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the-secret-keeper · 3 days ago

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Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon:

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

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dumbkiri · 2 days ago

Text

A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.”

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it.

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon.

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership.

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives.

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them.

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend.

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age.

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck.

“She looked at me like I killed him.”

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.”

“She told me that she’s pregnant.”

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?”

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion.

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away.

“Who are you hiding from?”

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book.

“Dick, what-”

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors.

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot.

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys.

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.”

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?”

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word.

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite.

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him.

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason.

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend.

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word.

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.”

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.”

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing.

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-”

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes.

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.”

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!”

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother.

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face.

This boy is his son.

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me.

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked.

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back.

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.”

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed.

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face.

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep.

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance.

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?”

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask.

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?”

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face.

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason,

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused.

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner.

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?”

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?”

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.”

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own.

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.”

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

#x reader #x female reader #dc imagine #batman imagine #batman #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dick grayson

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loveesiren · 3 days ago

Text

Baby Daddy (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Here's part two! Let me know if you guys want more to this story :)

Warnings: Birth, emergency c-section, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

You leaned your head on Rafe's shoulder, his hand rubbing your swollen belly as you were handed yet another gift.

You were grateful for this baby shower that Rose had put together but you couldn't help the fact that you were absolutely exhausted.

You were in no way prepared for how much pregnancy took a toll on your body. Especially in the third trimester.

You held the tiny pink blanket up. The soft fabric was lined with silk and it was absolutely adorable.

"And when you finally tell us her name, we'll get it stitched on there. Along with her birthday." Sarah said with a smile as her and John B watched you examine their gift.

"It's perfect," You say. "And her name will be revealed once she's born." You chuckle.

"I can't believe you're making us wait," John B whines, rolling his eyes.

"She's gonna be here any day now," Rafe smiled, looking down at you. "And this has been great but Y/N really needs to get some rest."

"But there is still more presents!" Rose whines.

"And she will open them later," Rafe scolds. "She's exhausted."

You were practically falling asleep in Rafe's arms.

"Alright, fine," Rose says as she stands up. "For anyone who would like to continue celebrating, join me in the back yard!"

John B and Sarah stay behind, cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper that littered the living room.

"I'm going to take her up to bed," Rafe said as he stood up and pulled you off the couch.

"Rafe, no, too fat." You grumbled as you felt him try to lift you. "I can do it."

"Baby-"

"I can do it!"

John B and Sarah laugh as you fall back on the couch, obviously too tired to move.

Rafe sighs before bending over and scooping you into his arms.

"Rafe, no-"

"Shhhh," He says, picking you up effortlessly. "Uhm, do you guys need me to-"

"Go," Sarah says with a smile. "We got it."

Rafe offers a small smile before carrying you upstairs to the room the two of you shared. Rose had turned the guest room next to Rafe's room into a nursery. The two rooms sat in a part of the house that was mostly cut off from the rest. It was the perfect little corner for the two of you and your baby while you saved up for your own place.

Rafe laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over the two of you as he crawled in next to you and cradled your belly. "Get some rest, Mama." He said, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Rafe..." You whispered.

"Yes?"

You could feel his fingers trail over your skin. The way he cared for you and was so gentle and excited for your baby, you couldn't wait anymore. You had to tell him.

"I love you." You say as you look up to meet his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he registered your words. "W-what?"

You giggled. "I love you, Rafe. You're amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad. I know we've been doing this whole pregnancy thing in kind of a weird way but I'd kind of like to be a real a fami-"

Rafe pressed his lips to yours, caressing your cheek as he deepened the kiss. "I've been in love with you for so long," He admitted against your lips. "I want all of this. I want us. I want our baby. I want to be a family."

You smiled at his response. He'd changed so much since you found out you were pregnant. He quit coke. He worked hard. He was constantly at your side making sure you had everything you needed. You practically had to pull him off you so you could go check on John B.

You could see his eyes swelling with tears. "What's wrong, baby?" You asked as you cupped his cheek.

"Nothing," He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. "I just have my dream girl and I get to meet my fucking daughter soon. My life is perfect."

You couldn't help but tear up at his words. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't long before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

———-

"AHHHHH!" You screamed as you shot up in bed. "Oh my fucking God!"

"What is it baby?!" Rafe asked eagerly as he quickly flipped on the lamp.

"It fucking hurts!" You spit. "Rafe...Rafe I think I'm contracting." You're barely able to get the words out.

"Oh, fuck. Okay!" He yells as he hops out of bed. He opens the door and yells into the hallway. "Dad! Rose!"

"Fuck, FUCK!" You scream.

"Okay, hold on baby, I have your bag." Rafe runs to his closet and pulls out the bag he had packed for you for when the time finally came. "Rose!" He screams again.

"I'm coming! What is it?" She says as her and Ward enter the room. "Oh, okay!"

Rose is by your side instantly, helping you off the bed.

"Ah! I can't-" You say as you fall to the floor. "I can't walk, it hurts so much."

"I got you baby," Rafe says, once again scooping you into his arms with minimal effort.

"Ward, start the car!" Rose commands as she grabs your bag and you all head downstairs.

Rafe climbs into the back seat with you. You dig your nails into his arm as another contraction invades your body.

"It's okay, sweet girl." Rafe says as he presses his lips to your forehead. "Just breathe with me, okay?" He holds your swollen belly up, relieving some of the pressure so you're able to catch your breath.

You can feel the car speeding to the hospital. You can hear Ward and Rose arguing in the front seat. You can feel Rafe wrapped around you, whispering sweetly into your ear. But you couldn't help the black haze that was washing over your vision as you lost consciousness.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he lightly tapped your cheek. "Y/N, baby, stay with me!"

"We're almost there!" Ward says.

"She's unconscious!" Rafe screams.

_____________

Your eyes fluttered open. It was almost painful to keep your eyelids up.

Large windows lined the room, letting in the sunrise. Purple skies as the sun made it's way into view.

You felt so confused. You placed a hand on your belly. No bump. You instantly shot up, panicking at your missing baby bump you had grown so used to.

"Rafe!" You screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he came out of the bathroom, bouncing a tiny human in his arms. "Calm down baby, I'm here. We're here." He smiles as he sits on the bed next to you.

"Is that...is that my daughter?" You ask, taking in her tiny features. She had Rafe's eyes and your lips. A perfect mix of the two of you.

Rafe smiles, moving to place her in your arms. "You did so good, mama."

You hold her gently, tears filling your eyes as she instantly looked for your nipple. You happily fed her, gushing over the fact she knew you were her mother.

