope dances backward, still holding the plate hostage. "I swear to god, you're worse than a toddler—"

"At least toddlers don't have to deal with control freak doctors!" AD lunges for the plate. "Give it back before I reprogram all the hospital equipment to play Baby Shark!"

"Try it!" J-Hope dodges. "I'm not letting you die of a heart attack at thirty just because you refuse to eat a vegetable!"

They chase each other around the fire like two cats fighting over territory, completely forgetting they're supposed to be respected Council members.

Truly, the sight of Kkangpae's scariest hacker trying to tackle their head doctor over grilled meat is... something else.

J-Hope scurries away from AD's grab, his face scrunching with frustration. "God, you're so difficult. Maybe if you ate a vegetable once in your life, I wouldn't have to babysit you!"

"Fuck off!" AD snarls. "I survived this long without your fucking helicopter parenting."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's thanks to my job as Chief Medical Officer?" J-Hope throws his hands up.

"Which you're gonna lose if you—that's it." AD's eyes narrow dangerously. "I'm revoking your med bay access. Have fun treating patients from the parking lot, doc."

"Are you actually insane?" J-Hope's voice rises. "You want people to die because you're throwing a tantrum over vegetables?"

"There's plenty of doctors in your division." AD's voice drips venom.

"You little—"

"Give me my damn food," AD cuts him off, eyes glinting with malice, "or I'll double your clinic hours too."

J-Hope hands the plate back with a heavy sigh. AD's victory grin would be cute if he wasn't such an insufferable brat about it. He tears into the meat like he hasn't eaten in days, and J-Hope watches with the tired resignation of someone who's fought this battle too many times.

You don't miss how V drapes himself over JM like an overly affectionate puppy, all charm in one package. His voice drops low, honey-sweet with poison underneath.

"Your hair's like moonlight on the Han River tonight, Chim."

JM flushes pink, fingers twisting the hem of his oversized cardigan. It's weird seeing the Finance Chief so f̶l̶u̶s̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ vulnerable—usually he's all gentle smiles.

"Stop it, Tae," he mumbles, but there's no real protest in it.

V leans back, looking way too pleased with himself. His laugh sounds like dark chocolate tastes. "What? Can't admire how pretty you make yourself?"

"Not for you," JM says, but his lips twitch upward.

"No?" V's eyes glitter dangerously. "For the stars then? Giving them competition?"

JM shakes his head, laughing despite himself. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

"You love it though." V tilts his face skyward, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But you've seen him throw knives without blinking. "Admit it, Jimin. You'd be so bored without me."

"Maybe." JM's voice goes soft. Fond.

You watch them, these two opposite forces... It's like watching a mouse play with a snake, except the mouse knows exactly what game they're playing.

The fire makes V's face look almost tender, and you wonder if that smile is sincere at all.

The bonfire's died down to a gentle pulse now.

Most of the gang's cleared out, leaving just the Council and a few others scattered around.

You smell it in the air—woodsmoke and lingering BBQ smell, plus that weird mix of everyone's signature scents—cinnamon, sandalwood, fresh lemons.

Pine.

AD sways on his feet, drink sloshing dangerously in his hand.

"One more round?" His words blur together, eyes squinting like he's trying to focus on three J-Hopes at once.

SMACK.

J-Hope's hand connects with the back of AD's neck. "You're already wasted, dumbass. Put the glass down."

"Fuck off," AD rubs his neck, scowling like an angry kid. "I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what? Your last functioning brain cell?" J-Hope's eyebrow shoots up. "Remember last time? When you redecorated my clinic walls?"

"That was—" AD waves vaguely, almost falling over. "Different."

"Right." J-Hope's voice drips sarcasm. "Just like when I had to carry your drunk ass upstairs while you rambled about beating RM at Mario Kart?"

"Never happened." AD tries to stand straighter, fails spectacularly. "I never lose Mario Kart. 'Specially not to that... that dimpled nerd..."

"Sure." J-Hope watches him sway with tired resignation. "I'm not playing nursemaid tonight. Last time I practically had to read you a bedtime story."

"Got there fine myself!" AD protests.

"After decorating the hallway with your dinner!" J-Hope throws his hands up. "The recruits thought someone had poisoned you!"

Everyone laughs, because watching Kkangpae's scariest hacker get mothered by their head doctor is honestly peak entertainment.

The fire catches on AD's blonde hair as he wobbles again, and you catch J-Hope tensing, ready to catch him if needed.

For all their bickering, it's kind of s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ amusing how they look out for each other.

"Let's play truth or dare." AD's eyes gleam with drunk mischief. "Keep the party going without dying of alcohol poisoning."

Everyone shuffles closer to the dying fire, and you settle between Yunjin and Eunchae, feeling the warmth of both the fire and the vodka in your system.

"No life-threatening dares," RM warns, using his Commander Voice™ despite the slight slur in his words.

Eunchae bounces in her seat, hair vibrating with her. "I'll start!" She zeroes in on JM. "Truth or dare?"

JM fidgets with his cardigan sleeve, firelight catching on his round glasses. "Truth."

"Ever stolen from anyone here?" She leans forward, grinning.

Pink creeps across JM's cheeks. "I... maybe borrowed V's favorite lighter once? But I gave it back!"

"Knew it wasn't just misplaced." V drapes himself over JM's shoulders, smile sharp. "My little thief."

The nickname makes JM flush darker. Everyone laughs, and he quickly redirects attention to AD. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." AD's still rubbing his neck where J-Hope smacked him earlier. "Do your worst."

"Most embarrassing mission moment. Spill."

AD's cocky grin falters. "Fuck. Fine. Had to hide in a dumpster once. Got attacked by this demon cat for two hours straight. Came back looking and smelling like actual garbage."

You snort so hard your drink almost comes out your nose. Even Jeon's lips twitch, which is practically rolling on the floor laughing by his standards.

"Yeah, yeah." AD waves off the laughter. "V, truth or dare?"

"Dare, obviously." V's eyes glitter dangerously.

"Do your best Flower impression."

V stands with theatrical grace, straightening his posture until he looks eerily like your division chief. His voice goes sharp, nailing Chaewon's don't test me tone.

"Listen up, you worthless men. Touch my girls, I remove your hands. This is a crucial mission—no room for your masculine incompetence. Follow the plan or face consequences. I hate all of you equally." He pauses, then adds sweetly, "Except Jimin, of course."

Everyone loses it at V's impression, especially JM who's clapping like an excited seal. V takes an exaggerated bow before dropping back down next to JM.

"Not bad." Chaewon tries to hide her smile and fails. "But we'll work on that impression later."

"My turn." V's eyes lock onto RM with some kind of sharp focus he gets sometimes. "Boss man, truth or dare?"

RM sets his drink down, looking thoughtful. "Truth."

"Ever regret any decisions as our fearless leader?"

RM goes quiet. Something dark passes over his face, and you remember what J-Hope said earlier about his brother, about betrayal and loss.

"Yes." His voice comes out rough. "Leadership comes with its share of regrets."

Silence descends, only the crackling fire interrupting it. It's like momentarily, everyone is holding their breath, like they've stumbled onto something they weren't meant to see.

"But that's in the past." RM shakes it off, mask sliding back into place. "Jessi, truth or dare?"

"Dare." She sits up straighter, ready for anything.

"Dance around the fire." RM's smile turns playful again.

"Pffft. Easy."

Jessi jumps up without hesitation because of course she does. She moves like she fights—confident, though clearly powerful. Everyone cheers her on, the earlier tension dissolving into laughter.

"That was fun." She drops back into her seat, grinning. "Moon, truth or dare?"

"Truth." Moon adjusts his glasses, looking amused.

"Got any secret wine stashes in that castle of yours?"

"Not so secret now." He chuckles. "A man needs his vices, and good wine happens to be mine."

The game continues, everyone getting progressively bolder with their challenges as the alcohol flows.

You're about to call it a night when V's eyes land on you.

A dangerous sparkle glints on them, and you don't like it one bit.

"Your turn, princess. Truth or dare?"

You blame the vodka for what comes out of your mouth next.

"Dare."

The way V's smile spreads across his face makes your stomach drop. He looks like a cat that just cornered a mouse, which is never a good sign.

"Swap clothes with Jeon."

The group goes quiet. Your eyes snap to Jeon automatically—he's gone rigid, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. His eyebrow piercing glints as he quirks it up.

"Pick something else." Jeon's voice is sharp and direct.

"Nope." V pops the 'p', clearly enjoying this. "Rules are rules."

"This isn't—"

"What's wrong?" V cuts him off. "Scared of a little clothing swap?"

Jeon's gaze goes rigid. The fire catches his silver chain as he shifts, and you catch a whiff of pine and mint. His eyes meet yours for a split second before darting away.

"Fine." He practically spits the word. "But just the jacket."

Everyone goes quiet, heads swiveling between you and Jeon. You can practically hear V's inner thoughts as if he's considering pushing for more, but even he knows when he's pushed far enough.

Your heart does a stupid little flip when Jeon shrugs off his leather jacket. Because it's going to smell like him, you realize. Like pine and wood and s̶m̶o̶k̶e̶ whatever.

This is fine. Everything's fine. 

He walks over to you, jacket finally off him—the one he practically lives in, and jesus christ—the black turtleneck underneath fits him like a second skin. Your eyes trace the way it clings to his shoulders, his chest, every muscle clearly defined under the fabric.

You peel off your hoodie before you can overthink it, though it catches in your hair because of course it does. When you finally emerge, your white turtleneck suddenly feels too tight, too revealing.

Especially when Jeon's eyes darken as they sweep over you, and his tongue flicks out to play with his lip ring.

Something hot coils in your stomach.

You try very hard not to stare at his mouth.

His gaze feels like a tongue licking down your neck, lingering where the turtleneck hugs your curves. His Adam's apple bobs, and he wets his lips again.

You catch yourself wondering what that lip ring would feel like against your—

Stop being horny around your superior, damn slut.

The night air raises goosebumps on your arms, but you barely notice. You're too busy trying not to gawk at him again, to openly stare at how his turtleneck stretches across his pecs. Your fingers itch to trace the lines of muscle you can see through the fabric.

But then V's laugh breaks through the tension like a bucket of cold water.

Right. You have an audience.

You thrust your hoodie toward Jeon, desperate to end whatever this heat is.

His fingers brush yours during the exchange, sending electricity shooting up your arm.

You slip into his jacket and immediately regret everything.

You were wrong.

It doesn't smell like pine and wood and whatever.

It smells like leather and tobacco and something wild, like pine trees after rain. Like a fresh breeze coming through the forest on an autumn morning.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as his scent wraps around you.

Jeon looks almost p̶a̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ uncomfortable as he pulls on your hoodie. His usual fluid grace is gone, movements stiff and awkward. The hoodie that drowns you barely fits across his shoulders, and something about seeing him in your clothes makes your pulse skitter.

Okay, no. This is not fine.

Because his goddamn shoulders strain against your hoodie like it's trying to contain a force of nature.

It's weird seeing him in something so... soft?

He moves, trying to adjust in the smaller piece of clothing—clearly not his size. So it rides up, revealing a strip of tattooed skin right above his waistband.

You've seen his tattoos before.

Yet, somehow, this accidental glimpse feels more i̶n̶t̶i̶m̶a̶t̶e̶ inappropriate than all your training sessions combined.

His eyes snap to yours, catching you staring. Suddenly it feels like all oxygen has been depleted. His jaw clenches, the muscles working under his skin in a way that's suddenly very distracting.

Everything feels magnified—the rise and fall of his chest under your hoodie, the flex of his fingers at his sides, the way his silver chain slightly bounces with his breathing.

The party fades to background noise, and all you can focus on is how his presence seems to fill every inch of space around you.

He looks impossibly hot, and it's unfair, really.

It's unfair how your heart pounds so loud you wonder if he can hear it. It's unfair how there's something magnetic about him tonight, something that makes you want to step closer even as your brain screams to maintain distance.

It's in his stance, his gaze, the storm brewing behind his dark eyes.

And then he speaks, low, gravelly and utterly, utterly unfair.

"Looks like it fits you better than it does me, sunshine."

It sends shivers down your spine, that nickname again. Because the way he says it? Like it melts down his lips like honey dripping right from the comb?

Not fair.

But nothing about Jeon has ever seemed fair.

Not now, not before. Not even as you two make it back to your previous sitting spots.

But you saw it—the way something flashed across his face when he said it, like he was allowing himself that tiny reprieve. Something so wild and unguarded that had disappeared so fast you almost think you had imagined it.

Truth or Dare keeps going, each round getting bolder, but you're having trouble focusing. Your brain keeps circling back to the leather jacket wrapped around you, to the scent of forest that's definitely not helping your concentration.

Jeon's eyes find yours across the fire for the hundredth time tonight. The way he's looking at you now... It's definitely different. It makes your neck burn hot.

Because it's like every time your gazes lock, the air gets a little thicker, a little harder to breathe.

"You good?" Yunjin's whisper cuts through your thoughts. She bumps your shoulder, pink hair falling in her face as she studies you with that too-knowing look of hers.

"Yeah, just thinking." You manage a smile, hoping the firelight hides how warm your face feels.

Someone then dares AD to do aegyo and nearly gets their laptop privileges revoked. You laugh, enjoying the moment with your crew.

But you can't lie to yourself. You're still stuck in this weird bubble where all you can focus on is how Jeon's jacket feels against your skin, how it carries his warmth like it's trying to brand you.

It's not long before the bonfire burns low, casting longer shadows across familiar faces. People start drifting away in twos and threes, sleepy and dizzy.

RM stretches. "Time to wrap it up. Early start tomorrow."

"Ready to go?" Yunjin tugs at your sleeve. "I'm about to pass out."

You nod, pushing yourself up on slightly unsteady legs.

The walk back to the castle feels dreamlike, caught between the quiet forest sounds and your own thundering heartbeat. You tell yourself it's just the alcohol making everything feel so intense.

Yunjin is chattering about something and you feel kinda bad—because you're not really listening. Your brain's too busy replaying every moment by the fire, every loaded glance, every touch.

Your room feels smaller somehow when you finally get there. You close the door and lean against it, trying to get your head straight. The fabric over your shoulders heavier now that you're alone, like it's carrying more than just Jeon's scent.

You shrug it off slowly, fingers catching on worn spots in the leather. The smell of pine and wood hits you again, making your stomach do that stupid little flip thing.

You don't want to analyze what that means.

Taking a deep breath (that definitely doesn't make your head spin with his scent), you lay the jacket at the end of your bed.

It looks wrong there, too dark and dangerous against your regular bedding.

You change into pajamas quickly, like you're trying to outrun your own thoughts, and the truth is the cotton feels too soft after the weight of leather, too normal after everything that happened tonight.

Sliding under the covers, your eyes drift back to the jacket.

It's just clothing, just leather and zippers and thread. It lies there, so inanimate—and yet, somehow, so full of meaning.

The castle creaks and settles around you, leaves rustling outside your window as you wait for drowsiness to drag you under.

You tell yourself the only reason you're not hanging the jacket up is because you're too tired.

goal: 300 notes. next chapter will be posted immediately AS SOON as the goal is reached. 🧚🏻 do your thing kiki nation. <3

next | index

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@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[jungwnies]

double trouble | kimi räikkönen

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi räikkönen x fem!reader, twin sons (oc) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : when kimi räikkönen and his ex unexpectedly reunite after their mischievous twin boys swap places at summer camp, old tensions resurface—along with feelings that never truly faded.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy, family, second chance romance ୨ৎ : tws : no major trigger warnings, but mild mentions of divorce, co-parenting, and family separation. ୨ৎ : word count : 572

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was very fun to do another version of the parent trap! feel free to read the daniel ricciardo one too! <3

kimi räikkönen wasn’t a man who got easily rattled. years of racing had trained him to stay calm under pressure, make split-second decisions, and anticipate every possible outcome.

but this?

this was something he never saw coming.

standing at the doorway of his home in switzerland, nestled in the quiet countryside, kimi squinted at the small boy in front of him—his son, supposedly. except something was off.

leo had been away at summer camp. the same summer camp his twin brother, nico, had also been attending. it had seemed like the perfect way for them to enjoy time outdoors, make new friends, and not come back acting suspicious.

and yet, here he was.

smirking.

leo never smirked.

kimi narrowed his eyes. “why are you acting weird?”

the boy quickly straightened up. “me? i’m not acting weird.”

kimi just stared at him.

the kid didn’t fidget under his gaze, which was another sign that this was not leo.

“you’re not leo.”

the boy—who was absolutely nico—blinked up at him innocently. “what? that’s crazy. i am leo.”

kimi let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples. “right. and i’m the prime minister of finland.”

nico grinned. “nice to meet you, mr. prime minister.”

kimi sighed deeply.

which meant that if nico was standing here, leo was with you.

and that meant, for the first time in a long time, kimi would have to see you again.

meanwhile, in zürich…

you had barely stepped into your apartment when you heard a crash from the living room.

you rushed in, finding your son—or at least, who you thought was your son—standing over a shattered picture frame, looking way too guilty.

“leo!” you gasped. “what happened?”

the boy hesitated. “uh… accident?”

you frowned, suspicion creeping in. leo was clumsy, yes, but he was never this hesitant around you.

and then, when he carefully picked up the broken frame, you froze.

leo didn’t care about things like that.

your eyes narrowed.

“you’re not leo.”

the boy froze completely.

“…what?”

you crossed your arms. “you’re nico, aren’t you?”

silence.

then, like the little troublemaker he was, he grinned.

“would you believe me if i said no?”

you exhaled sharply.

which meant…

“oh my god,” you muttered. “leo is with kimi.”

and just like that, your day had taken a very unexpected turn.

the drive to baar, where kimi lived, was silent except for the occasional questions from leo about what was going to happen.

truthfully? you didn’t know.

you hadn’t spoken to kimi beyond the necessary co-parenting logistics. the breakup had been clean, no big dramatic fights, just the slow unraveling of a relationship that neither of you had the energy to fix back then.

but now, standing in his driveway, watching him lean against his car, arms crossed, gaze unreadable, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time.

nervousness.

kimi’s eyes flickered between you and leo, his expression unreadable. “we should’ve known they’d try something like this.”

you sighed, a small, reluctant smile breaking through. “yeah. smart little idiots.”

leo and nico, standing between you, exchanged grins, proud of their work.

mission success.

kimi glanced at them, then back at you. “so. what do we do now?”

you hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “i guess… we talk.”

his eyes held yours, and for the first time in years, you wondered….

was this really the end of your story? or just the start of another chapter?