"I-I don't even remember."

"It was complicated," Rafe begins, rubbing one hand over your leg and one over her tiny head. "Emergency c-section. Thought I was gonna lose you. But you were so strong."

You couldn't help but cry. A tear falling on your child's cheek but Rafe brushed it away.

"She's been so fussy until now. She doesn't like the bottle." Rafe chuckles.

"How long have a been out?"

"Two days,"

You shudder, realizing you missed the first two days of your child's life.

Rafe pulls himself up to sit behind you. You lean back against his chest as you continue to feed your child. He runs his fingers up and down your arms and places kisses on your temples.

"I love you so much," He whispers.

"I love you too," You said as you felt yourself drift back to sleep. Rafe brought his arms around you to help hold your baby as she finished nursing.

When you woke up again the sun was setting. Rafe was draped over you, snoring softly. Your daughter in a bassinet beside you, sleeping peacefully.

You heard a knock at the door. Rafe shot up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was going on.

"Hmmm, okay." He said, half asleep as he stumbled towards the door.

You felt bad. You knew he'd been doing all of this on his own while you were out. He needed sleep.

"Hey," Rafe said as your family members piled in. You were grateful for the large room.

Rose and Wheezie carried flowers and gifts, placing them on the dresser by the window. Ward followed behind them.

John B and Sarah came in after them with balloons, setting them to the side as they quickly ran to see your baby.

"Jesus," Rafe grumbled as he laid back down beside you. "M' sorry baby. They wouldn't let anyone but me in until today."

You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head as he rests against your shoulder. "It's okay, babe."

You were wide awake now. Rafe tried his best to sit up and interact but you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

John B held your baby as everyone else crowded around him. She was smiling up at him and it made your heart melt.

"So," Sarah asked. "What's her name?"

You turned to Rafe and smiled. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "Her name is Juliette Lilith Cameron." He announced.

All the girls gushed over the name. John B smiled down at his niece, bouncing her happily.

Ward came around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Congratulations, son. You're going to be a great father."

Rafe smiles at his dads words. "Thanks, dad." He gushes. You can't help but tear up. You knew how much Rafe wanted his dad to be proud of him.

After everyone had a turn holding Juliette, Rafe finally ushered them all out, claiming you and baby needed your rest. But in all honesty, you and Juliette were fine. Rafe was the one that needed a break.

After you nursed Juliette and laid her down to sleep, you and Rafe snuggled in your hospital bed, eating mediocre hospital food and watching Family Feud.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" Rafe mumbled against your shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, my love." You whisper, placing a kiss on his head.

"Gotta take care of my girls first," He mumbles.

"We're good," You promise him. "We need you to be well rested."

Rafe hums into your skin, wrapping his arm tighter around you but not tight enough to hurt you since you were still healing.

"Love my girls," Was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx pogues

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painted-flag · 3 days ago

Text

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 11.2k (ye have to suffer for yer smut) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ Smut, Oral (f!receiving), PinV, nipple play, praise kink, creampie. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Healing, acceptance, and the start of a new life.

You sat in one of the castle's many courtyards at a circular table under a stone gazebo. The day was still young and you could hear the birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. The lanterns strung under the roof of the gazebo illuminated the space you were in. The elder trees, in their great beauty, shrouded all light. It was surprising how easily you had adjusted to the perpetual darkness.

A near-empty teacup was balanced in your lap. Your forefinger tapped rhythmically against the rim as you stared out at the plants surrounding you. It had been odd for you to be sitting and resting. All you had done for nearly two weeks was work in your laboratory. The healers, Daeron, and you, had been working tirelessly in brewing large portions of the cure.

While unable to participate in the blood part of the brews, you had been preparing all the ingredients and orchestrating all of the shipments that were being sent to the far reaches of the kingdom. Reports were sent back that showed that the potion was working on swaths of land, restoring what had once been dead.

It was only yesterday that the last of the sick hall patients were released. It had been emotional, seeing all the beds empty and knowing they were not dead but now free to live the rest of their lives in comfort. After that, Daeron practically pushed you out of the laboratory to take some time off. You did not like it but decided to listen to him lest you incur his brotherly wrath.

Now, you were eating lunch with Helaena. On the table sat empty dishes, with only a few scraps of food left. The large teapot was empty and the remnants left in your cup had gone cold. On the table in front of Helaena were dragonflies in their cages. They were the ones you had gifted her when you first met. She stared intently at them, occasionally brushing the wooden cage with her finger.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” You spoke. Helaena raised her gaze to meet yours with furrowed brows.

“For what?” She asked.

Your finger continued its relentless drumming against the porcelain cup, “For coming back after we met. If it weren't for you, all of this… well, none of this would have happened.”

“Yes, the world works in mysterious ways,” She wore a small smile as if she was thinking about something nobody else knew.

“Thank you, truly, for allowing me to be here. I would have never been able to make a cure, or have met the people I now know.” You picked up your cup and placed it on the table. A small breeze rushed through the courtyard, eliciting a small chill. The once vibrant days of summer were coming to a close and the icy hold of winter began to creep into the passing days.

“Then I should thank you as well. How is everything with the potions?” Helaena asked.

“It’s good,” You paused for a moment, “It has been a busy two weeks. Everything is a chaotic mess and I’m not sure how long it will be until it all calms.”

“I can only imagine. And Aemond, how is he handling the hunt for Cole’s spies?” Helaena leaned back into her chair.

You let out an awkward cough, “I wouldn’t know… We, uh, have not had any time to speak since the uprising.” It was true. You had been so busy with creating more potions, you had even spent nights in the lab. Your guest room had been long abandoned and exchanged for a cot in the corner of the laboratory. Hours spent hunkered over the pots and ingredients, overseeing it all.

Aemond had been working non-stop in hunting down any conspirer that colluded with Cole. He had been busy in his own right, as had you, but you would be lying if you said it did not hurt. There were brief moments when you would see one another in the halls, but there was never any time to stop and talk. Nothing but longing glances thrown across corridors.

“My brother hasn’t been a good husband?” Helaena said. You shook your head at her words and shifted in your seat. The firefly lanterns above you glinted.

“We are married, but we are not together.” You clarified. It was simply a union to save him from the brink of death.

“Has marriage been given a different definition since I last checked?” She asked you. You wanted to laugh, perhaps match a jest to her words, but nothing could escape your throat. Aemond and your relationship had hit some kind of barrier. You were married, souls bonded, but there was an underlying issue. Distance had been given, and you could only assume it was Aemond’s attempts at keeping you at arm's length. He does not want you to get the wrong idea – that this union means anything beyond convenience.

The crunching of feet on the ground and clanging of armour interrupted your tea time. At the entrance of the courtyard stood two guards who had opened the latticed doors to let in their king. Aemond stood a few paces away from the gazebo. His gaze was trained directly on you, a look of compassion across his features. You remembered just what kind of day this was.

Today was not a day you had been looking forward to. The black dress that clung to your frame felt nearly suffocating. While only black in colour, it held a mix of stitched details and threaded patterns that were heavily nature-centric. It was beautiful and if it had been another reason for wearing it, you would have loved it. Facing the truth of your father’s death had been a path largely consumed by denial. One thing that made it hurt the most was no recovery of his body, not that there would be much given the years since his murder. You just wanted something tangible to mark his passing.

Aemond had decided to hold a small funeral service with a marked grave in the royal cemetery. His plan was entirely unprompted, as you had never even indicated your feelings. He could have understood because of the union of your souls and how your emotions were fairly intertwined. Apparently for elves, sensing their bond's emotion was as easy as breathing. Unfortunately, because of your humanness, you did not exactly feel his emotions as an elf would. It only came with great concentration, something of which you had no time for.

Perhaps, a better explanation for why he came up with this funeral was the simple fact of shared experience. He too shared the burden, grief, and inexplicable loss of a father, thus understanding that you may need certain things provided to journey through the grieving process.

You took in a breath and got up from your chair. The wooden poles scraped against the stone flooring. Your feet took you to the stone steps of the gazebo and you proceeded to take a step. Aemond had moved forward and held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated for a moment, but gently rested your hand on his palm. It was warm and calloused, but inexplicably comforting. A surge of energy shot through your body. The hands that had joined were the ones cut in the marriage ceremony.

He escorted you through the courtyard and down a few flights of stairs outside of the castle. Helaena followed, soon joined by Aegon, Daeron, Amara, and Liriel. You did not want to make a spectacle of it, choosing to only have those close to you attend.

The royal graveyard was located just beside the giant elder tree that made up the castle. Graveyards had always felt weird to you. Tombstones and monuments were permanent markers of the impermanent. They represented, in some capacity, the inability to move on; yet all must one day. It was more odd, that despite the elvish customs of being so in tune with nature, they did not allow their bodies to return to nature after death – instead enshrining their bodies in stone.

Your group stopped, coming in front of the stone for your father. It had his name, along with the years he lived and died. The stone was granite, reflecting a speckled mess of white, black, and gray. The sight of it caused tears to brim your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Aemond’s grip on your hand squeezed a few beets in succession in a rhythm similar to the beating of a heart. He stood to your right.

Aegon walked out from behind you and Aemond. He carried a bouquet of white roses in his hands and crouched to gently place it at the base of the stone. You remember learning white roses signify peace and hope, which caused the edges of your lips to curl up just slightly. Aegon was silent for a moment before he stood up and walked back towards you. He stopped to face you on your left side. Aegon’s arm reached out, placed itself on your shoulder, and then gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at him and he gave you a comforting smile. You nodded, grateful for his support but unable to vocalize it.

After he went to stand at your side, Daeron came forward and repeated the same process. He placed a bouquet of daises beside Aegons, paused for a moment of silence, moved towards you and gave your shoulder a small squeeze before joining beside his brother. Next was Helaena, who placed lavender on the tombstone. She repeated the same process as her brothers and gave you a squeeze of comfort. Amara and Liriel both had their bouquets; tulips and orchids. They gave a moment of silence and then each squeezed your shoulder and offered small smiles.

By then, you were overwhelmed with the support. Aemond brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he had gripped and brought a bouquet of elf azures from behind his back. He held them to you and you grabbed them with him. The two of you carried the flowers to be placed at the centre of the grave. You took a moment of silence and thought of the words you would want to tell him if he were here.

You could speak to him about all the breakthroughs you had made in your research. Detail the extensive and life-changing move from the capital to a village on the outskirts.

You would tell him of your chance meeting with Helaena and how that one choice to help someone in need radically changed your life. Meeting everyone after, Daeron, Aegon, Amara, and Liriel. You could look him in the eyes and tell him all those scary stories about Aemond were false; that he saved your life in more ways than one. Your father could know that you were safe now, cared for and happy.

Most of all, you wished you could tell him you loved him one last time. So, muttering with the quietest whisper, you spoke, “I love you, father.”

Aemond and you stood up and moved back to stand in your previous positions. Aemond brought your hand up to place a comforting kiss on your hand. The action caused your cheeks to heat up and turn a bright shade of red. Your heart thumped faster.

One by one, your friends each said goodbye and left you to have your moment at the grave. Aemond was the only one who stayed standing by your side as you stared at the stone. He kept his one hand locked with yours but used the other to reach up and brush some hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright?” He asked you.

Your gaze was locked on the stone, “I had mourned him long ago.” Aemond nodded at your words.

“There is something else, rūklon.” He spoke.

You angled your head to look at him and furrowed your brows. He tugged one of your hands and gently led you a short walk away from the gravestone. You walked amidst the burials of all the royal family members that came before. At the edge of the yard was a young tree, newly planted by the looks of the recently tilled earth around it. Young and just beginning to leave its years of adolescence.

Another granite grave was placed just by the tree. It stood straight and gleaming in the light of the lit lanterns strung about. The two of you got closer and you could finally see the inscription on the stone surface.

Aemond had given Lyra a place of rest in the royal cemetery.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. Your grip on his hand tightened as you looked between him and the gravestone. To be placed in the royal cemetery despite not being a member of the family was a great honour not afforded to most. Aemond had given it to two important people in your life.

“An elder tree sapling has been planted over her body. Soon, she’ll be as tall as the other elder trees with time. Big enough to join the ancestors and protect us all.” Aemond spoke softly. His words seemed to break the damn that you had built up to keep the emotions in. The water pooling in your eyes sprung forth as a sob ripped its way out your throat. Aemond moved quickly to pull you into a hug. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head and pulled your face in to rest on his chest.

The two of you stood there while you cried in his arms. There was so much you wished you could change. You wanted to apologize to Lyra for how long it took you to find a cure. Aemond’s grip tightened as your sobs came out harder. You wanted your father, you wanted your mother. Aemond’s hand on the small part of your back moved rhythmically up and down while his fingers cradled your head and carted through your hair.

There was no way to track the time that had passed as you cried. It had finally been a moment where you could just let it all go. The build-up of days, weeks, months, and years swept over you like a storm; destroying the fortresses you had built in your mind to protect yourself. With careful grace, you pulled away. You sniffled a few times and then looked back to the grave.