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[theskywithin]

If the Zodiac Signs Were a Feeling You Couldn’t Explain

♈ Aries – The spark before the wildfire, the reckless thrill of saying yes before thinking it through. It’s the rush of running barefoot at dawn, the ache of wanting something so badly it burns.

♉ Taurus – The silence between heartbeats when everything just feels right. It’s the weight of a blanket on a rainy afternoon, the slow unraveling of time when you’re with someone who feels like home.

♊ Gemini – The feeling of almost remembering a dream but never quite grasping it. It’s the laughter that lingers after the joke is long forgotten, the restless buzz of thoughts that never settle.

♋ Cancer – The lump in your throat when you miss someone who’s still right in front of you. It’s the warmth of an old love letter, the pull of the ocean calling you back to a place you've never been.

♌ Leo – The first breath after surfacing from deep water, the golden glow of being truly seen. It’s the electricity of a room that turns when you walk in, the rush of being alive and unforgettable.

♍ Virgo – The sharp exhale when everything finally makes sense. It’s the relief of finding the right words after years of silence, the stillness of a freshly written page waiting to be filled.

♎ Libra – The way sunlight looks through lace curtains, the space between two hands that almost touch. It’s the intoxication of beauty, the ache of wanting everything to be perfect, just for a moment.

♏ Scorpio – The hush before a confession, the slow-motion unraveling of a secret you shouldn’t know but do. It’s the way eyes lock in a crowded room, the haunting pull of something that won’t let you go.

♐ Sagittarius – The first step off the train in a city you’ve never been to, the feeling of running toward, not away. It’s the wild laughter in the middle of the night, the wind pulling your hair in directions you never expected.

♑ Capricorn – The sound of your own heartbeat when the world is quiet, the weight of knowing you did this all on your own. It’s the satisfaction of unspoken victories, the quiet kind of strength that doesn’t need an audience.

♒ Aquarius – The eerie calm before a thunderstorm, the feeling of seeing a shooting star and wondering if someone else saw it too. It’s the solitude of being understood only after you’re gone.

♓ Pisces – The déjà vu of meeting someone and knowing you’ve loved them before. It’s the melody of a song you don’t remember learning, the feeling of dreaming while you’re still awake.

[ficsinhistory]

@wherearedagrapes

Yes!!!! Metal and Sonic are not beating being the "man vs. self" allegory allegations!!!

That's why Metal acting like Sonic, being made of his quill and seeing the Wachowskis as his parents and siblings needs to happen. Metal is Sonic without the genuine empathy, but he tries to emulate it. That's what makes him the strongest of the Metal army, the ability to imitate Sonic so well that even the memories seem to be really his!

The clash between these two will be Sonic confronting his own flaws. Both his own weaknesses but also those he thinks are strengths. I'm sure one of the reasons Sonic thinks Metal will be stronger is because the robot doesn't have the emotional baggage that he does. Except that's his strength, the empathy and love he feels that have taken him this far.

Metal in the end being unable to truly have that - both because he was born of hate and because he chooses not to be that way - will be the final slap in Sonic's face. The end he could meet if he doesn't face his traumas and learn to accept help.

That's also why, in my opinion, Amy will be so important and integral to the narrative.

Amy is the only person that Metal can't emulate a positive emotion because she's probably a long-time enemy. Not only that, Amy represents love and vulnerability. She's about acceptance and mercy while Metal is about perfectionism and isolation.

It's no coincidence that Metal Sonic, the almost perfect representation of Sonic who has nothing that he could consider flaws and could lead him to the author version and self-destructive patterns, came together with the character who represents unconditional love, forgiveness and mercy.

Amy will be Sonic's anchor in the fourth film, I know. The kind kf she'll look at him and know how he really feels, similar to how Maddie is with Tom, because she's emotionally intelligent.

And when Sonic is helped and tries to help Metal after he finds out that no, it's not about beating the other at his game but ending said game because that's not healthy, which will hit him hard when Metal inevitably doesn't accept it.

And all that will be left for Sonic is the scene of what could be him in a bad future.

In Sonic 2 and Sonic 3, Sonic reached out a hand of friendship to a foe with them accepting it. So imagine how emotionally devastating it will be when Sonic does the same thing again in Sonic 4 only for Metal to slap Sonic hand away.

[caramelarrowswife]

I was reading Burden and I really want a PT.2 where Pure Vanilla comes to the Dark Cacao kingdom because once again Dark Cacao is being as stubborn as a mule-

Burden PT.2

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Dark Cacao Cookie wasn’t afraid of many things. Dragons could be domesticated, armies could be defeated, kingdoms could be conquered…

The only thing that truly brought shivers to his spine was Pure Vanilla Cookie, who was known to be extremely calm - until he wasn’t.

A/N: I am SO sorry for my inconsistent posting. I'm currently doing an internship for school and I'm trying to force my way through Dante's Inferno in my free time so I can upgrade my writing skills. Do not read Inferno. It is absolutely not worth it.

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

“Father!” Dark Choco Cookie exclaimed desperately, chasing after the stubborn old man for the umpteenth time that night. “For Heaven’s sake, stay in bed!”

Dark Cacao Cookie (aforementioned stubborn old man) did not acknowledge his son in any form of the word. As stubborn as he was, he was also old, which unfortunately meant his (much younger) son was just a little faster than him.

Very soon, Dark Cacao was struggling in a full Nelson, shouting bloody murder as he was forcibly dragged back to his bedroom. Dark Choco shot an apologetic look at the perplexed guards who had just been told they would get executed if they did not help their king right this instant.

“Please, for the love of God, don’t sneak away again, you need rest if you want to heal,” Dark Choco said. He was just short of getting on his knees and begging for his father to stay put for the rest of the night - the prince needed his beauty sleep, too.

"Why put a border between healing and duties, when both drink greedily from my undrainable glass of concentration?" Dark Cacao asked wisely.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Dark Choco deadpanned. “It does, however, convince me of the fact you need to fall asleep now.”

“Are you telling me I’m acting delirious, boy?” Dark Cacao said angrily.

“I said no such thing.”

“You implied it, a crime far worse than telling me outright.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dark Choco sighed. “Father, Pure Vanilla Cookie would not approve of your escaping sleep.”

“Aha, but Pure Vanilla Cookie is not here, now, is he?” Dark Cacao asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“Who is to say he isn’t?” Dark Choco said, raising his eyebrows right back at him.”

“Do not tell lies, boy-”

“DARK CALLEBAUT CHOCOLATE CACAO COOKIE!”

When Dark Choco looked back at his father after twisting his head in the direction of the angry shout, he saw Dark Cacao making a run for the window.

“Hey!” The prince yelped, jumping up to tackle the other to the floor.

They rolled over the floor in a childish wrestling match that involved a lot of hair-pulling and pushing faces away. They came to a stop at the feet of an extremely unimpressed Pure Vanilla Cookie.

“Vanilla, my love!” Dark Cacao exclaimed. “You must come to my aid, our rebellious son has finally decided to overthrow his poor father-”

“What?! That is absolutely not true-!” Dark Choco said indignantly, before he was cut off by a sigh from Pure Vanilla.

“You may drop the theatrics, Dark Cacao Cookie, I have received Dark Choco’s letter, who told me all about your little adventures out of the Citadel despite my explicitly telling you not to.”

Dark Cacao narrowed his eyes at his son. “Traitor.”

“Dark Choco, my dear, would you please retreat to your room for the night? I imagine it has been tiring to take care of this old rascal on your own,” Pure Vanilla said, stepping back to let both men up.

“I am not old,” Dark Cacao said offendedly, before pausing and adding; “Nor am I a rascal. I am not twelve, Pure Vanilla.”

“Get in bed.”

“I have work to do, surely you understand-” Dark Cacao protested.

“Get in bed.”

“Yes, darling..” Dark Cacao said with a sigh, lying down with lowered shoulders.

All his hopes of escaping later throughout the night were destroyed as Pure Vanilla crawled under the covers with him.

“Close your eyes, Cacao,” Pure Vanilla murmured, wrapping his arms around Dark Cacao’s torso.

“I cannot,” Dark Cacao muttered back.

Pure Vanilla opened his own eyes, his staff resting uselessly against the wall, to meet the other’s gaze. He failed, as Dark Cacao was staring strictly at the ceiling.

“Why?”

“I.. am afraid. Of the nightmares.” Dark Cacao admitted. Why was he admitting this? He felt like a child.

A silence fell over the two rulers, and Dark Cacao looked down without moving his head to see if Pure Vanilla was still with him. He was, of course - but he was also doing the thing with his eyes, the thing Dark Cacao hated so much because it made him feel all sappy inside.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dark Cacao snarled, but it came out less commanding and more pleading than he would’ve liked.

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow. “With love and compassion?”

“With false hope.”

“It’s not always futile to hold hope in your heart, my dear,” Pure Vanilla said kindly. “I would never give you hope for something I cannot give you. But my heart? That, I can.”

“So senile,” Dark Cacao growled, turning his head to the other side. Pure Vanilla smiled - the king seemed to have forgotten his neck and ears went just as red as his face whenever he blushed.

“I will be with you, Cacao, every step of the way,” Pure Vanilla said softly. “I will help you heal, physically and mentally, and so will your friends. So will Dark Choco. The nightmares don’t have to haunt you forever.”

Dark Cacao was silent for a second, trying to find the courage to speak without his voice acting up.

“Do you promise?” His voice cracked anyway, like a child’s-

“I promise,” Pure Vanilla murmured, pressing a kiss to Dark Cacao’s jaw. “I will be by your side forever, my love, even if you don’t always realise it. I will be here for you, just like you’re always here for me, for your citizens.”

Dark Cacao let out a hoarse chuckle that sounded more like a sob than anything. “You always did have such a way with words..”

Pure Vanilla chuckled quietly, before he closed his eyes to slip into the sweet world Moonlight Cookie had prepared for them. Dark Cacao followed his example.

That night, Dark Cacao slept better than he had in months.

[hrizantemy]

The morning came slowly.

Elain had barely slept, the steady rocking of the ship keeping her body tense even as exhaustion pressed heavy against her limbs. The lantern in their small cabin flickered dimly, the air thick with the scent of salt and old wood. Somewhere above them, the distant clang of metal rang out, accompanied by the low murmur of voices and the steady creak, creak of the ship’s frame adjusting to the sea.

Nesta had slept, or at least pretended to. She had stretched out on the narrow bunk, arms crossed over her stomach, breathing deep and even. But Elain had seen the way her fingers curled into the rough fabric of her cloak, the way her body stayed rigid even in supposed rest. Nesta was waiting. Waiting to wake up and find this had been a dream. Waiting to be caught.

But they hadn’t been.

No one had come storming after them in the night. No shadows had slipped through the cracks, no voice had called their names.

They were free.

Elain exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face as she shifted, feeling the stiffness in her spine from sleeping half-upright against the cabin’s wall. She had always been a soft sleeper, comfort a necessity in the fragile balance of her peace. But this—this constant swaying, the cold dampness in the air, the rough texture of the ship’s interior—was something she would have to adjust to.

A deep, rolling wave hit the hull, sending a slow, tilting lurch through the cabin. Elain pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself, her stomach twisting slightly.

Nesta stirred then, letting out a sharp breath as her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first before sharpening in that quick, assessing way of hers. She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples before looking at Elain.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the weight of the morning settle over them.

Then Nesta ran a hand through her tangled hair and muttered, “We’re still here.”

Elain let out a slow breath. “Yes.”

No magic had dragged them back to Velaris. No wraith or Illyrian had snatched them from their escape.

Nesta flexed her fingers, glancing toward the low ceiling, toward the movement of footsteps and distant shouts above. Orders being given, the ship adjusting to the day.

Elain pushed herself to her feet, smoothing out her wrinkled dress as best she could. “I suppose we should go up,” she murmured, her voice quieter in the small space. “See where we are.”

Nesta rubbed her eyes before nodding, swinging her legs over the bunk and standing. She looked… better, somehow. Tired, worn down, but there was something missing from her face—the sharp, brittle exhaustion that had coated her like armor in Velaris.

It had only been one night.

But maybe that was all she had needed.

Elain didn’t linger on the thought as she reached for the door handle, glancing back once before stepping into the narrow passageway. The scent of fresh sea air hit her first, crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the stuffy dampness below deck.

She climbed the wooden steps carefully, Nesta close behind her, the sounds of the ship growing louder as they emerged into the morning light.

The sky stretched open before them, endless and pale, the sun hanging low over the horizon. The sea was vast, deep blue and endless, the waves rolling in slow, rhythmic motions that rocked the ship in a way Elain was still getting used to.

And Velaris was gone.

Not even a speck of land in the distance.

Elain exhaled, gripping the railing as she took it all in.

They had truly done it.

Nesta stood beside her, staring out at the open water, the wind tugging at the loose strands of her silver-streaked hair. She was quiet, her face unreadable as she took in the same sight, as if she, too, was waiting for reality to settle.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“What now?”

Elain didn’t know.

For the first time in years, there was no plan someone else had made for them. No path already carved out, no expectations pressing down on their shoulders.

There was only the sea, and the cabin waiting beyond it.

And, for now, that was enough.

The wind tugged at Elain’s cloak as she stood by the railing, the scent of salt thick in the air. The sun had risen higher now, casting long streaks of gold across the waves, making the ocean look almost endless. No land, no sign of anything familiar—just water stretching beyond what her eyes could see.

Nesta stood beside her, unmoving, her fingers lightly resting on the wooden railing. She wasn’t holding on for balance, wasn’t bracing herself like Elain still had to. As if the rocking of the ship didn’t bother her at all.

Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps, after everything, this unsteady, shifting ground beneath them was nothing compared to the storm that had been raging inside her for so long.

Elain let out a slow breath. “We should talk to the captain.”

Nesta’s gaze flicked toward her, unreadable. “About what?”

Elain hesitated, then gestured toward the open sea before them. “How long the journey will take. How often they stop. Where exactly we’ll be docking.” She swallowed. “We don’t know much beyond the fact that we’re heading to the human lands.”

Nesta exhaled, her fingers tightening slightly against the railing.

Elain watched her carefully. Her sister had agreed to leave, had stepped onto this ship of her own will, but now… now the weight of it was sinking in. They were out here, alone, surrounded by nothing but sky and sea, and soon they would be back in a world that had never truly welcomed them.

Nesta’s face remained blank. But Elain knew her too well.

“We’ll be fine,” Elain murmured, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it for Nesta or herself.

Nesta let out a quiet scoff, shaking her head slightly. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Elain frowned. “You think this is easy for me?”

Nesta’s jaw tightened. “You were always better at fitting into new places. Always better at… making things grow.” She gestured vaguely. “You can carve a life anywhere.”

Elain studied her, the way she was carefully avoiding looking at her, as if she didn’t want Elain to see what lay beneath her words.

Elain had always adapted. Had found ways to bloom even in the harshest of places.

But Nesta…

Nesta had never been good at pretending. At bending. At letting the world shape her into something else.

Elain reached for her sister’s hand, resting lightly over Nesta’s where it still gripped the railing. “We’ll figure it out.”

Nesta was still, her fingers tense beneath Elain’s, but she didn’t pull away.

A moment of silence passed, the waves slapping gently against the hull.

Then, finally, Nesta exhaled and nodded.

Elain gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go, stepping back from the railing. “Come on,” she said, glancing toward the captain’s quarters. “Let’s find out what we’re walking into.”

Nesta followed, quiet but steady, as they made their way across the deck.

The ship rocked beneath their feet as Elain and Nesta made their way toward the captain’s quarters, the deck alive with the quiet, efficient movements of the crew. Ropes were pulled taut, sails adjusted to catch the morning wind, the scent of salt and damp wood thick in the air. A few sailors glanced their way—brief, assessing looks that quickly flicked back to their work, uninterested in the two cloaked women who had slipped aboard in the dead of night.

Elain kept her steps measured, her head high, though her heart beat steadily against her ribs. They had made it this far, had stepped onto this ship without question, but they were still at the mercy of the captain and his crew. They had no home, no allies, only the clothes on their backs and whatever coin they had managed to bring.

Nesta walked beside her, silent, her expression unreadable. Elain knew she must have been thinking the same thing—how fragile their escape truly was. They had left Velaris behind, but they had no idea what awaited them on the other side.

The captain’s quarters were at the stern of the ship, a heavy wooden door standing between them and the man who now controlled their future. Elain hesitated for only a moment before rapping her knuckles against the door, the sound firm despite the slight chill in her fingers.

A pause, then the rough, familiar voice. “Come in.”

Elain pushed the door open, stepping inside with Nesta following just behind her.

The captain was seated at a worn, dark-stained desk, a rolled-out map before him, weighted down by a brass compass and an old dagger with a well-worn hilt. He didn’t look surprised to see them, didn’t even glance up immediately, simply finished marking something on the parchment before leaning back in his chair, leveling them with a calm, assessing gaze.

Elain took a breath. “We need to know what to expect.”

The captain arched a brow, tilting his head slightly. “That so?”

Nesta crossed her arms. “How long until we reach the human lands?”

The captain studied her for a moment, then let out a low hum, tapping a calloused finger against the edge of the map. “Depends on the weather,” he said easily. “If the winds favor us, five or six days. If not, could be longer.”

Elain swallowed. Five or six days.

A week. A week on this ship, surrounded by strangers, with nothing but the sea stretching endlessly around them. No land, no escape.

The captain must have seen something in her expression because his lips twitched slightly. “Second thoughts?”

“No,” Elain said quickly, shaking her head. “We just… needed to know.”

The captain nodded, glancing between them before shifting slightly, his fingers still resting against the map. “We make one stop before we cross into human waters. A small trade port, nothing worth worrying over. We’ll be there in two days.” His gaze flicked up again. “You’ll stay aboard. No wandering off.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes slightly. “Are we prisoners?”

The captain chuckled, low and rough. “No, girl. But you paid for passage, not for trouble. And trouble finds strangers in places they don’t belong.”

Elain nodded, pressing a hand against her satchel. It made sense. They had left one city behind; the last thing they needed was to find themselves trapped in another.

The captain studied them once more, then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms loosely over his chest. “And where exactly in the human lands are you planning to go?”

Elain met his gaze evenly. “To the countryside. There’s a cabin in the woods—it belonged to our father.”

Something unreadable flickered in the captain’s expression, but he only nodded. “Good place to disappear.”