“Thank you, Aemond.” You said between tears. He shook his head and moved his hands to cup your face. There was unspeakable warmth in his touch.

“You need not thank me, ‘tis only an honour both deserve.” His thumbs swiped at the salty trails of water on your face. Your eyes traced the stone and for a moment you thought of the image of the sweet little elf girl who always smiled in spite of the pain. The strength Lyra carried, without ever truly acknowledging it herself, inspired you.

“Amara and Liriel should be waiting in your room soon to ready you for tonight,” Aemond spoke, “But if you truly do not wish to attend I can move it to another day.”

It was unfortunate that the first day you had off, the day of your father's funeral, fell on the same day the weekly celebration the elves held. You had wanted to delay the funeral at first, but could not stand being stuck in limbo any longer. You needed to process and move on. There was no way you would be the cause of a delay in the elves' tradition – it had been that way for multiple millennia. You felt you had disrupted their lives enough simply by being there. Now that you were the wife to the king, it would be best to tread your case lightly.

You did not think you could ever get over the simple fact that you were married. However, you did speak to Daeron about the contingencies of your marriage. It had been a long day of brewing and you were more delirious than conscious. He was in the laboratory with you after all the elf healers had left. You had confessed your worries about being stuck in a loveless relationship, but he had simply shook his head with a small smile on his face and told you to sleep.

You had a strong urge then to chuck a glass pitcher at his head.

“No, everyone deserves to celebrate this victory.” You paused a moment and then looked towards him. However, you could not meet his eye and instead looked at his forehead, “Could I be alone for a moment?”

Aemond’s jaw tensed at your standoffish attitude but gave you a curt nod, “As you wish.” His body turned, but he halted for a moment and looked at you. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he choked it down and stalked out of the cemetery.

When he was gone, it felt like your ability to breathe went with him. You wondered how long it would take for you to spill your guts to the king. Would this be your life from now on? Where you would be attached at the hip to the person you loved, but unable to act on your feelings because of your fear. It was nothing but the truth.

You were terrified.

If you chose to act on your feelings and confess to him, what if he did not feel the same? All Aemond had given you since you arrived were mixed signals. One moment he is saving your life and the next insulting you. At the time, you did not understand why he had acted that way. Now, as you came to truly see him, you understood that he was grappling with his past and trying to balance the kingdom in the midst of the spreading taint.

In some odd way, your presence in the kingdom had reminded him of the prince that took his eye. His on-and-off attitude was nothing but his inner child and leftover naivety clawing for a moment to be seen. War-torn and violent, under it all was a child facing the death of his parents, protecting a kingdom, and dealing with a betrayal like no other.

He wanted to be your friend. He wanted to run back to the comfort of a human like he had long ago but was left paralyzed by his past.

Yet, his actions towards you have changed dramatically as of late. Aemond was kinder, tender even. He had shown you patience and understanding, guarding you with his life when Cole revealed his falsehood. Aemond had agreed to marry you and while it was to save his life, he could not have made that decision entirely on that. He was your friend and you could only hope it could stay that way.

Perhaps, in time, he could look at you the way you do to him.

You fiddled with the jewelry on your wrist as you walked the halls of the castle. It had been hours since the funeral and you had spent that time in your room. You had left the graveyard shortly after Aemond and were greeted by Amara and Liriel. Despite becoming your friends, they still acted as handmaids to you. You wanted them to stop, for it felt weird to make them serve you, but they adored dressing you up so you let them.

When you had gotten to your room, they had already laid out a multitude of dresses and jewelry. You were undressed from your black mourning dress and immediately ushered into the adjoining room to bathe in a myriad of oils. Amara insisted on some of her lilac-scented oils, but you opted for the azure scent. She left you to have some privacy and you slowly cleaned yourself.

Over the next couple of hours, the two elves dressed you up in various dresses and colours, until finally picking one that suited you the most. Now that you were a part of the elven kingdom, you thought it only fitting if you dressed in the kingdom's colours. The dark emerald green dress you wore was light and flowy, the dyed linen freely brushing the floor. Careful and detailed embroidered patterns lined the ends of your sleeves, skirt, and around your waist. The same pattern of stitched flowery imagery outlined your neckline, which plunged in a v formation.

Amara and Liriel had spent another large portion of time getting your hair ready and sorting through the polished jewels and metals that would adorn your wrists, fingers, and neck. You were glad they had not brought up the funeral and chose to distract you by other means.

They left you to go to the celebration, but you stayed behind for a few moments to collect yourself. Now, you were walking through the halls of the castle towards the grand hall. As you approached the large oak doors, taller than your lofted old cottage was, two guards noticed you coming. They immediately got out of their standing positions and each grabbed a large wrought iron handle. They leaned back to pull the doors open, as the weight of the wood was heavy.

Upon entering the grand hall, the band halted their music and the elves turned to look at you. Suddenly, you felt hot under their intense gazes. This amount of attention was uncomfortable and reminded you of your first few weeks in the kingdom; when they would look at you with curiosity. Now, the intensity of their gaze had changed to something different, better even.

You could spot Daeron as he made his way through the crowd. When he broke from them and approached, he smiled widely at you and clapped. Like a tidal wave, all of the other elves began to clap as well. You heard a sharp whistle and spotted Aegon over by your friends sporting a wolfish grin.

“I was wondering when our star would show up.” Daeron jested as he took your arm in his to escort you to your friends. The clapping began to cease and the band went back to their jovial tunes. The tunes of their flutes, fiddles, and lutes echoed across the hall as the elves resumed dancing and mingling.

“Star?” Your voice wavered. The celebration had been held to commemorate the cure and the missed war.

“This would not be possible without you,” Daeron spoke like his words were an obvious observation.

“Without all of the healers,” You interjected, “Do not forget you and your workers' sacrifices.”

Daeron nodded at your words, but kept his cheeky grin, “Of course, my queen.” The way he addressed you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over your body. The elf healers had used such a title to address you, but you quickly put an end to it. It felt like theft to take up such a role. By now, you had neared your friend group where Aegon, Amara, and Liriel waited. Helaena was perched in the back, having made the effort to come for just a moment despite disliking such large gatherings.

“Do not address me as such until I have spoken to Aemond. We may be married, but it is not appropriate to seize such a title.” You reprimanded. Daeron released you from his hold and held up his hands in defence, but only returned with a quiet hum.

“There she is!” Aegon placed his chalice down at a nearby long table, covered in large amounts of food for the feast, “Might I so humbly request a dance with her grace?” Aegon bowed and held out his hand, but his actions still held this joking manner that was refreshing to see. You disliked how he used your royal rank but nodded gratefully and took his arm. You waved goodbye to your friends as he escorted you to the dance floor.

“Lovely night. I have ordered some of the oldest wine barrels to be brought out. It is high time they were used.” Aegon spoke as he placed one hand on your waist and held your hand in the other. It was a quick waltz, with rushed movements and interspersed twirls.

“Like you needed such an excuse to drink them,” You teased, “Though, I must thank you properly. Everything that you have done for me, agreeing to help me with my father… truly Aegon, it helped immensely.” During your noon tea time with Helaena, you finally found the opportunity to thank her. Now, you felt it was only necessary to begin thanking everyone else. Aegon looked appreciative of your thanks but was uncomfortable with the praise he was receiving having not been too used to it.

“Truthfully I had been waiting for a moment to strike at…” Aegon paused, unwilling to speak Cole’s name, “We were close, for a time. He wasn’t always so, well,” His lips moved to a frown, unsure how to continue speaking.

Aegon shook his head and gave you a gentle smile, “I am just grateful I can go back to what matters most, drinking. Staying sober during all of this was the hardest part.” Aegon joked. You could tell, deep underneath, that he used humour to cope with his struggles. He was skilled at deflecting. It reminded you of that glimpse you saw many weeks ago. How you escorted him to his room after a night of drinking and he confessed his feelings of inadequacy compared to his siblings. You had given him advice then. Did he even remember your words?

Just as you wanted to bring it up again, Aegon spotted something from behind you and a wicked smirk plastered itself on his face. He spun you around one last time as the song came to a close. The two of you backed away and bowed.

“Might I cut in?” Aemond’s voice was calm and you could feel his breath brushing against your neck as he stood behind you. You turned to see him standing before you, dressed in finer clothes than he normally would wear. These ones fit the occasion of celebration but were still dark in colour. This might have been the only time you saw him without his longsword strapped to his side. There was no need for him to display such defence anymore.

“Of course, brother.” Aegon then looked at you, gave a quick almost imperceptible wink and walked away. The band began to play a slower, more calm song. Aemond placed both of his hands along your waist, his fingers brushing your sides soothingly. You rested your hands on his chest and felt the warmth emanating from him.

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation,” Aemond spoke as the two of you began to waltz across the floor with the other dancing elves.

“An explanation?” You questioned. Aemond’s eye was scanning the room. You could see it in his stance, he wanted to talk about something. Deeply. However, his posture held hints of nervousness.

“I know our union may have been done in haste, but I need you to know that,” Aemond licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and locked his eye on you, “I–” He huffed. You could feel his fingers tighten just slightly as his gaze swept to the floor. You were unsure of how to proceed. You had never seen him in this state.

“I’m not good at speaking about all of this.” He muttered with frustration.

“You don’t have to be.” You gave him a gentle smile, “Aemond, king or not, you don’t have to always be perfect at everything.”

His eye trailed back to you, scanning over your face. The shine of the blue reflected the gold light of the lanterns strung from the high vaulted roof of the hall. There was something almost unreadable on his face, but a moment of clarity washed over his features.

“You’re beautiful,” He blurted out. You sucked in a breath at his compliment. Heat flushed over your face and your hands gripped the fabric of his doublet. Your heartbeat picked up.

Aemond pulled you closer and spun you two, “I wish I could see you, truly.” You could see his cheek with the scar twitch, causing you to be more aware of his eyepatch. In all honesty, it was not something you noticed anymore.

“You already do, Aemond, more than anyone else has.” You gave him a reassuring smile. At this point, your heart was bleeding on your sleeve. You did not care to hide your affection anymore. You did not wish to hide a part of yourself from the person your soul was intertwined with. Aemond stopped dancing and the two of you stood amongst dancing elves. The song was in full swing, the elegant tune flitting about the room.

“Come with me,” Aemond grabbed a hold of your hand, “We need to talk.” He tugged you through the crowd, expertly weaving his way so you would not bump into anyone. He was on a mission, his shoulders squared with determination. Aemond paid no attention to the elves in the hall who sent causal glances his way, watching on as their king and queen left the hall. It was slightly disappointing to leave the party early, but you knew there would be plenty more to attend over the course of your life here.

He guided you through the dimly lit stone halls and up a flight of stairs. It was a repetitive process. You two would move down a hallway and then walk up a bunch of stairs. It repeated multiple times and you had begun to get a little tired. You were unfamiliar with this part of the castle. Your legs ached just slightly, but Aemond continued. You could feel the elevation increase. Finally, you came across the spiralling steps of a tower and Aemond walked up. His grip on your hand tightened to guide you up the stairs and make sure you did not slip.

You happened across double doors. Aemond pushed one open and guided you into a large room. Quickly scanning the area, you came to see that it was one of the exact rooms you saw when you were in that unconscious state; Aemond’s room. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries, making it feel warm. Countless bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with various tomes. There were multiple areas with lounge furniture. On one end of the room was a raised section that held a hearth, a four-poster canopy bed, and doors that opened to a balcony. Rich fabrics and furs covered the bed and floors, adding touches of luxury amid the fortress-like surroundings.

He guided you up the raised steps and out onto the balcony. There, you could see the dark shapes of the tops of the elder trees. Above you, as far as your eyes could see, spanned a starry night sky. The stars looked like different sizes of salt grains spilled across a dark-stained wood table. They sparkled like the jewels that adorned your neck. You were struck by the sight and slowly walked to the end of the balcony. You leaned against the stone railing and watched with revered awe.

Aemond moved to stand beside you. Unlike other times in the past, he stood on your left, so his good eye was on your side. Your hands traced the rough grooves of the stone. You glanced towards Aemond and found him already looking at you. For a brief moment, you felt as though you were transported back to that night at Lake Rosmagne when you and Aemond were sat around the campfire. The night he had opened up to you, and you to him.

“Our union,” You spoke, “I know it was not a choice and I am sorry for taking it from you. But since then, it feels like there is a crack in our friendship. I’m sorry if it broke your trust.”

“Why would it have broken my trust?” Aemond turned so his hip rested against the railing and focused his form on you.

“It is a bond forged out of desperation. You had no option other than death. It was cruel to suggest it and even crueller to make you go through with it.” You reasoned. It was all out in the open now. The thing that had been bugging you for many days now, something that had kept you up most nights.

“Did you hold a knife against my throat? Bind my hands and tie me to a chair?” Aemond questioned.