Elain didn’t reply, just held his gaze, waiting.

The captain exhaled, shaking his head slightly as if he were still trying to figure out exactly what to make of them. “Stay out of the crew’s way,” he said at last. “And keep your heads down when we reach the port.”

Nesta scoffed. “We’re not idiots.”

The captain let out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think you are.” He gestured toward the door. “That’s all.”

Elain didn’t hesitate, turning and stepping out onto the deck, Nesta right behind her.

The sun had risen higher now, glinting off the rolling waves, stretching bright and endless before them.

Nesta exhaled, long and slow. “Five days.”

Elain nodded, adjusting the strap of her satchel. “We can handle five days.”

Nesta didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t disagree.

Elain leaned against the railing once more, the sea stretching endlessly before her, the wind tugging at her cloak. The ship rolled gently beneath them, steady but relentless, each wave carrying them farther from Velaris, farther from everything they had known.

She turned her head slightly toward Nesta, who stood beside her, arms crossed, her gaze locked on the horizon. “I didn’t know Fae ships could go into human waters,” Elain murmured. “Or human ports.”

Nesta didn’t look at her, but her mouth twitched slightly. “They’re probably glamoured.”

Elain frowned. “The entire ship?”

Nesta finally turned her head, arching a brow. “Did you think humans just welcomed Fae vessels with open arms?” She shook her head slightly, her hair catching in the wind. “No, it’s safer to hide in plain sight.”

Elain swallowed, glancing back at the deck, at the crew moving about their tasks, at the dark sails catching the wind. It made sense. Of course it did. There were still places in the human lands where the mere sight of a Fae would send people into a frenzy, where knives and torches would be drawn before questions were even asked.

And she and Nesta were heading straight for them.

Elain shivered slightly, rubbing at her arms. “Then how do we know this ship isn’t just as dangerous as the place we’re running from?”

Nesta let out a dry laugh. “We don’t.”

Elain exhaled sharply, gripping the railing. “That’s not reassuring.”

Nesta shrugged. “Neither is the fact that Rhysand is probably looking for us right now.”

Elain’s fingers tightened, her stomach twisting. She had tried not to think about it—not to imagine the moment Feyre had woken to an empty house, not to picture Rhysand’s reaction when he realized they were gone.

Nesta must have seen the shift in her face because she sighed, leaning forward slightly. “It doesn’t matter. We’re already too far.”

Elain nodded, though it didn’t settle the uneasy weight in her chest.

Velaris was far behind them now. And if they were lucky, it would stay behind them.

Still, she turned back to the sea, watching the waves roll endlessly into the distance, their future just as uncertain as the waters carrying them forward.

Elain let the silence stretch between them for a long moment, the wind filling it with the soft rustling of sails and the steady hum of the waves lapping against the hull. She had never been good with silence. Not the kind that pressed down, heavy and unspoken, brimming with the things neither of them wanted to say.

So she tried.

Tried to chip away at it, to shift the weight between them, if only for a little while.

She glanced at Nesta, who remained leaning against the railing, her face unreadable as she stared at the horizon. “Have you ever been on a ship before?”

Nesta blinked once, as if pulling herself from whatever thoughts had been consuming her. Then, after a pause, she exhaled through her nose. “No.”

Elain waited, expecting more—some sharp remark, some fleeting comment about the absurdity of the situation they now found themselves in. But Nesta only stared ahead, her expression distant.

Elain turned back toward the sea, gripping the railing lightly. “I always imagined sailing would be… different.”

Nesta arched a brow, finally looking at her. “How?”

Elain shrugged, watching the way the light bounced off the water, the way the sky stretched endlessly beyond them. “I don’t know. I suppose I thought it would feel… freeing.” She swallowed, tilting her head. “But it doesn’t. Not yet.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment, then hummed. “Because we’re not free.”

Elain stiffened slightly, but didn’t argue. Because Nesta was right.

They had escaped, but they were not free. Not yet. Not when the weight of Velaris still clung to them, when the shadows of the lives they had left behind still loomed over their shoulders. Not when Rhysand’s reach stretched farther than either of them could fully comprehend.

Still, Elain wasn’t ready to let the conversation die again, wasn’t ready to sink back into the silence that had already lasted too long.

She shifted slightly, choosing a different path. “Do you remember when we used to talk about leaving?”

Nesta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That was different.”

Elain let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Was it?”

Nesta turned fully toward her now, crossing her arms. “We were children, Elain. We talked about running away from a life we didn’t understand. From a future we thought we could escape.” Her voice was even, but there was something bitter beneath it. “And yet, here we are. Running all the same.”

Elain swallowed, watching the way the sea rolled beneath them. “And are you glad?”

Nesta’s expression didn’t change. “Glad?”

Elain turned to face her fully, studying her carefully. “That we left.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately. She only held Elain’s gaze, her blue-gray eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Then, finally, she exhaled. “Ask me in five days.”

Elain nodded, gripping the railing a little tighter.

Five days.

Five days before they reached the human lands. Five days before they knew if this escape had truly been worth it.

Five days before they found out if freedom was waiting for them at all.

Nesta lingered at the railing for a moment longer, her fingers tightening against the worn wood, her jaw set in that rigid, unmovable way that Elain knew too well. It was the way she had looked before every fight—before every confrontation that she pretended didn’t cut her to the bone. The way she had looked before she had thrown herself into destruction, into war, into drowning.

But this was different.

Because Nesta was not fighting anyone here. Not Feyre, not Rhysand, not even herself—not yet.

And still, the tension remained in her spine, in the set of her shoulders, in the way she breathed just a little too carefully, like she was bracing for something to hit her.

Then, without another word, Nesta turned and strode across the deck, heading toward the stairs that led below.

Elain hesitated for only a moment before following, the wind pulling at her hair as she left the open air behind and stepped into the narrow passageway leading to their cabin.

The shift from above deck to below was almost jarring—the warmth of the sun was gone, replaced by the damp, stale scent of wood and salt and bodies packed too closely together. The creak of the ship was louder here, the weight of the sea pressing against the hull, a steady reminder of the vastness surrounding them.

Nesta walked ahead, her steps careful on the narrow stairs, though the rolling of the ship didn’t seem to affect her as much as it did Elain. She moved with the same practiced grace she had always had, as if even here, in the bowels of an unfamiliar ship, she refused to let herself be unsteady.

Elain shut the door behind them, the quiet settling between them like a third presence in the room.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Nesta leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed, her breathing deep and measured, but Elain could see the tension still humming beneath her skin.

Elain hesitated, then finally sat on the edge of the cot beside her, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. “Are you all right?”

Nesta let out a soft scoff, though she didn’t open her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Elain studied her for a moment, the pale cast of her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the slight furrow in her brow. “Because you’ve barely slept,” she said quietly. “Because you haven’t had a drink in over a day, and I know that’s not easy for you.”

Nesta’s jaw tightened slightly, but she didn’t deny it.

Elain swallowed, folding her hands in her lap. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

For a moment, she thought Nesta wouldn’t answer. That she would ignore her, turn away, let the silence stretch thick and suffocating between them.

But then, Nesta sighed, tilting her head slightly toward Elain, though she didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I don’t know what to do with myself.” Her voice was quiet, almost distant. “I don’t know how to be like this.”

Elain frowned slightly. “Like what?”

Nesta let out a slow breath. “Sober.”

Elain swallowed, staring at Nesta’s hands, at the pale, calloused fingers that had once belonged to a girl who had never lifted a hand to work, who had never needed to. A girl who had sat on a cushioned chair with perfect posture, who had spoken with the cold precision of someone who understood her own power.

Now, those hands trembled.

Only slightly, barely perceptible, but Elain had seen it. Had felt it when she had reached for Nesta’s wrist the night before, when she had pulled her from that chair in that suffocating, stinking apartment and led her into the night.

She had known, of course. Known Nesta drank too much, spent too much, lost herself in things that dulled the world around her. They all knew. Cassian, Feyre, Rhysand. They had all seen it, all whispered about it, all waited for Nesta to fix herself.

But none of them had truly understood.

Elain didn’t.

Not really.

She had never felt the need to drink herself into oblivion. Had never wanted to forget, to disappear into something so consuming it erased everything else. She had struggled, had grieved, had felt the weight of things she couldn’t control pressing down on her.

But she had never drowned herself in it.

Nesta had.

And for all the times Elain had watched her sister fall apart, for all the nights she had waited for Nesta to return from wherever she had vanished to, for all the cold mornings when she had heard the quiet sounds of a bottle being uncorked before the sun had even fully risen—

She had never understood.

Nesta had always been strong. Not kind, not gentle, but strong.

So why?

Why had she needed to drink?

Why had she let herself slip into something that had nearly destroyed her?

Elain glanced at her sister’s face, at the way her lashes cast faint shadows against her cheekbones, at the tightness in her jaw even now, even when she was supposed to be safe.

She wanted to ask.

Wanted to demand an answer, to understand.

But now wasn’t the time.

Instead, Elain exhaled softly, shifting slightly on the small cot, and whispered, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Nesta’s eyes stayed closed, but her fingers twitched.

She heard.

And for now, that was enough.

The days blurred together.

The Vassilis cut steadily through the open sea, the wind carrying them farther from Velaris with each passing hour. The first night had been the hardest—neither of them had truly slept, the ship’s constant rocking unfamiliar and unsettling, the knowledge of what they had done still fresh and raw in their minds.

Elain had tried to keep busy, though there was little to do. She had wandered the deck in careful circles, keeping out of the crew’s way, watching the endless stretch of blue and letting the wind tangle her hair. The sea was unlike anything she had ever known—vast and untamed, its mood shifting as easily as the sky above it. Some days the water was calm, smooth and glittering beneath the sun. Other days, the waves swelled high, the ship groaning as it fought against the currents.

Nesta, for the most part, stayed below deck. She didn’t speak much, didn’t complain, didn’t lash out—but Elain could see the tension building in her, the way her fingers curled into fists when she thought no one was watching, the way her jaw clenched tighter with each passing day. She had barely eaten, had spent most of her time in their cramped cabin, staring at the wall or at the small flickering lantern that barely lit their space.

Elain had tried, in those first few days, to bring her food, to coax her into conversation. Nesta would take the plate, pick at whatever was on it, and mutter a vague response before retreating back into silence.

It reminded Elain too much of the past—of those first weeks after the Cauldron, when Nesta had looked at the world like she wanted to set it on fire but didn’t have the strength to lift the match.

The only difference was that now, Elain wasn’t waiting for someone else to step in. She wasn’t watching from the sidelines, hoping someone else—Cassian, Feyre, anyone—would find a way to reach Nesta.

It was just them now.

And Elain would not let her slip away.

On the third day, the ship made its brief stop at a small trade port, just as the captain had said.

Elain had stood at the railing, watching as crates of goods were exchanged, as sailors disappeared into the taverns and brothels that lined the docks. The temptation to step onto solid ground, to breathe something other than the thick, salty air of the ship, had nearly overwhelmed her.

But she had stayed put.

And so had Nesta.

Neither of them had spoken about it, but Elain had caught the way Nesta had lingered near the doorway of their cabin, the way her fingers had twitched at her sides as the voices of men drifted up from the docks, as the smell of ale and smoke curled through the air.

She had thought, for a brief moment, that Nesta might run. That she might slip away before Elain could stop her, that she would vanish into the crowd below, find another dark place to drown herself in.

But when the ship set sail again, Nesta was still there.

That night, she had eaten a full meal. Not much, but more than the careful picking of the previous days.

Elain had said nothing. Had only passed her a cup of water, let the silence settle between them in a way that felt almost… less heavy.

The fourth day passed in quiet.

Elain spent most of it on the deck, breathing in the fresh air, watching the waves.

Nesta joined her, just once. She had stood at the railing, staring out at the horizon with an unreadable expression.

Then she had turned, muttered something about needing to rest, and disappeared back below deck.

Elain had let her go.

There was no rushing this. No fixing Nesta overnight.

She had to come back to herself in her own time.

And Elain would wait.

On the fifth day, just before sunset, the captain found her leaning against the railing, her fingers tracing absent patterns into the worn wood.

He stood beside her without speaking at first, watching the sky shift into hues of orange and violet, the waves calm beneath the dying light.

Then, quietly, he said, “We’ll reach land by morning.”

Elain inhaled sharply, her fingers stilling.

She turned to him, meeting his gaze. “The human lands?”

He nodded. “Not far from where you said you were heading.” A pause. “It’s a quiet place, that part of the countryside.”

Elain swallowed, her heart thudding steadily against her ribs. It had been quiet before. Before war had swept through, before their family had shattered, before everything had changed.

She could only hope it was still the same.

The captain gave her a long look, then exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “Not many Fae head that way,” he said carefully. “Not unless they’re looking for trouble.”

Elain straightened. “We’re not.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded once.

“You’ll want to be ready at first light,” he said, stepping away. “We won’t be staying long.”

Elain nodded, watching as he disappeared back toward the wheel.

Tomorrow.

They would be on land tomorrow.

She let out a slow breath, gripping the railing as the sun dipped lower, as the sky turned darker, as the weight of the past five days settled deep in her bones.

Then, with steady steps, she turned and went below deck.

Nesta was waiting.

Elain didn’t hesitate, closing the door behind her before speaking.

“The captain said we’ll reach land by morning.”

Nesta blinked, her fingers stilling. She didn’t react at first, didn’t shift or straighten or even tense. She only breathed, deep and slow, as if absorbing the weight of those words.

Then, after a long pause, she exhaled, her lips pressing into a thin line. “So that’s it.”

Elain nodded. “That’s it.”

Nesta tilted her head slightly, studying her. “Did he say anything else?”

Elain crossed the small space to sit beside her, smoothing out the folds of her dress. “Not much. Just that it’s quiet where we’re going.” She hesitated. “And that not many Fae go that way.”

Nesta huffed a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “No, I imagine they don’t.”

Elain swallowed, clasping her hands in her lap. The tension was there, beneath her skin, pressing in her chest. She had spent the last five days thinking about this moment—about stepping off this ship and onto land, about breathing in air that was no longer heavy with salt and damp wood, about going home.

But what was home?

The cabin had never been a place of warmth, not in the way Velaris had tried to be. It had been cold, unforgiving, a place where they had struggled to survive. And yet, it was the only thing left to them now. The only place they could go where no one would be waiting to drag them back.

Nesta shifted beside her, stretching out her legs before running a hand through her hair. “Then we should get ready.”

Elain nodded, though she didn’t move.

Nesta glanced at her, her sharp blue eyes scanning her face. “Are you sure about this?”

Elain let out a slow breath. “Are you?”

Nesta didn’t answer right away. She just stared at the far wall, her fingers drumming lightly against her knee. Then, voice quieter, she said, “I don’t know.”

Elain reached over, touching her sister’s wrist lightly. “Neither do I.”

Nesta exhaled, shaking her head. “That’s reassuring.”

Elain smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ll be all right.”

Nesta didn’t argue. Didn’t scoff, didn’t throw up that wall of sharp words and cold indifference.

She only leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

Elain sat beside Nesta, her fingers twisting together in her lap, the wood of the ship creaking softly around them. The reality of it—their future, uncertain and untethered—pressed down on her now in a way it hadn’t before. Tomorrow, they would step onto land, and there would be no more drifting, no more waiting. Just them and whatever they could build for themselves.

She exhaled slowly. “The cabin…” She trailed off, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. “It’s been abandoned for years. We don’t know what condition it’ll be in.”

Nesta’s eyes remained closed, her body still as she leaned against the wall. But Elain knew she was listening.

“We’ll have to fix it up,” Elain continued, keeping her voice even, steady. Practical. “Clean it, repair what we can. If the roof hasn’t caved in, we might be lucky, but we can’t count on that.” She swallowed. “We’ll need firewood, fresh bedding, and whatever food we can buy before we get there.”

Nesta let out a quiet breath, opening her eyes just enough to glance at Elain. “We don’t have endless coin.”

“I know.” Elain straightened, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll have to spend sparingly. Stretch what we have for as long as possible.”

Nesta studied her, something flickering behind her blue-gray eyes. “And after that?”

Elain hesitated.

She hadn’t let herself think too far ahead. She had focused on getting them out of Velaris, on getting Nesta away before Rhysand could lock her away, before she drowned in her own destruction. But now, with land only hours away, she had to think about it.

She exhaled, forcing her voice to stay calm. “We’ll figure it out.”

Nesta arched a brow. “You keep saying that.”

Elain met her gaze, unwavering. “Because it’s true.”

Nesta studied her for a long moment, then shook her head, lips pressing together. But she didn’t argue.

Elain sighed, leaning her head against the wooden wall. “The garden might still be salvageable,” she murmured, more to herself than to Nesta. “If the land hasn’t gone too wild, I could grow enough to sustain us for a little while. Herbs, vegetables… it won’t be much, but it’ll help.”

Nesta made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, something thoughtful. “And if the land isn’t good anymore?”

Elain closed her eyes for a moment. “Then we find another way.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy with the weight of all they didn’t know.

Then, after a long pause, Nesta muttered, “I hate that cabin.”

Elain let out a breath of quiet laughter, shaking her head. “I know.”

Nesta’s lips twitched slightly, but she didn’t say anything else.

Elain stared at the ceiling, feeling the ship rock gently beneath them.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, they would see what was left of the life they had once abandoned.

And whether or not they could make something of it again.

Elain stared at the dim ceiling of their cramped cabin, the scent of salt and old wood pressing against her senses. The rocking of the ship had become familiar, a rhythm she barely noticed now, though she knew she wouldn’t miss it once they were on land.

Her thoughts drifted, as they had been doing for days, circling questions she never had time to consider before. But now, with nothing but time and silence stretching between them, she finally gave voice to one.

“Do you ever think about where we would be if Feyre had never killed that wolf?”

Nesta’s eyes flicked open, the only sign of her surprise. She turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable in the dim lantern glow. “No.”

Elain exhaled softly, shifting against the rough bedding. “I do.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, just waited, her gaze sharp even in the low light.

Elain swallowed, staring at the ceiling again. “If she hadn’t killed it, we never would have gone to Prythian. We never would have been taken to that manor, never would have met Tamlin, or Rhysand, or any of them.” She wet her lips. “We would have stayed in that cottage, waiting for another winter, waiting for Father to find his spine, waiting for Feyre to come home with whatever she managed to hunt.”

Nesta huffed softly, but it wasn’t quite a laugh. “You think that would have been better?”