You shook your head, “Well no, but-”

“I could have chosen to die on that field, like a king, a warrior, but I did not.” He interrupted you. You thought about his words for a moment. It still did not entirely make sense to you. In your kingdom, anything would have been done to save a king from death. Though, because of that, the king typically never fought on the field. Yet here, it was seen as dishonourable to make your people fight without joining. His death in battle would have been seen as a tragic, but kingly end.

“I apologize if any of my actions have given you the wrong impression. This is not my area of expertise.” He reached out with his arm and grabbed your hand and his thumb swiped over your knuckles. You welcomed the warmth his touch brought.

“Rūklon, why do you think I planned to go to war?” He questioned, his voice soft and comforting. The area between your brows wrinkled. It was such an obvious answer so why would he be asking that question?

“Because you believed my kind broke the treaty and attacked your castle. They destroyed part of the research, so you were bound by duty to retaliate.” You answered. Aemond looked at you with a small smile, his eye shining. His head tilted down due to the height difference. It was like he found amusement in your answer.

He slowly shook his head back and forth, “No,” Aemond spoke with gentleness, “I declared war because I thought their spies killed you. I didn’t give a damn about the rest. You did not force me into this union, I welcome it gladly.” His words were like a jolt of lighting that had hit your body, electrifying your limbs and shocking your brain.

Your fingers tightened against the stone of the railing, “But you had no other choice. What I did…”

“There is nothing you could ever do to hurt me or make me detest you. Rūklon, you could cut out my other eye and I would still only see you. You could cut off my ears, yet only your voice would remain in my head. You could run to the far corners of the earth and my heart would still call to you, guide me to you.” Aemond used the hand that cradled yours to pull you closer to him. He brought it up and opened your closed fist to lay on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel the gentle thrum of the beats, picking up just slightly at your proximity.

His eye looked into yours and with an overwhelming glint of pure devotion, he whispered, “You have conquered me. Wholly and truly.” His hand cradled yours delicately and he moved closer to you, nearly chest to chest. Your breath got caught in your throat. Your hands moved to rest on his forearms and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes.

This was all you had wanted and more. You needed to mend the weird rift that had been created between you. You had thought, due to the circumstances of your union, that Aemond did not want to be that close to you. How stupid this had all been. Both of you were unsure and scared to proceed further as you both did not want to push the other. Your souls had intertwined, going so far as to share trepidation in confessing those feelings.

You took a moment to reach up and cup his face, tracing the line of his scar. Your fingers reached his eyepatch. You halted your movement and hovered over the leather, waiting for his permission. Aemond tilted his head down in a curt nod. With his permission, you gently pulled it off and rested the leather on the stone railing. Looking back up, you saw the sapphire stone that sat in his socket. In the past, all you had seen was a storm of blue. Angry waves that crashed against the dark stone of his iris. Now, that had changed. With the sapphire, you could see the iridescent deep blue that reflected the glittering light of the stars. In it, you could see the universe.

It was then that you understood what people meant when they said that eyes are windows to a person's soul.

“I love you, Aemond.” You whispered delicately. Those simple words caused the elf in front of you to almost crumble. His one eye, brimming with unshed tears, closed and you watched a streak of saltwater come down his cheek and rest at his sharp jaw. His lips trembled almost imperceptibly. You wanted to cry with him, suddenly feeling all of his emotions through your bond.

Slowly, Aemond’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers brushing the small of your back. Your hands that were tracing his cheeks dropped to his chest. He carefully moved forward and leaned in. Under your hands, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Aemond’s face got closer and you felt his breath brush your face. Both of your foreheads connected and your eyes fluttered close to savour the tender moment.

“Avy jorrāelan,” Aemond spoke softly. You did not need to know his language to understand he had said it back to you. The delicate nature of his voice and the emotion in the words were all you needed to know. Even if the world plunged into darkness you would be able to find him anywhere.

There, in the midst of your comfort, you felt his lips brush yours. Despite the skin being slightly chapped, it felt soft and warm. Your skin was flushed with heat and it spread throughout your body. Aemond's lips began to move with yours, slowly and gently. The action came as naturally as walking, as breathing. There was nothing else that mattered but that moment.

His grip moved to your waist, tightening as he pulled you closer to him. The movement caused you to let out a hum and that spurred him on. His nose brushed your cheek as he turned his head to get a better angle and he became starved for you. It was like the wall that separated you two crumbled in an instant. All pieces of inhibitions were disregarded as you sunk into it, into him. A grumble made its way out of his throat and the vibrations were passed on to you.

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty. You were nervous. This was not an area you had experience in and you suddenly felt like that would be a negative for him. You did not want to disappoint Aemond.

The two of you pulled away, only slightly. Your noses were still touching. His eye opened and you looked into it. The blue had darkened significantly and with your hands on his chest, you could feel it rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. You moved your hands and the touch made him shudder. That alone sparked an unknown heat you had never felt before that budded in your lower stomach. You needed him, carnally.

For a moment, all you two did was look at one another, eyes tracing every inch; learning, memorizing.

“I need you, Aemond.” You could barely recognize your voice. Your body was overcome with instinct over mind, but you did not care. There must have been something in your words because it caused his breath to hitch and hold on you tighten.

“Do you want this?” While his words were coated in arousal, you could still sense some insecurity. He needed your permission as much as he needed reassurance.

You nodded, “Please, Aemond, touch me.” He wasted no time in connecting your lips again. Except this time it was not soft but desperate. Every emotion you had struggled with melted away as you succumbed to his fervour. Your hands could no longer stay still and so could his. They moved up to his hair and tangled themselves in the silk strands. You had always wanted to know what his hair felt like. Aemond’s own hands ran over the outline your your form, up and down. It was like he was trying to map out your body in his head – a way to permanently memorize every inch.

Every moment, every interaction, each sliver of attention you both gave one another in the past culminated to this. Full, complete, and unencumbered trust in the throes of pleasure.

Your back dug into the high stone railing as he pushed into you further. A small bit of frustration began to bud in you. No matter how close he was, it did not feel like enough. Your brain could not think of much else, other than the complete need for more. One of his hands trailed over your ass and stopped at the back of your thigh. His fingers dug into the plush fabric of your dress as he lifted your leg. You caught on instantly and wrapped it around his waist.

There were little moments when you two of you would pull away to breathe, but they only lasted less than a second before you reunited again – a mess of wet lips and unquenchable fire. With your leg hiked up, he was able to press his crotch against your core. It lit up something in your lower stomach. His hand that held your thigh moved to grab the hem of your dress and hiked it up further. The crisp and cool night air hit your skin and it was then that you were able to truly feel how much your body had heated up in this moment. Aemond’s hands were not the only wandering thing. His lips trailed from yours and landed repeatedly against the flush skin of your face.