Elain frowned, turning to face her. “Wouldn’t it?”

Nesta held her gaze, something cold flickering behind her blue-gray eyes. “We would have died, Elain. Maybe not that year, maybe not the next, but it would have happened. Father never would have saved us. Feyre would have snapped beneath the weight of it all.” She shook her head, her fingers curling against the thin blanket. “And you—” She stopped, exhaling sharply, looking away.

Elain studied her sister’s profile, the hard set of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. “And me what?”

Nesta’s fingers twitched. “You were already disappearing back then. Fading into whatever dream you were trying to live in, pretending that everything would be fine if you just wished it enough.” Her voice wasn’t cruel, just tired. “Do you really think you would have survived that kind of life forever?”

Elain swallowed, her throat tight.

Because Nesta was right.

She had been wilting in that cottage, shrinking into the cracks, pretending things weren’t as bad as they were. Nesta had turned to ice, Feyre had fought to keep them alive, but Elain… Elain had tried to make beauty out of nothing. And in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

Maybe it never would have been.

Still, she whispered, “At least we would have been together.”

Nesta let out a slow breath. “Would we?”

Elain closed her eyes, letting the weight of it settle over her.

If Feyre had never killed that wolf, they would have stayed. Would have wasted away in that little house, waiting for a future that never came.

And maybe—just maybe—they had been doomed long before the Cauldron ever touched them.

“Still,” Elain whispered, staring at the low wooden ceiling, “I think I would have rather died there—miserable and cold—than become this.”

Nesta’s head snapped toward her, her sharp blue eyes flashing in the dim lantern glow. “Don’t say that.”

Elain didn’t look at her. Didn’t move. Just breathed in the thick, stale air, the scent of damp wood and salt pressing against her senses. “Why not?”

Nesta’s jaw tightened, the tension in her body radiating into the small space between them. “Because it’s a lie.”

Elain let out a breath of quiet laughter, shaking her head. “Is it?” She turned her face slightly, enough to meet her sister’s gaze. “Wouldn’t it have been easier? If we had just stayed in that cottage? If we had let the hunger take us, let the cold do what it was always going to do?” She swallowed. “At least then we wouldn’t have had to become… this.”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. “And what is this, Elain?” Her voice was soft but sharp, like a blade pressed to the skin, a warning not to push too far.

Elain didn’t back down. “Not human. Not Fae. Not anything.”

The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating.

Nesta inhaled slowly, her fingers gripping the blanket where it rested over her lap. “You don’t mean that.”

Elain tilted her head. “Don’t I?”

Nesta’s throat bobbed, but she didn’t look away. “You don’t.”

Elain searched her sister’s face, the flickering light casting shadows over her sharp cheekbones, her too-thin frame.

“I miss being human,” Elain admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I miss knowing who I was. What I was.”

Nesta was silent for a long moment. Then, carefully, she said, “So do I.”

Elain blinked.

She hadn’t expected that.

Nesta exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “But wishing for something that’s gone won’t bring it back.”

Elain swallowed, the ache in her chest pressing deeper. “Then what will?”

Nesta didn’t answer.

Because they both knew the truth.

Nothing would.

Elain let the silence stretch for a moment, thick and heavy between them, before she said, almost absently, “You would have married Tomas if we had stayed.”

Nesta flinched. It was barely noticeable, just the smallest shift in her posture, but Elain saw it. Felt the crack of tension ripple through the air between them.

Then, sharp and cold, Nesta muttered, “Don’t.”

Elain turned fully to face her, watching the way Nesta’s jaw clenched, the way her fingers curled into the blanket as if she were bracing herself. “Why not?” she asked, voice quiet but firm. “It’s true, isn’t it? You were practically engaged before Feyre left. If she hadn’t killed that wolf, if the debt hadn’t come to collect her, you would have married Tomas and—”

“Don’t,” Nesta snapped, cutting her off, her blue-gray eyes flashing dangerously.

Elain didn’t stop.

She sat up straighter, her hands tightening in her lap. “Why?” she pressed, her voice gaining a sharper edge. “Why can’t I talk about him? What happened with him, Nesta?”

Nesta shot to her feet so fast the cot creaked under the shift in weight. “It doesn’t matter.”

Elain’s heart hammered, but she didn’t shrink back. She met Nesta’s glare head-on, unyielding. “It does matter.” Her breath came quicker now, the anger rising, curling inside her like a flame she had never let herself tend to before. “You were going to marry him, and then suddenly, you weren’t. I never understood why. You never talked about it. You never told me.”

Nesta’s breathing was sharp, unsteady, her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Because there was nothing to say,” she bit out.

Elain exhaled sharply, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t believe that.”

Nesta let out a harsh, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you don’t.” She turned away, as if to walk off, as if to end this, but Elain pushed off the cot and stood too, refusing to let her leave it like this.

“What did he do to you?” Elain asked, her voice cutting through the small space like a blade.

Nesta froze.

Her entire body went rigid, her fingers twitching at her sides. For a long, painful moment, she didn’t turn around. Didn’t answer.

Then, finally, her voice came out cold. Flat. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Elain’s stomach twisted. “Nesta—”

“I said drop it.” Nesta turned back then, her face carefully blank, but Elain could see it—see the way her sister’s chest rose and fell too quickly, the way her hands wouldn’t unclench, the way she was fighting something deep inside herself.

Elain swallowed hard, her own anger slipping into something else. Something worried. Something afraid.

Because she had never seen Nesta like this before.

Nesta had been cruel. Had been angry, had been sharp and cutting and cold. But this—this shut down, this refusal to even let the words exist—this was different.

Elain took a slow breath. She softened her voice, just slightly. “You don’t have to tell me,” she murmured. “But if something happened—”

“Enough,” Nesta snapped. “I left him. That’s all you need to know.”

Elain searched her face, the steel in her sister’s eyes, the barely-restrained tension beneath her skin.

She wanted to push.

Wanted to demand the truth.

But Nesta had shut down—had built her wall so fast, so firmly, that Elain knew she would get nothing from her now.

So, instead, she let out a slow breath. “Fine.”

Nesta stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she turned away again.

Elain didn’t stop her this time.

She only watched as her sister sat back down on the cot, bracing her elbows on her knees, her fingers pressed against her temples.

The argument hung between them, unfinished.

But Elain knew, now.

Whatever had happened with Tomas Mandray—it was not nothing.

She had pushed too much.

Elain exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her own brow. She had pushed too much.

She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t planned for the conversation to spiral like that. But the moment the words had left her mouth—You would have married Tomas—she had seen the shift in Nesta. Had felt it, the way something in her sister had shut down so quickly, like a door slamming shut before Elain could catch even a glimpse of what lay beyond it.

She should have stopped then. Should have let it go.

But she hadn’t.

And now, whatever fragile peace they had been clinging to was fractured, replaced by something far heavier, something neither of them was ready to name.

After a long pause, her voice softer now, she murmured, “It’s late. We should sleep.”

Nesta didn’t answer.

Elain lingered for a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of her sister’s shoulders, before finally moving to her own space.

She didn’t apologize.

She wasn’t sure if Nesta would want her to.

Instead, she closed her eyes, let out a slow breath, and willed sleep to come.

Tomorrow, they would step onto land.

Tomorrow, they would have a new beginning.

Tag list: @viajandopelomar @nocasdatsgay

[footballerimaginess]

Sleepless Nights

Baby Series 3.0 11. Sleepless nights - Mason Mount  Word Count: 552 "Urrgh why won't he fall asleep" you sighed as you walked away from his room.

"Is he hungry or something?" Mason asked as he rolled over in bed. "I don't know Mase, if I knew he was hungry do you not think I'd have fed him?" you sighed loudly as you sat on the bed as you head him still crying. "Sorry silly question right?" he asked as you simply raised your eyebrow and nodded. "I have done everything that I can, he just won't fall asleep which is so unlike him. You go to sleep, I'll go in the spare room you need to sleep especially as you have training in the morning" you told Mason as you picked your phone up to see what the time was. "I can't just leave him crying, I better go and try to calm him down" you told Mason as you shut the door behind you as you tried to let him sleep. "Baby come on, please just get to sleep. You must be so exhausted" you told Carter as you laid him down in your arms as he was getting well and truly frustrated now. As you fell back down to lay on the bed, you made sure Carter was comfy and laid beside you with his fluffy teddy in his arms. "Shh it is okay" you whispered as you gently ran your fingertips across Carter's soft baby skin. The tiredness was getting to you now, you were starting to feel yourself slowly drifting. But Carter had other ideas about falling asleep. "Please, close your eyes and we can get some sleep" you whispered to Carter as you pleaded for him just to fall asleep, the lack of sleep was really starting to get to you now. Having felt as if you had fallen asleep, leaning down and looking over at Carter to see that he had finally fallen asleep. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and rushed back into your bedroom, to see a very fast asleep Mason who in fact looked adorable as you sneaked into bed beside him. "Is he asleep?" Mason whispered as you laid your arm on his bare back. "Yes, praying he stays asleep. He was absolutely exhausted, let's get some sleep before he wakes up again." you muttered as you pulled away from his embrace to turn to face the other way. "Fuck sake" you whispered as you heard him crying yet again. "Carter come on baby, you must be tired. Just tell me why you are crying" you sighed loudly as you soothed him. "These sleepless nights are not helping either of us, just fall asleep angel" you cooed as you tried to get him to fall asleep. - Morning came around quickly, getting a minimum of about 4 hours sleep, you were now wide awake as you made your way downstairs with Carter on your hip. "Morning my loves" Mason smiled as you passed Carter over to him. "Tired?" he asked as you nodded. "Extremely, if he doesn't start sleeping I need to go and find a hotel. We sadly can't even think about baby number 2 yet I am so tired Mase" you sighed as he gave you a quick kiss on the top of the head. "Go and sit down babe" you nodded.

[lustlovehart]

You had mention in your post about M!reader formally meeting the other members of each unit. Specifically with Trey and Cater meeting M!reader trying to steal some of the treats Trey made. It would be funny if that’s how the Heartslabyul unit just started using sweets to try and lure m!reader. Then everyone else catches on and then half the budget for Crowley’s organization is wasted on sweets.

Lmao, in this case I like to think the other factions were off duty all watching Heartslaybul work from a distance. Not too interesting, but it’s all they really have.

Savanaclaw is training outside, all of them doubting this trap of theirs is gonna work on whatever they’re trying to catch. Monsters aren’t the smartest but they at least have survival instincts… Octavinelle has their interest peaked, looking from the river, curious to see if the pile of sweets will catch anything. If it does, they’re sure it'll simply be some small imp, hardly worth working overtime for. Scarabia is mixed, watching over them from a balcony in Sage's quarter, Kalim thinking positively, believing they’ll catch some high-bounty beast if he hopes hard enough for them. Jamil doesn't care, but he also has some curiosity as to what they’ll get. Pomefiore is taking a stroll through the woods when they find them, peaking through the forest at the desserts. Rook sings with confidence that they’ll succeed in capture, the other two not so convinced… Idia is hidden behind a fence because he didn’t plan on leaving his room, or seeing anyone… He’s more focused on leaving than what they’re doing because there are some rumors about you that he needs to look at. Diasmonia watches from a cliff, surrounding a stray gargoyle found in the wild. It’s their break yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re relaxing. They all, watch diligently in case help is needed. And the rest of them who aren’t hunters, are scattered around, still watching.

For the most part, a majority of them are sure this is just some joke. The newbies must of said something about this method, and now their seniors are showing them just how stupid their idea is. A bush rustled when the final sweet is placed, everyone convinced a small goblin will jump out, Riddle easily taking it down. Really… it was foolish to even think something else would appear—

…

Familiar eyes peak from the dark, their vision increasing is clarity. They all stand tall at the creature, watching with bated breath at what could come out… It must be a beast with your eyes, right? There’s no way this would work on you, the highest bounty possible… Your form peaks from the leaves, your monstrous features gleaming in the light. You’re going to leave immediately right? There’s no way you’ll stay—

… You’re joking.

You slowly lean down, your eyes watching keenly at the hunters, slowly taking their offerings, stuffing them into your mouth. Even after you’ve had your fill they remain, gazing at you diligently, like they’re searing you into their minds. You slowly walk forward, your eyes squinting as you move closer to Riddle. Your faces are a hair width apart, and it has his breath hitch in his throat. He could kill you right now, end it all and sear his legacy into history, follow the rules. But he doesn’t.

He allows you to examine him closely, at some point your hands poke him. He’s about to talk to you, tell you how he shall have you punished for all the rules you’ve broken, even how he’ll do it. But you beat him to the punch.

“I remember you… You’re the one… who decapitates.” … you remember him…? You remember him…! “The way… you kill…” your mouth clicks a couple of times, like you’re scanning your surroundings, “you kill pretty. Red… you’re Red now.” he can’t fully understand you, but the words make enough sense that it has him reeling. It’s his turn to talk to you now—

Ace accidentally steps forward— and you’re gone. It serves as a reason for Riddle to yell at him. They were so close…! He couldn’t wait for a moment! Truly, is he—

The rest of the cast are gone, invading any pastry shop open or closed.

Meanwhile Crowley’s wondering if all his hunters just gained a sudden sweet tooth… and where’s his money— why are all the funds gone?!?

…

They all wait patiently until a specific monster appears from the shadows, so then maybe they too, can have an exchange just like Riddle’s.

[tillichan]

ᰔ ⊹˚₊ Matchup for @blissfullyapillow ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

When you and Zayne met for the first time, the both of you were the little kids. Your parents introduced you to each other hoping that their cute introverted children will get along well. Well, they were not wrong! Took a while, but the two of you became thick as thieves.

Zayne's parents could not get enough of their happiness. Their private and closed son finally found such an adorable friend. But to Zayne, to him you even then were more than just a friend. He had a little puppy crush on you. He always wanted to spend his time with you and you only. Of course you were not aware of it, but your and his parents noticed. And they wished that there could be wedding bells in the future.

Zayne's mother: Your daughter is a wonder! We never heard him talk so much at one time our whole life. Who knows, maybe we will soon become family~ Zayne: *exposed*

So the two of you grow up together and your mutual feelings grow with you two as the years passed. Even though Zayne and his parents moved frequently from place to place, you never lost touch with him. Sometimes Zayne lived with you and your family for a months, because his parents were on a mission this time. Also you and their Zayne were already a married couple in their eyes. So this was absolutely fine, right?

These days, you and Zayne looked more like and old married couple in the eyes of others. You always were together and there was chemistry between you two. And even though Zayne wanted to let you know about his feelings, he hesitated, because he cherished your friendship and was afraid of breaking it.

Zayne confessed to you the day when he ate boozy dessert quite by accident. Of course being a good friend, you rushed to help and brought him home. You somehow took Zayne to his coach and was about to leave, but it was not there. Zayne pulled your hand, and you, after losing your balance, fell on him. Ended up sitting on his lap.

Zayne blissfully took your hand, crossed your fingers and kissed the back of your hand. "I like you", one more kiss. "I truly do", one more. "Why do you not see it?", murmured him.

♡ Zayne adores you so much, ugh, you're just a perfect match made in heaven. The both of you are the introverts who become more extraverted around each other. Zayne loves the way you tease him and can be so goofy and loud around him. It makes him so happy and proud that you feel comfortable enough with him to be yourself. Are you his simp? Yes. Is Zayne your simp? Definitely. You and Zayne are just two lovey-dovey simps who absolutely love and adore each other. And even tough you don't flaunt your love, it's just so obvious.

♡ Your hobbies are similar! The both of you are the homebody who love reading, watching movies and playing video games. Zayne knows a lot about different cultures and foreign languages, he also enjoys visiting museums to learn something new. Don't be surprised if you find Zayne reading your favorite fantasy and romance novels because he just wants to share all your likes and interests. Slowly but surely Zayne definitely will be dragged into rom-fan novels and the both of you will ramble about it!

♡ Zayne loves the way you're so supportive. He loves that your home is the safe space for you and him. You're his sanctuary. He always comes to you whenever he feels bad or overwhelmed by his work or bad things that happened with him or when he just tired and wants to cuddle with you looking the falling rain drops.

Ship Tropes

♡ childhood friends to lovers ♡ two introverts feel comfortable only around each other ♡ extremely married (but not a couple yet)

[phantomwritezstuff077]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍

BILLY THE KID X FEM!HORSE TRAINER READER

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ANIMAL ABUSE

Billy never thought he’d find himself in this situation, but here was, standing in the middle of a small round pen in Tunstall’s ranch with a terrified mare shying away from him whenever he even dared to take a step forward.

He had come across the mustang when he had gone into town on a supply run. He walked out of the general store with everything the gang needed when he witnessed a man cruelly beating the animal after she had collapsed. Billy’s parents had raised and taught him that animals were not property and that they were to be treated with love and respect, they had just as much of a right to live as man did. And it angered the outlaw to his core when he saw the terrified mare being treated so poorly. 

And so, he did the only thing that came to mind. He bought the mare off of the guy, the man didn’t accept much for the mare, in his eyes the beast was far more trouble than she was worth. So he managed to buy her for $20. And after buying her, he learned the old owner hadn’t even bothered to name the animal, so he took it upon himself and named her Lady.

And that’s how he ended up here, a couple of weeks later and still desperately but patiently trying to gain Lady’s trust but it was just no use. Nothing was working.

“Any luck this time?,” Charlie asked, slowly walking over to the fence in hopes not startling the skittish mare. Billy turned around and sighed, shaking his head while he took his hat off and sauntered over to the fence, climbing over the wood before he perched himself on the top railing.

“She still won’t let me get any closer,” the outlaw admitted. “The damn bastard did a number on the old girl, I’m startin’ to believe the damage is too much.” His defeated tone didn’t go unnoticed by Charlie.

“Now hold on,” Charlie cut in, taking a seat next to the cowboy. “There’s a horse trainer in town, Tunstall has had her come in before, she works wonders. Maybe we can get her out here for some help?”

Billy nodded, listening to what Charlie was saying. It hadn’t crossed his mind to try get the help of a trainer, he had always managed to break in and train his horses on his own. But he knew that if he truly wanted to help Lady, he’d need more professional help. 

“Where can I find her?,” Billy questioned, slowly slipping down from the fence to tack up his horse.

“She’s usually in her office by the floral store if she’s not workin’,” Charlie told him, watching as Billy trekked off to the barn to tack up his horse.

After a little while of riding, Billy finally managed to make it to the address Charlie had given to him. He dismounted his horse and loosely hitched them to the post before he made his way over to the open door, pausing for a moment before he stepped inside.

He took off his hat as he entered the slightly cooler building and he looked around before his eyes laid on an absolutely stunning woman sitting behind a desk — you. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he had walked in, but he hadn’t expected to see someone to beautiful.

Billy cleared his throat, watching you as you lifted your head and tilted it befote he spoke, “Excuse me, señorita. I hear you’re a horse trainer? Y/N’s Gentle Reins?”

You stared at him for a moment before softly smiling with a nod. You set your quill pen down, deciding that your paperwork could wait. “That’s me, can I help you?”

Billy felt himself sigh in relief, he was grateful he had found the right person and wasn’t disturbing someone in vein. He nodded, still holding his hat in his hands as he spoke, “Yes, ma’am. My name is William Bonney.” He paused. “I have a mare that I recently saved, and I haven’t had much luck gaining her trust or trainin’ her, my friend Charlie said you had helped train some of Tunstall’s horses before, so I thought I’d turn to you.”

You listened to the strange cowboy in front of you, nodding along to the information he had given you. Once the man had finished speaking, you stood up with a smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help you, Mr. Bonney,” you replied with a professional nod, standing up to walk around your desk. “We can start today if you’d like, I don’t have any clients this week.”

Billy felt his face light up, nodding eagerly. He was desperate to get Lady the help she needed. “That works for me. And just call me Billy, you don’t gotta be so formal, ma’am.”

You smiled with a nod, watching him with a tilted head. He was definitely an attractive man, but you could also tell he truly cared about his horse, which unfortunately was rare in a lot of your recent clients.

“Alright then, Billy,” you replied, nodding. “You don’t need to be so formal with me either, please, just call me Y/N.”

It wasn’t long until Billy was standing outside of the roundpen with Y/N, watching Lady nervously walk around the pen with pinned ears, her tail swished in distress as she continued to pace. The scars lining her slim body were nasty, they had healed but they’d never truly fade. 

“I haven’t seen a case like this in years,” you admitted, you focused gaze never left the mare while Billy’s kept moving from you and then back to Lady, and then back to you again.  You took a deep breath and opened your satchel, taking out a small tin of mints and opened the aged box before pouring the nice smelling candies into your hands.

“Try jumping into the round pen and gently toss one or two of these in her direction, then sit down and wait for her to eat them,” you explained as you gently took his hand and turned it over to put the mints in his palm. Billy felt himself shiver at the touch. “And once she eats them, quietly just give her some praise and toss some more, but slowly have them land closer to you.”

Billy nodded at the instructions, looking down at the small breath mints in his calloused hands. He averted his gaze back at you and then at Lady, who had now seemed to have stopped pacing and was now watching them with pricked ears and a nervous demeanour. 

Billy slowly climbed over the wooden fence and did exactly as he was told. He gently tossed one mint towards Lady, and then a second one, making sure it landed a little bit closer to him than the first one before he sat down in the hard sand. He waited patiently, his blue eyes never leaving the timid mare. You also watched, silently hoping that this method would help with gaining trust.

Lady spooked slightly at the mints being tossed but she didn’t bolt, in fact the short lasting fear was replaced with curiosity. The red roan horse nickered as she sniffed the sweet treat on the ground, her nostrils flaring as air gently blew some dust around the treat away in a cloud, stepping forward before she took the candy in her mouth and chewed it. Lady lifted her head while she chewed, her head tilting whilst her jaw moved around, her teeth crushing the mint. It was like she was deciding whether or not she liked this mysterious thing she was eating.

And she did.

Her ears pricked when she swallowed it, whinnying softly and pawing the ground. She seemed to be overjoyed upon seeing another mint on the ground and she trotted over to it and it was gone in a flash. Billy felt himself smile, he hasn’t been able to get this close to Lady ever since he first got her. You also watched the scene with a grin, a sense of pride swelled in your chest once you realized your plan was working. 

It didn’t take long until Lady was right by Billy, she had picked up on the fact that this cowboy was the keeper of the mints. Which meant maybe he wasn’t as mean as her old owner. He seemed nice. 

Billy’s heart raced as his blue eyes met Lady’s curious brown ones before he looked back at you, who was now sitting on the fence and gave him a thumbs up.

“Keep going, cowboy,” you quietly called to him in order not to break any progress. “She’s expecting more mints.”

Billy smiled, he was absolutely beyond grateful for this. And his heart rate picked up a little bit more at your encouragement, he didn’t know what this feeling was, but that was something for later. He looked back at Lady and offered her a mint in his palm, it was the last one from the tin box.

The mare nickered again, blowing in his face which caused a few of his dark curls to fly upwards for a moment before she lowered her head and took the mint, chewing and swallowing it before she nudged his hand again, wanting more of what Billy no longer hand and it made him chuckle and slowly reach out his hand to stroke Lady’s face.

The old mare snorted and pinned her ears, flinching back a little bit. Billy immediately understood and pulled his hand back, if she wasn’t ready to be touched he wouldn’t push her. 

“That’s quite some progress,” you said from behind him, causing him to jump a bit and he turned to see you. He hadn’t even realized you had decided to also jump into the pen and he quickly got to his feet and dusted off his hands and pants with a light chuckle.

“I’ve never been able to get this close until today,” Billy admitted feebly, taking off his hat again and handing you the empty breath mint tin. “Sorry, I used up all your mints.”

You chuckled and gently took the tin back, putting it into the satchel where it belonged before you ran a hand through your hair. “Don’t worry about it, Billy.” 

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, both just standing there awkwardly before Lady noticed the two of you and snorted, trotting over and playfully shoving Billy with her nose right towards you. Billy stumbled, almost knocking you over from how close he was now. Both of your faces were a bit too close now and after a long pause, most likely from shock before you smiled a bit and slowly stepped backwards with a small, awkward laugh as did Billy.

You both looked at Lady who seemed all too proud of herself. Even though there was a lot of progress to be done with her, she seemed to know something about the two of you that neither of you knew.

TAGS:

@slutforsnow

@lucygxybaird

@sincere1ystar

[ro-writesstuff]

a closer look - dad!mattyau

minors do not interact, all fics are 18+

summary- you and matty take a hard look at your relationship when the kids are being babysat.

a/n: this took me like a week to write my goodness. please enjoy as i almost lost my mind over this fic😌

content warnings: serious talk about relationship, smut, daddy kink, swearing, angst, almost 3k wc (yes i got carried away. worth it? absolutely.)

“matty, we seriously need to talk.”

shit. you’re divorcing him.

“sure, love.”

***

things were different.

not the ‘we’re having problems’ that eventually turns into a divorce, but things between you and matty certainly haven’t been happy-go-lucky. sure, you had your own family and a work life balance to figure out, but something felt like it was missing.

conversations started to feel redundant, one person anticipating what the other was going to say, mouthing the words as they were being said. days felt invariably tiresome, the standard 'how was your day?' talks turning into a minute conversation ending in a mumbled 'love you' and a kiss good night, with nothing more.

you always knew that matty loved you, and he knew that you reciprocated that same feeling. but now with picking up the kids, and matty coming home and spending time with them right before sending them to bed with a bedtime story and you getting nothing more than a cheek kiss made your relationship feel… well, hollow.

and you thought, maybe he’s just having a rough day, but days turned into weeks of passing glances. you tried cheering him up with little notes and texts of ‘i love you!’ and ‘proud of you!’ but you got nothing more than a heart emoji and a ‘thanks love’.

and it's not that he wasn't appreciative of the gestures; he was quite fond of them, truly. it got him through most of his late night sessions with the boys, hearing that same few notes on loop trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. it was the little things you did that made him feel remembered and cherished.

he just didn't know how to tell you that he wanted you, and you alone: his wife, his partner. not the nurturing, compassionate 'mother y/n', or the 'hardworking y/n' that was actually fucking competent amongst the idiots that worked with you. he was so, so grateful of those versions of you, but he’d slowly started to forget the intimate moments of just the two of you.

matty craved the playful, contagious laugh he heard when he snuck up behind you to scare you or the judgmental stare-down after a terrible joke he came up with all by himself.

he missed the real you.

after confiding in george and charli, she suggested that she and george take the twins for the weekend for you two to ‘sort it out’. her fiancé agreed, more than happy to help you guys out, sending you off with a hug and a sliver of hope.

***

the dreaded weekend finally arrived, and yhe doorbell rang and it was none other than the couple, ready whisk away your kids with a caring smile. you and matty gather the twins as they follow their aunt and uncle, them babbling to each other as charli and george get them settled in the car.

matty presses the door creaks shut as your arms fold, deciding how to go about this. sure you guys have had rough conversations in the past, but nothing like this. you were always on the same page, thought the same, acted the same, so being unknown to the other was quite scary.

a odd silence falls over the room, the only noise being heard from the air conditioning and the car starting outside.

matty leans against the door for support, his stomach swirling and heart pounding, feeling like he was going to vomit. he doesn’t think he’s been this nervous since your wedding day.

he wipes his palms on his slacks, taking a deep breath he starts with a brave smile,

“so-”

instinctively, his hand reaches for the small of your back, glimpses of just the two together slowly appearing his mind. then it hits him.

it’s just you two.

nerves getting the better of him and his hand drops in defeat behind you. “what’d you want to talk about, love?”

his voice was low and unsteady; he didn’t know what was about to happen. he was about to lose you forever for all he thought.

your head tilts towards the dining room chairs, the room filled with highly pitched laughs and smiles not too long ago now in a state of anxiety and stillness. matty sits across from you, resting his interlaced fingers on the table, wedding band catching the light, and it quickly feels like you're being interviewed.

“um,"

you really didn't know what to say. the quiet of the room was thick, almost suffocating. your lips parted, the words intending to come out, but getting stuck in your throat, the sound being lost. the uncomfortable truth of what has been happening between you lately was now suddenly so overwhelming.

matty sees you struggling, and his heart aches. "you can say it. it's just me, y'know."

the words hang in the air for a moment, still and heavy.

"i know." you clear your throat, eyes landed on his folded hands across the table from you. a deep breath echoes in the room: here goes everything.

"matty, do you still love me?”

a quiet buzz seeps from the wall.

he lightly scoffs at the absurdity of the question, quickly realizing you’re serious and recalibrates his reaction. he can’t believe what he’s heard.

worry and fret practically ate him alive for the last few days, every scenario playing through his mind. here he thought he was going to sign divorce papers and share custody, losing the love of his life in the process. and that's what you wanted to talk about? if he still loves you? he smiles at the question, ease spreading in his chest. loving you was like breathing to him.

“of course i do,” he reassures. his hands find their way to yours, the warmth transferring to you, calming you down a bit. "i love you. so so much, y/n." his eyes are full of sincerity and love.

relief fills your lungs as matty squeezes your hands. oh thank god. you hadn't heard those three words in a while and was afraid you might never again. after what felt like months of him just living next to you and the kids, it felt nice knowing he was there again. you take a shaky breath.

“why would you ever-?” his eyebrows furrow, brain distraught at the thought.

“i don't- i don't know,” you cut in anxiously, losing eye contact. “just sometimes feels like you don’t want me around.”

he grips the bottom of his chair, the wood legs hurriedly scrapes across the floor, his familiar scent engulfing the air surrounding you.

the words ping-pong in his head. doesn't want you around? that was the opposite of what he wanted.

“oh, baby. I didn’t know you were feeling this way,” he says, mentally beating himself up to let you think that was a reality. "didn't mean to make you feel like that. i always want you."

his lips connect to your temple as the anxiety dissolves like sugar into water. they linger there for a moment, the feeling familiar and intimate. his arm slings around you too, and you jump slightly. the simple contact causes you breath to even in the somewhat quiet room.

“can i ask you something,” he says shifting awkwardly in his seat. you can feel the anxiety radiating off him. you nod intently.

his voice softens and is vulnerable, fragile. “do you still want me?”

“yes. yes, of course,” the words rush out on their own. “why?-” you voice drifts off, not knowing where to go.

he shrugs. he just didn’t know what to do. every time he tried to touch you- a hand on your hip, on the small of your back, your ass, anything really- you moved away. it was something that never happened before which was extremely off-putting to him. after multiple failed attempts he felt somewhat like a whore and embarrassed of his actions, so he just quit altogether.

and you didn’t mean to, you just preoccupied with something else.

you were getting physically and emotionally further away from him. was he supposed to just ask you if you still thought of him like that? he didn’t want to pry.

“just something we haven’t done in a long time,” his voice drops, low and vulnerable. his thick fingers fidget with the ripped denim lying on your knee. “didn’t know if you thought i was still-“

“sexy?”

his small chuckle fills the room, soothing the tension. his smile is radiant, making your heart skip a beat. “yes. sexy.”

you smile, finally feeling reconnected with him. the air’s a bit thinner now, ease filling the room as you look up at him. a picture of matty shirtless pops into your mind, his tattoos tightening around his skin when he tenses his arms, you squeeze your thighs together at the thought.

“i think about you like that all the time.” more than you’d like to admit, to be frank.

“like what?” he wonders.

“shirtless and,"

hard. you thought. the thought of him makes you dizzy, your heart beat faster as he starts to lean closer to you.

“i do too,” he hums. “maybe we can revisit that idea, angel?” he tucks a strand behind your ear, bodies close and tense, and you feel his ragged breath reach your skin. his eyes lock with yours, lust and want swirling throughout them.

entranced, you swallow, his gaze burning through you as your lower stomach starts to heat. god, how he makes you feel like a teenager.

your cunt begins to pulse as his thumb drags against your bottom lip, slow. he lurches towards you, connecting your lips after what feels like an eternity. finally, he’s getting a real, meaningful kiss from you and not a routine one. he feels his dick twitch in his pants.

the feeling urges his hands to meet the sides of your face as his tongue dances with yours, hands careful and supportive. your lips are swollen and red when he untangles his lips with yours, a soft moan leaving it. your fingers hurriedly tug at his curly locks as his hand go to your pants, fiddling with the button, but suddenly stopping.

hands suddenly connect to your hips as he pulls your weight on top of his. you squeal at the action as matty moans in your mouth, reconnecting his lips with yours.

he tugs on the hem of your shirt, “okay if i-?”

you hum.

“words, sweet girl.”

“uh huh,” you reply, “please.”

lifting your arms up he throws it somewhere on the other side of the room. you do the same, revealing his chest and part of his ‘we are kings’ tattoos, causing your breath to hitch and mouth to hang open slightly.

whimpers and sounds fly through the air, lips pressing together with passion and desire. grinding your hips down on his, matty unclasps your bra, taking your nipple into his mouth. your eyes shut at the feeling.

his hand slides across to support your lower back as his cold wedding band touches your blazing skin, you whimpering quietly at the contact. he growls against your collarbone, “mmm, missed your little sounds.”

your hips writhe constantly against his, feeling him get harder and harder with every movement. fuck, you want him so bad.

suddenly he pushes you off him as he stands up. “jump,” he commands. you wrap your legs around him as he catches you in his arms. you feel his soft lips again as he bring you over to the bedroom. he slips as his eyes widen, holding you securely as he looks down for a moment.

“found your shirt,” he chuckles as you laugh with him; a real laugh he’s been aching to hear. the tension and anxiety subsides, the small but intimate moment reminding you it’s just matty. the sound reverbs through the house, and a thought pops into his head:

he's so lucky.

he takes the opportunity to latch his lips onto your neck as he moves his way to the bedroom.

he gently opens the door to your bedroom, throwing you on the sheets. his lips roam your body as he slowly peels your jeans off you. “can i-?” he asks, already hooking his fingers under your drenched panties. you nod.

he swipes a finger through your folds, cunt tensing at the contact. he sees your chest heaving, smiling to himself as his nose nudges your clit. he slides two fingers in, and out, in and out against your spongy walls. his tongue laps at your folds, keeping his rhythm, reveling in the whimpers and sounds he hasn’t heard in a long time.

hands grip the sheets, a signal to him you’re close. smiling to himself, he speeds up. “matty,” you warn, the coil in your lower stomach starting to come undone. “oh fuck-”

“i know princess,” he says. he’s mesmerized, eyes glazed over at the sight of you. a dream, he thinks. “so gorgeous like this.”

your hips father against his hand, his name falling from your lips again and again as his fingers thrust you through your orgasm. your body buzzes with pleasure as he kisses close to the apex of your thighs. you arch your back at the feeling, matty supporting you with his arm, sucking your clit and smiling at the sounds you make at the overstimulation.

mumbles of praise come from matty as you come down off your high. he

you smile hazily. "hi."

his eyes meet yours. "hi, love."

“can i suck you off?”

he considers the offer, but ultimately decides no. yes he loves it when your lips are wrapped around his dick, but he hasn’t had you in so, so long. he needs to feel you. matty giggles at your offer, kissing you sweetly. “another time baby. need you, not your mouth.”

your nimble fingers hook around his boxers, pulling them down to reveal his throbbing erection. he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “you comfortable?”

“yeah,” you smile.

an idea pops into his head.

a devilish smile appears on his face. “ah,” he takes a sharp inhale as his hand moves to your hip, “yes, what, sweet girl?”

you smile at the allusion, memories of you using the word for the first and many times, “yes, daddy.”

you both feel his dick twitch. “fuck,” he moans. “I’ve missed that.”

your lips part as your stomachs swirls at his words, him giving you a chaste kiss as he lines himself up to your cunt. he pushes inside you, both of you moaning at the contact. he swears quietly as you hiss at the contact.

“shit.” he moans.

as you squeeze against him, he sees stars. “feel so good clenching around me like that.”

his moves his hips faster, slamming himself into you again, your moans encouraging him to go faster. his lips fall to your neck, sucking and lightly scraping the skin with his teeth. his hips buck against yours, gasps coming from both of you.

“mattymattymatty,” is all you can manage as he pounds into you, climax starting to knock the wind out of you, gasping and chest heaving.

“fuck, come for me honey, oh fuck me-” he rambles.

you scream his name, digging your nails into his back as he cums inside you, feeling the hot liquid spurt against your walls. hot breaths and groans of your name accompany his release, as his curls stick to his sweaty forehead. matty drops his weight on top of you, chest sticky as his heart beats hard against yours. you stay there for a while, catching your breath, both fucked out and content.

muscle memory kicks in for him, and he makes his way to the bathroom to fetch a warm towel for you, humming as he does so, as well as grabbing plain black t shirt. he returns with the items as a comfortable silence falls over the room.

matty clears his throat. “how’d that feel?” he says, wiping the towel against your skin.