It was like Aemond was gone, replaced with a starving devout worshipper pleading for any ounce of reprieve. His opened-mouthed kisses moved further towards your neck, nipping and licking at the skin. All you could do was release short bursts of breaths, where you could see the small puffs in the cool air. The dress had a low neckline, exposing a good portion of the skin. The movement caused your breasts to heave against the fabric and Aemond wasted no time in moving his attention to your chest.

His hand that pushed back the fabric on your leg trailed the skin and moved closer to your core. He hesitated for a moment and pulled away, finally making eye contact with you. He gave you a moment to catch your breath from the intensity, resting his forehead against yours. Aemond was asking for permission and you shook your head in agreement.

“Words, rūklon. I need to hear it. What do you want?” His words erupted some frustration from you.

“Gods damn it, Aemond, please I’ve already said it. Touch me, please.” Your voice was horse with desperation. All he did was let out a small chuckle and smile.

He leaned in so his breath brushed your ear and whispered, “I know, but you’re so easy to rile up.” Aemond picked up your other leg and hoisted you up. You let out a squeal of surprise. He was an elite fighter, training for centuries, but it still shocked you just how strong he was. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he wasted no time in kissing you again. With each step he took, your core rubbed against his. You could feel the hardness of his length brush a particularly sensitive spot through the fabric and let out a moan.

As quickly as you were carried, was as quickly as you found yourself being tossed against the plush warmth of his bed, amidst furs and quilted fabric. Your hips hung near the edge of the bed. You sat up immediately, wanting to chase after Aemond’s lips, but he kneeled in front of you. His head was tilted upwards to watch you as his hands went to unlace your turn shoes. He carefully took them off, his hands caressing your ankles, but his gaze remained on you, wanting to drink up each time you squirmed at his touch.

It was almost painful the way he took his slow time in untying the ribbons that held up your stockings and pulled the embroidered fabric down. Whenever he would expose more skin, his hands would trail over and massage it gently in worshipping movements.

His hands hiked up, and up, and up; pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. You watched him visibly swallow as he took you in. Because you had believed you would be dancing for most of the night, you prepared for the inevitable heat you would be facing – by only wearing a light undergarment under your dress with no covering over your core. You reasoned that if you were going to be moving a lot, you would need the least amount of clothes to keep cool.

Now, in the heat of this moment, you knew that even if you were wearing nothing, it would not keep you cool from feeling like the fire that roared in the hearth next to the bed.

Aemond grabbed your hips to hang over the edge of the bed as he moved closer in his kneeling position. He manoeuvred your thighs to rest on both of his shoulders as he began to kiss and lick the inside of them, brushing so carefully against the soft skin. He moved up further to kiss the juncture between your leg and hip.

He then moved his care to your lower stomach – what little of it was exposed due to the bunched-up dress. Aemond’s lips trailed the area that had lit up with heat since the moment he kissed you on the balcony. You could feel his lips form a smile as he moved further, so dangerously close to your core that had become dripping with want.

Aemond hovered above you, looked up into your eyes, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.” Your breath caught in your throat as his hot breath brushed against your most sensitive spot. There was no time to react when you felt his tongue lick a strip along the length of your slit. The feeling, so sudden and new, had you fall to lay back with your elbows supporting your upper body. Short, quick gasps left your mouth.

His demeanour changed completely, getting lost in his movements as he lapped at your juices. Aemond’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs. One moved up and under your dress, trailing across your heaving stomach and making a home at your breasts. The swipe of his finger against your nipple and the quickening of his tongue’s pace caused a surge of energy to shoot through your body and your arms could no longer support yourself. You fell back fully on the bed with your back arching. Your arms, which had once held strength, fell limp.

Aemond seemed quite content to stay between your thighs. With what little control you had left, you managed to move your hands to his hair, tugging at the strands. That movement spurred Aemond further and he let out a low groan into your flesh. Still fondling your breasts, his other hand moved to your clit and began a steady circular motion. Your gasps turned to wanton moans. Thankfully, Aemond’s room was so far from the others you were glad, for surely with the balcony doors open someone would have heard. His tongue entered you, meticulously caressing your walls.

Your body began to tremble as the pressure in your lower abdomen began to intensify. Your thighs jerked to his motions, nearly grinding on his face.

“A-” You could barely speak and huffed to get the words out, “Aemond I-” He had you on the verge of being undone and knew it. Each movement of his hands and tongue was carefully calculated as he quickly picked up on all the little motions that made you squirm.

“So good,” Between the moments when he would take a second to breathe, he muttered against your skin, “You’re so good f’me.”

It was inescapable now, the buildup. You were lost in the feeling of pleasure that hit you to a degree you had yet to experience. With a final gasp and loud moan, you felt the damn break. It was like falling despite being on a solid surface. Your eyes closed and your fingers tightened in Aemond’s hair as you were overcome with every sensation but somehow none at the same time. You shuddered, but he paid no mind as he continued his movements to help you ride out your high.

Your skin felt warm and feverish. All of this was foreign to you, but you welcomed it. You understood why some people were so hooked on the feeling. If you could experience this with Aemond every day, you would stake your life on it and forgo the rest of the world.

Aemond pulled away, though reluctantly. He grabbed your thighs that rested on his shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before lifting them off and pushing you further onto the bed. Your knees still hung off, but it did not matter as you could barely feel your legs. He stood up and bent to hover over you, his looming presence making you ache for more.

As if he did not just finish feverishly eating you out, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss on the lips with utmost care. While he did so, his hands went to your back and began to untie the dress. Thankfully, it was a light and easy-to-remove one. You watched the darkened expression of his heated gaze as the top layer of your dress was pulled away and exposed the thin see-through white chemise you wore underneath.

It did not exactly leave anything to the imagination. You could hear Aemond’s breath hitch at the sight of you and when you reached up to cup his face his body shuddered as his eye closed for a moment. He grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the pulse point thump faster at his actions.

As soon as his comforting touch met you was as quickly as it left when he pulled back. He worked quickly and diligently, unfastening his doublet and pulling it off with record speed. All you could do was watch on as he undressed himself. You were too stuck in the trance of his form. He kicked off his boots and was then left in nothing but his pants and a thin white loose shirt that tightened at his mid-forearms. You could see the small scars that littered his arms, the same pattern seen in the small area of the exposed part of his chest.