“really good.”

he hums, placing a few kisses on the soft skin of your thighs. he rests his head there as you comb your fingers through his curls. he missed these intimate moments, now so happy it's returned. “i’m really glad we talked,” he whispers.

“me too.” you share a smile, and he lifts himself to place a sweet kiss on your face and lips. placing the towel on the nightstand next to you, he slots himself in between your legs, head resting on your

you tangle your hand in his hair comfortably, earning a satisfied sound from him. “i love you,” your voice is barely above a whisper.

"i love you so much more, y/n,” he mumbles before sleep tugs at both of you, succumbing to it.

***

your eyes flutter to sunshine spilling through the blinds of the room, perfectly highlighting matty's thick curls and sleeping figure on top of you. happiness spreads through your chest, sighing as you take in your husband’s features.

starting to wake up, he stretches outwardly, body slow and weak from sleep. satisfaction and pleasure replacing the sluggish feeling when he feels your soft skin beneath his. the warmth and love emitting from you is captivating. voice still laced with sleep he says, "good mornin', gorgeous."

an even wider smile appears on your face. his accent's always more prominent in the morning.

"hi handsome." a content sigh slips from his mouth.

he hums at the pet name, hands wandering all over your body, savoring the image and feel. he's never felt so close to you as he was right now; he would stay here for the rest of his life.

you move awkwardly against him. "baby, i need to pee,” you say.

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, arms on either side of you, caging you in.

“nuh uh,” he shakes his head, curls tickling your skin.

“please?” you try.

again, his curls shake, replying in the negative. you laugh at the sensation, again trying to move. “i’ll be less than ten meters from you, let me go!” you cry.

“what if you meet another guy?” he teases, lips connecting to your shoulder. he raises his head up -you’re now able to see his perfect face- and connects the back of his hand to his forehead, dramatically throwing his head back, "what am i to do?"

he's so dramatic.

playfully, you raise up his left hand in between your bodies, the piece of metal glimmering in the morning sun. “may i remind you-?”

he pouts his lips, pretending to think for a moment. his head returns to the soft skin of your neck, “‘m not taking my chances. you'd better stay, beautiful." suddenly, the sheets ruffle as matty flips you, pinning you underneath him.

his lips drag down to your neck to your breasts, hips, then the sides of your thighs. slowly, his hands push your legs open.

“you're mine, and mine always.”

[homeofatlas]

Only Tonight (And Maybe Tomorrow Too)

Summary: Vaguely Before sunrise Au. Elisa and reader meet and can’t help but feel drawn together for a night of philosophy, romance, adventures and a once in a lifetime kind of love. 

Authors note: based on this one ask someone posted a while ago idk who about Elisa and the reader meeting at a wedding and spending the night getting to know each other i think. Also yes loosely inspired by that one greta monologue about love. Yall i too wish this was written better with more depth and detail but I can only justify so much writing during exam season. When I show up to the loser competition and then I’m there but I’m talking to someone I think is hot. 

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: Swearing and Some Suggestive Content bc Elisa be hot. 

3 PM

Weddings are stressful. Between your outfit, the gift, and your family you’d been stressed out enough for a lifetime and it was only 3 pm. Is there anything worse than being at your younger cousin's wedding and having all your relatives bombarding you with questions asking when it was your turn? You didn’t think so. On top of all this you’d been relegated to being the person who fetches everything for everyone who needs a water, an eyelash curler, or a set of pearl earrings. You loved your cousin, your aunt, and all your female relatives who were cooing over the bride but it was a little much. 

Your cousin had always had a flair for the dramatic, so when you received the invitation saying you were invited to her destination wedding in Malta you hadn’t been surprised. In fact you’d welcomed the vacation. The stunning water and architecture had been an amazing get away from the writer's block you’d been experiencing……... .except for when you’d been around your family. Cost wise you knew it was better to share a room with your mom but for your sanity you’d opted to stay elsewhere. 

Finally when the wedding arrived you were relieved. Five days of amazing weather and smothering family, you were ready to go home tomorrow morning. Back to your real life in Paris, where you’d taken a job as a secretary while you wrote your next play. It had been months since you’d last touched your latest ideas though. You’d been hoping this trip would be what you needed to start writing again but you hadn’t found anything truly inspiring….yet. 

Being sent to go grab more tissues for the bride's mother you slipped out of the bride's dressing room again. Making your way down the hall to where you knew the elevator was you pulled out your phone to check the time. 

3:15

Great, only 18 more hours before your flight tomorrow you thought. 

Looking up you only see yourself about to crash into someone wearing a suit before you actually do. You immediately look up and make eye contact with what’s possibly the most gorgeous human you’ve ever seen. Their arms come up to grab your biceps to stabilise both of you. Tan with freckles lining her cheeks and nose, her furrowed eyebrows pulling together even tighter as she puts together that you’ve just crashed into her and haven’t said anything.

Crap, you haven’t said anything.

Say something, anything but just staring at her. Her arms begin to lower trailing down your arms before dropping to her sides completely. 

Finally the word burst from you, 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, I was distracted, that one's on me, again i’m so-”

“It’s okay” She quickly interjects, a soft french lilt to her heavy voice. 

A small smile begins to grow on her face. As she continues to look at you she shakes her head laughing to herself and walking away.

You feel your cheeks growing hotter. Only you would crash into the hottest real life person you’ve ever seen in a desperate escape from your family. You wince in embarrassment thinking about it. You look back to see where the woman has gone only to see her turning the corner. Damn it. 

From down the hall you hear a door click open, you expect to hear a close instead, your mothers voice calling your name. 

Shit, the tissues. 

6:30 PM

After what you have to admit was a lovely ceremony, comes the game of how to indirectly tell people you’re gay without coming out explicitly when they ask if you even have a boyfriend yet. Your cousin did a marvellous job of choosing the flowers, the music, the venue, everything down to the last minute detail was gorgeous. It’s hard to imagine someone you used to push on the swings as being married. You remember the days where you’d hide in pillow forts and talk about your future children's names and what your weddings would look like. You’re glad she got to have the picture perfect wedding she always dreamed of with a husband who loves her dearly. 

Excusing yourself from the table you go up to the buffet which holds finger foods to eat through the reception. Deciding on which fruits you feel like adding to your plate you barely notice when someone else grabs a plate and comes to stand beside you. 

Breaking you out of your trance you hear the voice that’s been replaying in your head for hours. 

“It’s like you’re stalking me.” She teases.

You exhale slightly in lieu of a laugh, relieved the person standing beside you is someone you might actually like. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You tease back.

Glancing to your left you see she’s ditched the black blazer leaving her in a white button up with black dress pants. Running your eyes up and down her you are thoroughly impressed. Her legs look especially toned in the dress pants telling you this is NOT someone who skips leg day. 

“Are you with the bride or groom?” She asks. 

“Oh neither, I’m crashing this wedding. I'm only here for the free food.” You answer, gesturing to the fruit tray in front of you. 

She stares at you as if unsure whether or not you’re joking. 

“I’m kidding,” You laugh and lean over to nudge her shoulder. “I’m the bride's cousin.”

Her brows part and she begins to laugh again. Good god, you could listen to that sound forever and never get bored of hearing it. 

Once she finishes you ask how she knows the happy couple. 

“Family friend of the grooms, you know the groomsmen de almeida? He’s my brother.”

As she points to a figure on the dance floor you begin to recognize him, you had seen him during the ceremony. You’d also met him and his family at the rehearsal dinner last night, but you definitely would have remembered this girl. 

“I met him last night. I think I met your mom and dad too. Didn’t see you though, I think i would have remembered that”

“Haha I flew in this morning, I’m a footballer for PSG feminine so I had training up until yesterday. I fly out again tomorrow morning.” 

“Me too. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Maybe you will.”

Your gazes linger. 

It’s been so long since you bantered with someone so easily. This girl was already making you feel things you’d forgotten how to feel and you’d only know her for five minutes. You had to prolong this conversation. 

“I’m y/n.” You stuck out your palm for a hand shake. 

“Elisa.” She responds, her warm hand reaching out to grab your extended hand. 

The small smile gracing her face takes your breath away. 

As your touch lingers a slow song starts. You see couples begin to wrap their arms around each other and sway. You never feel more single than right now at weddings. Although with this beautiful woman who is no doubt taken but you’re going to ignore that for your own sanity right now, it feels less lonely than it usually does.  Trying to think of something to say, you breathe in to ask about her work, or her favourite colour, or why she gets up in the morning, she steals the breath from your throat by asking if you like to dance. 

“Never been a dancer per say but yes I dance”

“Come with me.” She gestures over to what must be the table where she’s been seated and your legs take you with her. She puts down her plate of food before taking yours as well and placing it next to hers before turning around and extending a hand. Her eyes flicker from you to the dance floor. It’s crazy to be able to communicate with someone this well when you just met them right? This has to be some kind of sick twisted sapphic dream where a gorgeous athletic masc is asking you to dance with her on your last night on a beautiful island in Europe. There’s no way your life is real right now. But if it is a dream you’re going to make the most of it. You place your hand in hers again and let yourself be led to the dance floor. 

She pulls you around to face her and pulls your arms up her shoulders while hers wind around your waist. She’s too good at this, you think. Smiling to yourself you mentally roll your eyes. This girl. 

“What?” she asks looking at your smiling face. 

“Nothing…..Just laughing at you and your moves.” How are you already comfortable enough with her to tease her?

Elisa scoffs playfully. “Me and my moves," she says. “Tell me the moves aren’t working.”

She cocks an eyebrow at you. 

You stay silent. She’s got you there. But you’ll be damned if she knows it before you let her.

“The moves aren't working.” You say as you let your face go slack and your eyes fall blank as if you’re looking straight through her. All traces of your earlier engagement gone in an instant. 

“You can’t trick me with the deadpan again, it only works once, cherie.”

“Oh, rats.” You remove one of your hands from her shoulders to swing it diagonally while snapping. 

She smiles widely and laughs at your actions. The older couples around you look over and you only feel a little bad because you made her laugh. Have you ever felt like you understood someone before you really knew them? It must be the romantic in you because swaying back and forth with her laughing right now feels like a rush of adrenaline and like you just crossed the threshold of being home after a long day. If she isn’t single, you’re going to have to kill someone. 

11 PM 

You’d talked and laughed all evening. It’s been a long time since someone made you feel alive. Your cheeks feel tired from smiling so much, when was the last time that had happened? You can’t even remember. 

People are starting to wrap up and leave the wedding. She’s not technically part of the wedding so she’ll be leaving soon. Your mind is racing to find some excuse to see her again or keep these good vibes going. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a while. As you're going through your catalogue of excuses to get her to stay or go or anything as long as you’re together, you’re startled by a soft touch to your arm. She’s looking at you again, god will that ever get less scary? She’s maintained eye contact with you most of the night and is an active listener as you regaled her with childhood stories about the bride. It’s no less electric then it was the first moment you ever looked into those brown eyes. You can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body, pulsing at the heat of her slight touch.  

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Shit, you think. She stole my line. 

You feel bashful all of a sudden, what if she can see your mind racing trying to get her to stay? What if she thinks you’re some kind of creep? Worse, what if she’s actually hitting on you? In first aid training they should really cover how to restart your own heart after an attractive person, a hot person, let’s not downplay it here, the most mouth wateringly beautiful person you’ve seen in your whole life, asks you to get out of here with them. Suddenly the oversight seems fatal. 

Deep breath. You can be cool about this. You give her a small smile trying to not appear too eager. 

“Yeah, I really do.”

3 AM

Your legs have a burning sensation in them from the running around, dancing, and hours of walking you and Elisa have done. You feel as though you’ve walked the entire island of Malta. Not true, of course, but it feels like it with how tired you are. Yet you can’t imagine being anywhere else in the world right now than in the quiet warm night next to an interesting, beautiful, heartbreakingly charming girl. You’re praying to god this isn’t just a you feeling. Can she feel the easy dynamic between you two? The shoulder bumps, easy laughter, and meaningful conversations have flowed between you two all night. You’ve never believed in magic or soulmates but tonight, her, this moment in time, it’s making you question those beliefs. The soft glow of streetlights and lights spilling out from shops open late add to the ambiance of the warm, if not slightly breezy night. This is perfect. This is everything your hopeless romantic heart could ever want. It feels straight out of a movie or some cheesy book, meet-cute with a dorky girl and cool charismatic athlete, they get along really well and somehow have chemistry, cue falling in love montage, the almost kiss, the third act miscommunication, the eventual resolution. Okay well you could do without the miscommunication but this night? It’s so making the falling in love moments montage. 

Your fingers brush against each other and your breath catches in your throat. This is insane. You feel electrified, as if someone just took defibrillators to your chest and you were still conscious. You’re loving every minute of it. You’re brave enough to reach out a little and brush purposely against hers again. The tips of fingers tangle together momentarily before the breeze parts them. Emboldened by what could be you reach out and tangle your fingers fully in hers so you’re holding hands on a dimly lit street. 

You’re trying hard not to look like a tomato, you're blushing so hard. What's even more embarrassing is how you’re already thinking about a great story this night would be to tell your future kids about, holy crow you need to get it together. This momentary lapse in silence for the first time all night is so peaceful, a bit like falling into your moms embrace when you aren't feeling well. The silence cradles you in her arms safely cooing you into sleep. You see her look down at your entwined hands and the sides of her lips pull up. You breathe a little easier. She squeezes your hand to let you know she’s okay with it. You’re already coming up with secret gestures to let each into your feelings. 

The walk back to the hotel is mostly silent. Tiredness creeping over you both. It had been a long day from start to finish. You still don’t want this night to end though. You’re so close to everything you’ve always wanted. You’re debating whether or not it would be creepy to invite her to your room when you arrive at the hotel. You don’t want to sleep with her, okay yes you do but not now, maybe tomorrow when you have the energy to really give it your all, you just want to be next to her and exist in her space. You want her arms wrapped around you and to lay your head in the crook of her neck. You want to feel her skin warm with fatigue. Distantly you wonder if this is a liking women thing or truly a you and her thing. 

In the elevator up to your floors you lean your head on her shoulder, her hand leaves yours to duck around your back and pull you into her so her hand drapes over your waist. Keeping you close. You like this more than anything. Top 3 sensations ever. The doors slide open knocking your moment of paradise away. You shuffle out and then this is it. The goodbye. Oh fuck you’re far too tired to do this properly. You should say something suave and charming that will make her want to keep in touch. A swooping sensation appears in your belly at the thought of never seeing her again. That can’t happen. 

“I think-,” The tiredness is making you entirely too truthful and too much and she hasn’t gone running for the hills yet so that has to count for something right. You bite your lip as you debate whether to continue on. You’re standing in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hotel but she’s gorgeous everywhere, how is this even fair? “I think-,” Your tongue feels almost numb, your eyes can’t stay open any longer. “I think this is how the poets must feel about different worlds, you know? Like the multiverse but it’s between people. Lovers, people who love each other. That secret language.” What are you even fucking saying but you think she gets it because she’s just as tired and shes nodding and smiling and this quiet moment, oh god you want to live here forever, on the precipice of something great, life changing. 

“Yeah no I get it. I feel like that tonight too.” 

It occurs to you that you don’t even know if she likes you as more than a friend or even thinks you’re pretty at all. Which is cool, you could totally live with that…..yeah no. Love at first sight is bullshit but you’re thinking this is pretty close to it. More like I think you’re going to be the love of my life realization at 9 hours ish into knowing you sight. This is the moment in the movie where you almost kiss. You don’t even register the heat of her body extremely close to yours until you feel warm breath ghosting along your cheek with a small kiss left there. You wish you were more awake, but you feel like you’re being lit on fire while being weighed down at the same time. You’ve never cursed the human need to sleep more. You have better things to do!

She pulls away and tucks a hair behind your ear. Your hair must be so knotty from the wind. Ugh you’re probably an eye sore right now, not cute. She’s looking at you the same way she looked at the boats in the harbour and up at the sky earlier though. Full of awe and wonder. Like she’s looking into a world beyond her. Your heart clenches painfully. Please, Please, Please. You don’t know what you’re pleading for but you need more. Her nose brushes against yours and you aren’t breathing. Her lips ghost across your cheekbone and trail to your ear. The palm of her hand rests against your hip. The heat is burning through your clothes. 

“If I give you my number, are you going to call?” She breathes into your hair with a smile. 

You’re nodding at a ferocious speed. Yes, absolutely you’re going to call. You’re going to blow up her phone. You tilt your head to angle your lips towards her ear. How can she make anything sound dirty? It’s a talent truly. 

“Yes” I will do anything for you.

You feel strung out. Tired and drunk on attraction. A shiver runs down your spine at her proximity. You want her hot hands all over you. You think if she whispered in your ear you could probably climax from her voice alone. You want to groan and throw your head back thinking about it. Your fingers in her hair, the smell of her around you, in you-

Best to cut that thought off there. You were always a bit turned on when you got tired. Doesn’t help that you have a professional athlete trying to give you her number and whispering in your ear too. 

She pulls back and smirks at you like she can tell what you’re thinking. She’s good at that. She’s either going to be great for you or your downfall. You’ll take both. You always did like the myth of Icarus. And just like that she's swaying into you again. This time she’s got a hand around the side of your neck pulling you to her and one hand on your hip and those lips you’ve been staring at all night are on yours. Holy shit, you could never have daydreamed it would feel this good. She tastes like the food you ate earlier and something sweet. This must be what ambrosia tastes like. She pulls back slightly panting a into the small gap between you,

“Sorry, I had to do that once, just in case you don’t call.”

“Trust me,” You breathe partially into her mouth. “I’m going to call.” 

Then the heat of her is gone just as soon as it came. You hadn’t realized the hard line of her body was fully pressed against yours until it’s gone, leaving you to break into goosebumps in the hall. She walks backwards until she goes to turn around the corner where her room is. Before she leaves your sight she drops a wink and a lazy smile at you. You think you’re starstruck. As you wander back to your room you think just maybe you’ll have tonight and maybe tomorrow too. 

[skzartemis]

𝒰𝓃𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓇𝓈

Day 7 of To.X

Pairing: Hyunjin x F!reader Genre: Fan x idol, Friends to lovers Warning: none

Artemis' notes: Happy birthday my prince!!!

Y/N had always admired Hyunjin from afar. His face lit up the stage, and his body seemed to speak the language of the music itself. She had been a fan of Stray Kids long before she landed an internship as a visual artist. Her work had always been inspired by the energy and emotion of the dancers she’d watched, but now that she was working alongside them, something changed.

Y/N was assigned to help with a special project—creating a series of art pieces for Stray Kids' upcoming concert tour. The very idea made her heart race. She'd be in the same room as him, and while she tried not to let her nervousness show, there was a strange flutter in her chest whenever Hyunjin was near.

The first time they truly spoke was an accident. Y/N was setting up some of her sketches in the studio when she heard his voice behind her.

“Is that your work?” His voice was warm, deep, and it made her heart skip a beat. She turned around quickly, startled, to find him standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the large sketch she was working on.

“Oh, uh, yes. It's part of the project for your tour. I—I'm just getting started," Y/N stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She wasn't sure if she was ready to show him her art, let alone have him look at it so intently.

“That's amazing,” he said, his smile softening his sharp features. "I can already feel the energy from it. The way you capture movement—it's like I can almost hear the music just by looking at it.”

Y/N blushed at the compliment, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

There was a brief pause before Hyunjin shifted his weight, glancing at the other dancers who were preparing in the corner. "Maybe we could… collaborate sometime? You know, with your art and our choreography? I think the two could work really well together."

Her eyes widened. "You want to collaborate with me?"

He nodded, a slight glint of mischief in his eyes. "Yeah, I think it could be fun."

After that, everything changed. They began spending more time together. Hyunjin would stop by the art room during breaks, watching her paint, and sometimes offering suggestions, though his presence was enough to leave her distracted. She never imagined that the idol she had admired from her computer screen would show such genuine interest in her work, let alone in her.

And the more they spent time together, the more Y/N found herself looking at him in a way she hadn't expected—differently. She noticed how his eyes would soften when he smiled, the way his laugh was contagious, and the way his presence seemed to command attention without even trying. There was a charm about him, a magnetic energy that made it impossible to be near him without feeling her heart race.

But something else started to happen that Y/N couldn't ignore. She noticed the little ways Hyunjin's behavior began to change around her. He would ask about her day, not just the art, but her—her thoughts, her feelings, as though he genuinely cared. He would bring her coffee after long hours, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed her the cup, and though his touch was brief, it sent electric shivers up her spine.

One evening, after a late rehearsal, Hyunjin found her in the studio, still working on some final touches. The studio was empty, save for the two of them, and the soft hum of the lights above them.

"You should take a break," Hyunjin said, stepping closer to her.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes tired but grateful. "I don't mind, I'm almost done."

He shook his head. "You've been working all day. You need to rest."

He didn't wait for her to protest before gently pulling her away from her easel and guiding her to a nearby couch. The warmth of his hand on her arm sent an unexpected rush of heat through her. As they sat together, the silence between them felt comfortable—so comfortable, in fact, that Y/N almost forgot to breathe.

For a moment, they simply sat there, watching the city lights flicker through the windows. Then, to her surprise, Hyunjin spoke, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I know I'm a public figure, and I'm usually surrounded by people, but… being around you feels different. You’re not like everyone else.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She wasn't sure what to say. Her feelings for him had grown so quickly, and the idea that he might feel something similar was overwhelming.

“You make me feel like I can just be myself,” he continued, his voice steady but sincere. “Like I can just… be Hyunjin, not the idol. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t treat me like a star. I like that about you.”

Y/N felt the room close in around her. She couldn’t contain the smile that tugged at her lips. “I like you, too,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There was a long pause. Hyunjin’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, Y/N saw something in his gaze—something vulnerable, something real. He leaned in slightly, the space between them growing smaller, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

It was soft, tender, as though he was giving her the time to process, to pull away if she needed to. But Y/N didn’t want to pull away. She kissed him back, slowly, as if they were both savoring the moment they had been dancing around for weeks.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Hyunjin looked at her, his eyes full of warmth. “I've wanted to do that for a while.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her heart still racing. “I think I've wanted it too.”

From that moment, their connection only deepened. The lines between idol and fan, artist and muse, began to blur. They spent more time together outside the studio—quiet dates in cafes, walks around the city, late-night talks under the stars. Hyunjin became more than just the idol she had adored from afar; he became someone who knew her, understood her, and saw her in a way that no one else had.

And for Y/N, every moment with him felt like a masterpiece, a living canvas of love and connection. Their worlds had collided, not in the way she’d always imagined, but in a way that was even more beautiful than she could have ever dreamed.

Because in Hyunjin, she found more than a crush, more than a dream. She found a reality—one she never wanted to let go of.

Taglist

@toasty0703 @j-ji-jia

[scentedpepper]

The Cockcrow of Dalliance

AEGON II TARGARYEN X SERVANT! GN READER

Part 1: Guilty Pleasures

Summary: Aegon II Targaryen's servant finds that dancing in the fire of the dragon's is but a natural state in which they exist.

Content Warnings: Violence (may be reminiscent of DV, see below), Implied and Explicit Sexual Speech/Themes, Implied Mention of SA, Aegon II Targaryen, Verbal Abuse (Mother to Child), Threatening, Toxic Household Dynamics, Aemond Targaryen, Toxic Power Dynamics, Violence Against Objects During Argument (?)

Other Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Servant! GN Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Yes, yes it's finally here guys

Edited this mid dissociation so if you see any mistakes no you didn't

Told my bsf I was gonna have this out last night (I lied)

Aegons crying again

Debated splitting this into two parts but decided to save that torture for another day

For those of you who haven't read part 1: Guilty Pleasures

Regrading the DV content warning above, given that reader lives and has lived and grew up with Aegon + the weird relationship they have goin' on I thought their interaction in this fic might feel like something similar to DV,, just a moment of consideration

That's all, have fun guys

------------------------------------

"You broke the plates?"

The Prince Aemond is neither impressed nor pleased when the serene violet of his eye pops over the pages of a book he clutches to look at you. His sober drawl has hardly faltered from neutral, in fact, you think he may even be disappointed or rather– expecting.

He has always known, you think, of you and Aegon.

Your steps in the room pause and white pages with ancient scroll on them turn upside down as your hand falls. "My Prince, was that truly your takeaway?"

"It was one of many, " he says and folds the pages, a sign you know is to show his patience –which usually runs thin when it comes to anything, but especially his brother. "Now tell me."

"Would you like a report or an apology?"

You look at him with something that's grown familiar and yet, at times, feels gnawing. Even in his youth his parents indulged his mind and, thus, his tongue was sharp, capable, and used, to the great benefit of others and perhaps his own. And one such end happened to be your position. Though as to how that is of the most benefit is only debatable.

"Whichever you find necessary," he sighs, tucking away a page marker between his fingertips, "but you often mutter apologies by rote so perhaps, dare I ask, would you start the report instead?”

Your chest squeezes in defiance though, you know it is true. Your heart pounds harshly as you recall the way you've trained yourself to begrudgingly bend in reverence in the direction of royalty such as the man before you. The castle walls creak loudly each time, ringing in the back of your ears like a tired, pained groan.

You open your mouth to speak but you feel it close all over again as the prince moves, shifts and your eyes watch him oh so very carefully.

He unfolds his left leg from his right and suddenly becomes more pristine than his previous lax position. He sets the book down with a thud, the ancient leather-bound pages now bent.

“Start at the beginning.” He says, eye peeling away from the book heavy table beside him to look at you, he leans forward, forearms resting on each side of the creaky, old chair that almost scorns the perfect black leather of his clothing. “Tell me exactly what transpired. Don't leave out any details.”

You find that this nature often becomes of the prince when he discovers an encounter you've had with his brother. Restless, antsy, though feigning a lack of care at the start. Much like Aegon, he is a creature of habit. Cycles. Gratingly so.

You tilt your head at him, a curious glaze in your eyes that he does not like but knows you cannot help.

He returns the gesture with a placid face.

Unmoving and unmotivated, unenviable to the nature of your being.

He knows you know what he does not want you to know.

Your knowledge is ever expansive in his eyes, crossing the vast walls of the Keep, simultaneously surveying the walls of the North. You are but a pigeon, fulfilling the duties of your master and yet, you view everything from all different directions.

And when you cast your keen eye upon him, oh, he knows, you only see the jealous boy you grew alongside. The same one who came running to you after his eye was taken, removed. The same one who was undeniably fitful at any one of your moves that did not include him, especially after the tragedy. The same one who grew cold, distant, like ice in which you could stab your prickly little pigeon claws in and deepen the cracks of his resolve.

His foot shifts.

It catches your attention.

He clears his throat.

“Prince Aegon was drunk when he found me. Stumbling from the dark and speaking of aid I was not privy to, at the start.”

The Prince Aemond leans back in his chair, one eyebrow arched slightly as he listens to your report. His violet eye glints in the candlelight, the other socket a shadowed hollow. His steepled fingers press into each other as he regards you thoughtfully.

“The wine had clearly become of him, My Prince, you are much aware of how he succumbs.”

He hums in agreement, eye blinking softly.

His foot taps lightly, almost imperceptibly, against the floor. The sound is a gentle reminder of his growing impatience, despite his otherwise calm demeanor. "Go on." Aemond prompts, his voice a low rumble. "What aid did he require of you, exactly?"

You hesitate, your gaze flickering to the closed door of the library. The castle seems to hold its breath around you, the usual bustle of servants and courtiers hushed. It's as if the very stones are straining to hear your next words.

"It was not– clear, at first, what he desired. He begged mostly, for a time, and slung his body about my own."

There is a tightening around his eye, a pain in his chest as his next breath is trapped there.

“Did he attempt to, force himself upon you, in any way?" He speaks, the words rough, restrained, like they're being dragged up from a dark, hidden, knowing place.

You pause, eyes exchanging a shared sentiment with the prince. "I did not need to defend myself, if that is what you are asking.”

Aemond studies you carefully, searching your face for any hint of falsehood. He finds none. But there is something about your words, the way you phrase them, that pricks at him like a thorn buried too deep to remove.

His lips press into a thin line. "That is not what I asked."

Your jaw tenses, but you hold his gaze. There’s an understanding, unspoken yet suffocating in its presence. Aegon, for all his drunken indulgences, is a creature of impulse. Aemond, for all his calculated discipline, is a creature of control. And you, caught between them, are something else entirely.

"He was pitiful," you say finally. "Swaying like a ship battered by storm winds, clutching at me as though I could anchor him." Your voice does not waver, but your fingers flex at your sides. "I let him cling for a time, as one does with a child who has not yet learned how to stand on his own."

Aemond exhales sharply through his nose. There is something bitter in his amusement, something dry and humorless. "How generous of you."

You tilt your head, watching him with eyes that see too much. He knows you and he knows you won’t stop here.

“Do you resent me for it, My Prince?”

The tension in the room is a live thing, writhing between you. Aemond's fingers tighten around each other before he releases them slowly, deliberately.

"I resent him," he says, and there’s a raw edge to his words, a crack in the ice. "For making himself something to be pitied."

You do not flinch at this admission.

Aemond wears self-sufficiency like armor, a shield against the vulnerabilities he despises most. The childhood incident that robbed him of an eye has also stripped him of any patience for frailty, in others and especially in himself. He scorns what he perceives as weakness with the same intensity that he yearns for strength, and in his mind, the two cannot coexist. To him, there is no grandeur in being pitiable, no honor in being at the mercy of one's own impulses. He has worked tirelessly to purge such blemishes from his own character, to become a perfect, unyielding sculpture of control and discipline, no matter the cost.

You know how he looks upon the spectacle his brother makes of himself, how it irks and gnaws and hangs upon his mind like a rusted, old chain that is loud enough to cause a ruckus but not strong enough to do anything at all. To be pitied in the eyes of others was of his greatest fears; to be sympathized by someone like you, who had seen him through so many phases, was tantamount to humiliation. When you speak of Aegon's antics, when you use words like child, he knows you haven't just seen one Targaryen prince crumble, but two.

And so, he masks his shame beneath pointed accusations.

“Perhaps, we shall cease this conversation, My Prince.” You suggest and when you do it is gentle, unwavering in consideration.

It makes Aemond sick.

“No.” He demands it. “Not yet.”

The severity in his voice is a tightrope, stretched thin. He shifts in his seat, eye narrowing as he searches for the words that will bring this to closure on his terms.

"Did he say anything?" Aemond presses. "Anything of use or consequence?"

You consider this, the weight of your answer hanging heavily between you like the pendulum of a clock, swinging down upon him with each delayed breath.

The answer is yes.

Yes, Aegon said many things. Yes, they would bear heavily on Aemond's mind no matter the use or the consequence and yes, you think they are better left unsaid.

Aemond is not above needing protection, not as much as he claims to be.

“Nothing that would—”

You hesitate, an uncommon occurrence. Your eyes are knowing and unreadable in equal measure, a contradictory nature he has never reconciled. “Nothing that I cared to remember.”

He studies you sharply for a moment, and you feel the force of his gaze like the glare of the sun. You cannot help but wonder if this is when you will burn.

But then he exhales, his foot finally stilling. You see him decide to accept your answer, for now.

“I see.” There’s a clipped edge to his words, a finality that rings through the room like the closing of a heavy door.

He pushes himself to standing abruptly, and you feel a twinge of unease. There's an urgency to his movement, a restlessness that crackles in the air like the precursor to a violent storm.

"Then let us leave off this conversation."

Your eyes flick up to his as he strides around the desk, to return his book to the shelf it belongs to.

“I was not aware our time here was subject to your command-”

"That will be all."

…

Aegon's quarters are neither comforting nor welcoming in the light. What the night hides ceases the moment you step over the threshold and cast your hurried eyes across the room. The floor is cluttered with emptied cups and you wonder, briefly, how neither of you tripped or sent one scurrying across the floor like a squeaking mouse last night; amongst the shadows that were cast away by the intruding moonlight, pressing a blue silk against his pale skin, making him appear nearly see-through. A weeping ghost.

It was not this though, not him, not necessarily, that drew you near again. Not his god-like skin or his small plump lips, or the way he pleads and cries and begs. Not the clouds covering his violet eyes, or the way they release tears of gold from the waterline. Not the supposed way he billows an exciting pit inside your stomach. Not your childhood bond, not your aversion to other domestic duties in which he gives you careless release to. Not the allure of his affections, not the ebb and flow of his deflections.

It is his mother–and perhaps the loud crashing–that causes you, and several other servants lingering about the halls of the royal apartments, to break ritual.

You freeze just beyond the entrance, feeling more like an intruder than a participant. Queen Alicent stands in the center of the room, a hurricane’s eye, breath heaving in her chest, lips pressed into a ferocious line. She does not notice you, not immediately.

Aegon sees you though.

He stands there, a disheveled mess of a prince with his wavy hair falling across his face. His eyes, once squeezed shut as if to ward off her words, snap open to find you. Recognition dawn's first with surprise, then with relief, and finally with a bitter, self-conscious waver.

His mouth hangs slightly open, unsure whether to greet you or to call out in an attempt to save himself from his mother’s onslaught. He does neither. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours, communicating volumes that are left silent amidst the rupturing tension. There is shame in them but also a desperate need for you to see beyond it, to perceive some deeper version of himself that escapes everyone else’s understanding. You can almost see him gearing up for an expression of bravado, an affected nonchalance he wears like a second skin, before the mirror of your presence reminds him of last night’s vulnerability. The skin cracks.

He is too exposed, too aware of you as you linger by the door, and it leaves him frayed.

"Did he call you here?" She finally turns, cutting into the words Aegon begins to form, eyes glancing at you briefly. "Is he incapable of facing me alone?” Her eyes, shifting on him, brim with palpable disdain. Her hands shake as she moves with a furious energy, upsetting the room’s chaotic order even further as she sweeps an arm across the small table beside him. More cups clatter onto the floor, a cascade of empty porcelain that makes Aegon flinch.

He does not answer. Instead, his gaze travels back to you, and for a moment, he’s like a child again. Like last night. Helpless and plaintive, caught between sobs. Caught between breaths, caught between two versions of himself. And then, finally, caught between you, who looks on from the shadows, and his mother, who storms forth with the final blow.

"Do you have any notion,” Alicent demands, “of the disgrace you bring upon yourself? Upon this family?"

You say nothing. Not to Aegon, not to the Queen, not to the situation in which you find yourself in. Again.

"Do you have any notion of what your brother tells me?" Her voice is piercing, a sharp blade of accusation that cuts the air. "You are unfit for succession! Unfit to rule over even a household servant," she spits, and her eyes flick towards you as if you were an object, a thing, another empty cup on the floor.

Aegon staggers slightly, as though each word strikes him with physical force. "Is that it then? You'd rather see Aemond crowned?" He is aghast and teary eyed.

She doesn't relent, doesn't pause, doesn't soften. "Yes. Yes, rather him than this," she gestures wildly at the room, at the mess, at him, the tangled-up prince.

He sways on his feet, her words unmooring him entirely. There is a moment, a brief flash, where you think he might collapse under the weight of it all. And then his eyes find yours again.

There is no relief in them now. Just rawness. Just bloodied pride.

“Go on then!” Aegon’s voice breaks, high and thin, like a snapped string. "Tell him to his face. Tell him you choose him. See how well he takes it."

Alicent’s eyes blaze as she turns on him once more, her fury mounting like a storm at sea. "Do you think he wants it?" Her words are a tempest, crashing down with unrestrained malice. "He knows he is not the rightful heir. He knows he is second. He knows his place."

Aegon flinches, and you feel the sting as well, the viciousness of her scorn sinking deep.

"And you?" She advances upon him, relentless. "What do you know?" Her words are knives, flung with a fury that dares him to bleed. "What have you ever known but indulgence and disgrace? You hold on to your birthright like a drunken sailor clutches an empty bottle. Pathetic and useless." Her voice is a searing brand, meant to scorch and burn away any remnants of his resolve. He stands frozen under the impact, absorbing each blow.

"You hold on to your birthright like a coward—you care for it only when it suits you, only when it eases your own suffering."

He is felled and shattered.

You see him crumble as she hurls insults with calculated precision.

"You are unworthy of it, and you know it.” A title. An inheritance.

Queen Alicent’s words rush forth like a dam unleashed, washing him—washing you—away in the flood of her contempt. Her disdain fills the air, choking it, suffocating it.

"Is this all you are made of, Aegon? Are you as hollow as your ambition? As shallow as your need for attention?" Her voice drops, lethal and low. "What are you, a shadow of a man, a shadow of a son?" There is nothing but her voice and the sting as it cleaves through him.

"Unworthy." She repeats, taking a step back, but her presence is still suffocating. She is the very storm itself, consuming everything in her wake, and you wonder how much longer he can endure it.

His breath hitches, and he stares at her with wounded bewilderment, like a kicked dog unsure of why he’s been struck.

You step forward.

“Your Grace,” you say quietly, gently, “perhaps it would be best to leave Prince Aegon to collect himself.”

The suggestion hangs in the air, soft and unassuming but somehow undeniable. Alicent looks at you, really seeing you for the first time. Her anger falters just slightly, enough for reflection to creep in through the cracks.

She draws herself up, her chest, taking in a deep inhale to suffocate the glaze in her eyes.

She looks back at Aegon, the weight of her own words settling in like an unwelcome guest.

"Very well." she says, her voice suddenly hoarse, as if worn out from the effort of sustaining such grand frustration.

She turns sharply and strides towards the door, leaving in a storm-tossed flurry of skirts. Her departure pulls the air with her, and the room feels emptier for it, less like a battlefield and more like the aftermath of one.

You stand rooted for a moment, unsure if you’re allowed to move, to speak, to breathe. Aegon remains where he is, crumpled and small, his defiance collapsed around him like a broken shield. His eyes shine too brightly as he stares at the ground where she stood moments ago.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The voice is hoarse, reeling, trembling.

Broken glass over an empty road.

You open your mouth, to say what, you don't know.

It's that dark feeling, the one that weighs on your heart and pushes a cool, wet sleeve down your throat until the words can't come out and they aren't spoken in the first place. It's a familiar suffocation, like a thick fog that clouds your vision.

So instead, your fingers twitch and bend at your sides as you watch the fire begin to form at the back of the dragon's throat.

Aegon exhales sharply through his nose, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "I asked you a question."

Your throat tightens. There it is. This moment, this tension, this awful in-between where he is neither kind nor cruel, where he asks for something you cannot give.

"My place is neither to enjoy nor suffer, My Prince."

At those words, Aegon flinches, and his control slips slightly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He looks at you, unfathomably sad, as if the very sight of you hurts him.

And yet, it is he who burns your skin thin, until it drips from your bones.

"Did you? Did you enjoy it?" He sounds frantic, if there was ever a word for the state he is left in.

Your ears are ringing, a familiar, disorienting sound.

Why, you think, why does everything always circle back to me?

You shift your weight, an uncomfortable, unsettled sensation growing within you.

Aegon has never made it easy. He has spent his whole life vacillating between kindness and cruelty, between moments of unguarded warmth and the kind of thoughtless indulgence that turns everything sour. And you—whatever it is you feel for him—have never been allowed to name it. In a lifetime of service, you have been powerless and forgotten, dismissed and degraded. But not now. Not here.

"Did you?" He asks, his voice barely audible.

Your tongue feels heavy. Your words die at its tip, still unformed.

For a moment, Aegon looks completely exposed, every thought and feeling laid bare before you. The usual façade, the mask of affected insouciance, has fallen away, and he is left raw and aching. There is no wine to blame this time, no easy explanation.

His expression flickers, something dark passing over it. "You won't even grant me the honesty I require of you?"

Your silence cuts into him deeper.

He grits his teeth and steels himself against it. Against you. Against everything.

You can see it clearly, how close he is to shattered.

You have seen it before.

A visage so similar to Aemonds.

And just as Aemond, he grows furious before he musters the ability to wall himself up again.

For Aemond, it will often be a curt and disinterested attitude, of a cold and numb exterior where his thoughts and feelings lie; encased and concealed, guarded lest they escape to come at you.

His was a defensive tactic.

Aegon's is an offensive one.

His eyes narrow, his mouth tenses and his nostrils flare. "Is the loyal servant too good to gratify me?" His tone drips with condescension. "So quick you are to obey my orders in the day, so willing you are to let your master take whatever he wishes by night. Was not my brother enough then, or did you find it funny to share a royal laugh at my expense? As you are used to?"

Your brows pull together but you cast your eyes to the side, away, hoping, perhaps, that your quiet may dim his light, if only for a moment.

It does not.

"Look at me!" He demands, his eyes cold and hard, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion.

A loud crash, louder than what becomes of him when he is beaten with words, startles you upright and you stare, wide eyed, at the mess he's created. He kicks against a near trunk, knocking the drawers shut and spilling across the floor the same as it once did so many years ago when he was a moody, grumpy, child, fresh to the world.

Now his emotions –his wants– consume him like a wildfire. Spitting hot embers that char and set aflame your heart and cause you to squirm and step back.

This was different.

"Must I order you once more, dear servant?"

He speaks through his teeth, mocking and cruel.

They grind and clink together, a fury all his own.

It is now that he begins to laugh. Your cheeks flame with shame and anger and disbelief and those eyes, wide open, look upon you with disgust.

“My Prince, please–”

“Please? Please what? Please stop? Please listen? Please pretend like you care?”

“I have always–”

“Always what? Always obeyed? Always served? Always stood there and let me–” He cuts himself off, breath shuddering.

You watch him carefully, watch the way his seams fall apart, brittle and begrudging. His eyes have an insanity to them, like his fingers are losing grip and he is forced to surrender to the soil that lays far below him.

“This is not the time–” You try again, voice soft, unchanging despite the nicks in your skin, within your joints. You ignore it all, pacing yourself as you take careful steps to him, drawing your warmth closer.

"And such a useless, incompetent little thing you are that all it seems you are good for is lifting my cock and licking it clean."

You stiffen. Your pride bristles at his words and you come to an abrupt halt, teeth clamping down on each other.

You suppose it is some twisted metaphor –or his dreams– meant to leave you coiled in on yourself, remind you of where you stand. Below him.

“Not the time?” He repeats, harsh and mocking, bewildered at your control, your delicately placed self. “When is the time then? When I am drunk off my arse, so you can pat me on the fur and tuck me away like a dog? When I am far too gone to know the difference between your pity and your loyalty?

“I do not pity you—”

Lies.

And Aegon knows it.

“A kind word? A brush on the head? Does it feel good? Does it make you feel safe?” He spits out the last word as if it is such a disgraceful proposition that even puts you, a servant, to shame. “Does he touch you the way I do? Do you like it best when a prince pretends you are worth something?”

Your eyes light with something akin to his own flames and the walls begin to crack around you two.

“You mistake me for one of your whores, My Prince.” You start, you voice even, calm and uneventful despite the words that so unnerve Aegon. “Do not whimper at my feet and expect me to soothe you.”

Something shatters in the violet, the facade of cruelty, cold control fractured at the edges, and you know you've hit him where he was weakest. Where the pain was most raw and uncured, where no princely title could cover his scars.

There's a split second where your chest aches and lurches for a younger version of Aegon, the one who's mother loved him yet never was able to see the boy for all his woes and inadequacies, his sadness and self loathing, his broken heart, his shame. The one who must feel a million memories of the throne room playing alongside your anger to stop you from turning your heel and saying nothing.

Instead though, you have not the time to react before you feel the collar of your shirt pulled forward with a violent tug and your body lurches forward in a stumble, mere inches from your noses touching, and then all at once, you are being pushed across the room.

Your back crackles against the wall like a brutish whip and you grunt, arms up, attempting to break the hands that hold you before you're against the wall again.

He shakes you, the anger and bitterness pouring from him like a torrent. “You think I am weak?” He sneers, his grip tightening as if trying to force an answer from your very bones. “You think me pathetic?”

Your defiance only seems to goad him further. It unleashes something feral in him, something unhinged. His words come fast and sharp, cutting into your skin. “Perhaps you have forgotten,” he snarls, inches from your face, “that my goodwill is all that stands between you and ruin.”

His grip on you fortifies. His eyes burn hotter, hotter than those of the dragon emblazoned on his tunic, than any flickering flame.

You breathe hard. A stare-off and neither of you budge.

"Perhaps," you grit through your teeth, "perhaps it is my goodwill that has made you think that."

"You dare," he spits, his voice straining with disbelief. "You dare presume to lecture me, to speak to me like—" He breaks off, his breathing ragged with the effort of controlling himself and failing. His hands tremble against your shirt, and for a moment, you see the desperation beneath the anger, the fear that drives his cruelty. He is like a caged animal, lashing out at everything and everyone, especially at you.

"You think yourself untouchable, do you?" The sheer contempt in his voice is like a physical blow. "You think yourself indispensable?" His grip loosens, just slightly, his doubt giving you the smallest advantage, the tiniest edge. But the moment is brief, and his resolve hardens again. He grips you with renewed vigor, his determination to break you more than matched by yours to withstand him.

“I could have you banished.” He says it like a promise, his voice vicious and raw and you jolt forward only to be pushed back down. “I could have you—”

“—ruined, forgotten.” You throw the words back at him, cutting him off before he can utter them himself. There is a new, dangerous edge in your voice, a fearlessness that defies his threats and mocks his power. “It is what you always say, Aegon, but there is no truth behind it.” Your chest rises deeply, falling just as hard, your talons digging.

His threats, so often wielded as weapons, seem pitiful in the face of your truth. You glare with unyielding intensity, daring him to make good on his words, daring him to follow through on promises you know he cannot keep. It is you who now has him up against the wall, pinned by the plain force of your refusal to cower. He is stunned into conflicted silence, wavering under the weight of your unflinching gaze. You see the cracks deepen and spread, his assurance buckling under the knowledge that you, more than anyone, can see through him. You watch as it undermines every defense he thought himself capable of.

Perhaps this once he will understand. Perhaps this once he will not spiral and fester. Perhaps this once he will learn.

Perhaps, you think, perhaps this once he will not come to you in an empty hall, in a vacant corridor, marching like the very soldiers you thought he was, asking if you feel proud, if you are finally happy.

“Go on, punish me for my insolence. The Crown will thank you. Your mother will kiss you on the head and call you a good boy. Your brother will tell you how wise you are, how brave. You can pretend I never was here at all, and maybe then it will be enough.”

Aegon stares at you as though he has been struck. The color drains from his face, leaving him pale and ghost-like. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"Stop," he chokes out, but there is no strength in it, no authority. It is more plea than command. His grip weakens again and this time does not recover.

“Go ahead.” You press on, relentless now that the cracks have widened into chasms. “Forget me like your family forgets you.”

He is staggered by the force of your words, eyes wide with disbelief and pain so deep it steals his breath away.

He doesn't let go as the tears began to well in his eyes. “Damn you,” he cries out, his voice breaking, uncaring if anyone hears him now. He is wild with the knowledge that you see through him, past the anger to the fear beneath. It shatters what little control he has left. “Damn you to the Seven Hells—”

In an instant, Aegon’s fury crumbles away, leaving something wrecked and desperate in its place.

“My Prince–"

Something hot and wet stains the corner of your shirt. You inhale softly, sharply, taken aback and perhaps a little repulsed but all the more so worried, for him, of how he lurches into you with both knees against your sides.

You nearly choke in reply but you suck your windpipe back into position and breathe again with enough control to not swallow your tongue.

When he speaks his voice is consumed by his own tears but you make it out clearly, recognizing the patterns of his words.

Oh, how his clutch so soon turns to a grasp.

He does not look at you but rather keeps his face buried into your neck, body weight falling loosely atop you and pinning you to the wall. You are left only to wrap your arms slowly around his trembling figure.

He is drunk on his own emotions and perhaps, you think, that is often why he does not face them sober.

"Y/N," your name comes as a slur. "I am sorry." He chokes on his own hiccups as he begs to release the words. "Sorry- I'm sorry. So sorry."

You are forced against your better judgment to cradle him against you, turning your head softly to press your cheek against his temple.

"Okay." You soothe, your hand coming up to his head as you let out a shaky breath, eyes closing briefly as if to regain whatever part of yourself you've just lost. Your fingers twine like cotton into the soft, white threads of his hair. "Okay, My Prince. Okay."

"Forgive me."

He is a mess and quite unlike his brother who was put together the last time you held him in your arms, with a slightly sound mind to match.

His grip tightens and your shirt rides up the slightest.

"I only meant to protect us," you coo against him softly as to not cause his guilt. A half-truth, the words tug the base of your heart but you force yourself not to stray. Not now, you think, not as such fragile things.

"Do not dismiss me." His voice cracks and it rings loud in your ears, as if though a screech. "Please, I will keep you beside me if I must. My brother, too." His tone wavers with uncertainty but his hold increases.

You allow him, to keep his hands where they lay; however, he wishes. They are familiar there after all, comfortable.

He does not quiet in his sobs, in his muffled cries into your neck and you must only listen to every word.

"I wish only for your comfort, for your safety. Your loyalty."

You squeeze him harder against you and still, the other servants flit and look and keep, away from the quarters.

He goes on. "My mother is blind to the wrong of it. How would she know of...how could she understand, of that sort of..."

He cannot finish his thoughts. Or perhaps, he cannot bring himself to say them, however he knows, however he feels. However she neglected to see.

His grip slips up, thumbs pressed against the curve of your ribs.

It makes your skin ignite and yet he is like ice, so much so, there is a mist that shrouds the two of you in dewy wetness.

How foolish. Aemond's warning repeats in your mind like a hammer hits the nail.

But your nails glide over his back anyway.

He tries, once more, to speak. To piece the uncharacteristic cracks and repair his voice, the only thing keeping him standing and in a role of power. "The wine dulls it, drowns it, even, my whims."

Perhaps. Or maybe, once released, he does not stop the spiral from its descent.

A whine escapes him and he exhales roughly against you, trying to stop the tears and failing.

He seems only to grow sadder as the two of you stand there, your backs straight and your thighs, beginning to ache.

His grip shifts to become ever more desperate, pleading, asking that of you when the liquor does not.

"Please."

It hits you hard, the plea, an old battle he has within and a new one you bear witness to.

Aegon seems smaller now, slacked of his fire, that same fire that licks and snaps at the ends of yours. You wonder for a moment, what his flames would even taste like.

Ash? The bitter drink, that will only make his tears wetter.

And, they are. He tastes, salt, from his own misery, spilling from the corners of his eyes and staining the neck of your shirt.

You have not the chance to respond, not a moment between his shaky breath and his hands once more, holding you tightly to his own body.

There is no ounce of space between the two of you when the door bursts open and you meet the eye of the Targaryen you have not embraced in so long.

Instead, all those thoughts, and fantasies, and ideas burn before your eyes and you are reduced to only black and grey, sweeping away with the wind.

Aemond is tall enough that he is overbearing, overshadowing, you, until all you can look at is that void filled, violet abyss that has never been shown such warmth and affection.

He closes the door swiftly at the sight, eye blown wide, wordless for a moment as he searches your expression which is a mix of pleading and acceptance.

His focus then flickers to your chests, tangled, hearts, entwined as close as possible.

Aegon has pushed himself entirely flat to you now, your back embedded into the wall behind you. It creaks loudly under your weight and leaves a scarred ring in the wood as your foot steps back from the pressure.

He does not release you either, does not flinch. Not now, not at the sight of his brother, not at the thoughts within him, rushing, filling his mind up with words and sentences together.

You watch Aemonds throat bob.

He grows more unnerved by the performance the longer he stands there and watches and does not a thing to cease such condemnable theatrics.

You shake your head at him, feeling the way Aegon's tears spread over your bare skin, your arms jolting up and down with each cry.

But Aemond does not listen to you.

When has he ever?

Your palms are sweaty by the time he finally takes action, grabbing the back of his brother's shirt harder than any strong knight ever could.

"Enough."

One tug is all it takes to begin to peel Aegon off of you, first, it is the thick, splayed head of hair, then the buttons, his fingers, the silk belt around his waist. When he has managed that, his next actions seem to please you no more, so quickly and easily the other half of his soul is discarded.

Aegon cries out as though he is a blind pup being taken from his mother's breast and he attempts to return but Aemond pulls him back so quickly by his collar, he coughs, instead.

"That is enough." Aemond repeats and his voice sounds so like yours moments ago, trying to quell the anger.

You look upon the brothers as you push yourself slowly from the wall, clearing your throat and straightening your clothing.

Aegon is red in the face, particularly his nose and his skin is wet, eyelashes dripping. Again, he carries that look of a small pet who's been scolded for the first time.

You are unable to look at him long before your bewildered brow pinches at Aemond next.

His eye is steely, face taught and lips pressed thin.

There is a hesitation in him, it is hardly noticeable and it is replaced by the very clenching of his teeth and his jaw working furiously to keep up his composure as he throws his brother onto his bed in a heap of tangled sheets.

He immediately struggles and you step away as you can only watch him, fists taut in the blanket, face planted to hide his shame.

Aemond keeps his teeth clenched down, as if to stop himself from speaking all that he wishes to.

"You are behaving like a child."

Aegon is muffled by his pillow. "Y/N understands."

You do.

But you don't speak the fact into existence.

Instead, you just step forward, deliberately quiet until you stand at Aemonds side and the both of you stare down at the crown prince for a time.

"Stay." Aemond commands and you know this much, know by his tone and expression, what he will wish of you next.

And just as dutifully, you obey him and give a curt nod.

You are the only reason his brother does not tear the room apart in a bout of rage, and as you lay a tender hand upon his shoulder, the younger Targaryen prince resigns.

"When he calms you may go." He looks down at you with a tight visage that conveys to you a silent knowledge of where he stands on the matter.

He does not want you here. In this room. With his sob ridden brother.

But he knows, with no other means, with how no other servants keep their head nor the desire or capability, you are truly the only one suitable.

It isn't in a good way either, you think.

And you can not look at the way Aemond stares at you. For only a moment but in it, the tension shatters.

"I will be outside the door should he lay a finger on you." And it is just as sharp and sour and you are quick to cast your gaze away and keep it upon the curve of Aegon's back instead. "Do you hear me, you drunk whelp?”

It is his final demand as he casts his gaze to his brothers backside again.

Aegon offers nothing in response. He simply melts and weeps and blubbers.

“Y/N leaves on my terms, the wrong touch and I shall know."

You swallow, daring not to roll your eyes, for you've grown tired of his promises to defend you and his threats to take retribution should you be put out of line or fault.

But he looks at you, sees you, and understands the funny crookedness of your lip.

"I am serious." He takes long steps across the room, eye still on you. "If it comes to the point I wish to think you foolish enough as not to realize I will remove my brother myself, so help me." And even in the same breath, he tugs the door open and brings it slamming shut to silence the echoes of his words.

Then it is just as quiet as the crowing of the day's start and the library aches for your return.