You shuffled forward to plant your feet on the floor but still sat down on the bed. Aemond moved instantly to you, his hands hovering on the short hemline of your chemise. While maintaining eye contact, he pulled up your last layer and up over your head. He tossed it to the side, its existence quickly forgotten and not cared for. You were now completely bare in front of him and suddenly more self-conscious than ever. An uncontrollable feeling to cover yourself began to gnaw at your brain but was quickly quelled by the low groan that came from Aemond.

“So beautiful, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered as if caught in a trance.

He moved to shed his layers as well, but you quickly covered his hands with your own. You wanted to help him as he did for you. It was a moment indescribable between you two. It was tender and calm but underlined with an intense feeling of desire that only grew with each passing second. You took his shirt off and observed the sight of his lean muscles. His arms, which you had quickly grown to love when they were wrapped around you, were composed of lithe muscle built over centuries of training that matched the composition of his torso.

Since that first day in the throne room when you saw him perched upon his throne of tree roots and swords, you had seen him as nothing short of an ethereal vision. A haunting, striking beauty. Before you now, was the same person, but now softer and comforting.

You could not help but get antsy and reached out to pull him to your level. Your arms wrapped around his neck, being engulfed by his free-flowing silk hair. Aemond seemed caught off guard by your sudden dominant movements but melted into your embrace. You met his lips in another hot, searing kiss that reignited the tense fire within your stomach.

As soon as he latched onto you, your hands trailed down the front of his chest. Your fingers felt the rise and fall of his breathing and traced the taught muscled skin further down. When you brushed his stomach, you felt him shudder. He started to plant open-mouthed kisses on your cheek and moved to your neck as your hands quickly moved to make work of the tie for his pants. Everything you did was heated and desperate but met with the same fervour as Aemond.

Once you untied the pants, Aemond quickly shrugged them off. It looked like it pained him to separate from you for only a few seconds. You did not have time to look, for Aemond picked you up from the edge of your bed and tossed you back. Your body fell against the lush bed coverings and your head hit the soft, plush pillows. Now further away, you could take in the full sight of Aemond.

The image of him there, unclothed and waiting for you, was enough to make you feel as though you had died.

He got onto the bed, crawling until he was over you. Being caged in his arms was the safest you had ever felt. Just him and you in the warmth of his chambers high in the sky with nothing but the stars outside.

One of Aemond’s hands trailed to your core, rubbing circular motions over your bud. You bit your lip to hold back the moans, but he instantly stopped after your reaction. His hand hovered over the area, so close you could almost feel it brushing you. Your hips moved up to chase that feeling, but he only pushed you back.

“Don’t bite your lip. Let me hear you, my love.” Aemond’s husky breath was enough to make you melt. You nodded obediently and he resumed his movements. You hummed with content, but was quickly ended when he stopped.

You watched as his hand then drifted to his cock, gripping the base. It was already fully erect and you struggled to comprehend how it would fit. Surely, he did not plan on it all fitting, did he?

Aemond guided his cock down to drag the head between your folds to gather the slick there before settling just outside your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the feeling, desperately waiting for him to move. One of his hands was still gripping your hip while his other forearm rested by your head.

He slowly slid into you, gradually pushing forward. You let out a shuddered gasp and your fingers gripped the sheets below you. He did not rush, nor move with the frantic nature he had previously. Aemond was content where he was, enjoying that his slow pace made you come undone and desperate for more. He let out a low groan as he bottomed out. The intensity of the feeling, of being so full, had you squirming for more movement. You craved friction, really anything, that would send you into another spiralling frenzy.

Aemond kissed your chest softly a few times, “So fucking beautiful.” His silver hair fell like a curtain around you as he lifted his head to kiss you. It was a possessive, protective kiss. You ached for more, but he remained still in you, letting you adjust to his size.

In an act of defiance against him, you move your hips up, chasing some sense of friction. Aemond hissed at that, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Words, baby, tell me what you want.” His kisses that he left on your chest morphed into hot ones as he paid particular attention to one of your nipples. The new sensation had you gasp in surprise.

“Aemond…” You huffed, “Please move.”

He let out a short laugh at your pleading, “As you wish.” Aemond took his time in pulling out, dragging to the very last moment. He then pushed back in and set a steady pace of thrusts. You quickly became a mess of moans at the feeling of being so full of him. His kisses burned into your skin. Your arms wrapped around his lithe figure, trailing nails down his back. The scratching elicited a low groan from the back of his throat and his hips snapped faster.

While his pace had increased, it still did not feel enough. You were not sure you could ever have enough of him. The stretch that his cock gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core. You could hear the low sounds that emanated from Aemond as he too chased the high he was feeling. You began to match his pace, moving your hips in rhythm with his.

It was not intended, but you could not resist reaching out to cup his face and moan out, “So beautiful.”

Aemond faltered at our words, his hips going still as he arched his head up from kissing your neck to look into your eyes. It was like he was searching for the truth, that you really meant the words you said.

“Say that again, rūklon, and I won’t be able to hold back.” He rasped. You wanted to meet his challenge. You had a habit of not obeying his authority, ever since your first days here.

One of your hands moved up to tug at the base of his hair. The action caused something in Aemond’s eye to flicker with a mix of emotions – mischief, lust, and unadulterated love.

“Then don’t.” Something in Aemond snapped. He dropped his hand that was holding your waist and moved the forearms to rest beside your head. He now fully caged you beneath him and something about that dominating move blew more life into the fire within you.

He gave you no warning when he lost it, thrusting into you with relentless speed. Your back arched at the change of pace. Air caught in your lungs and you could barely make any noise. Aemond was the opposite. He buried his head in your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as he started to babble incoherent words in his language.

The once stable movement he held began to unwind as he moved with reckless abandon. No longer did Aemond care for the perfect posture, but his brain chased any and every ounce of pleasure he could find. You could feel his emotions and it was all overwhelming. You could feel the care, the love, and the hunger he had for you. You were glad to know he could feel the same from you. Your cunt squeezed around him as the build-up in your stomach started to increase.

Aemond could sense it and he moved a hand carefully down your stomach and towards your bud, moving his fingers with the pace he was going. His calloused fingers added another texture and sensation that had you moaning with every inhale and exhale. You were careening over the edge of bliss.

“You feel so fucking good. Gods-” Aemond moaned. His other hand connected with yours. They were both the cut hands from your ceremony. Something about the physical remains of your joined souls stimulated a sensation that overcame you both. You recklessly moved your hips up to chase more of it.

“Aemond I-” You bit down hard on your lip, but that did nothing to conceal the sweet noises that left them. Tears pooled in your eyes from the pleasure. Aemond moved his head up to kiss you on the lips, both becoming swollen from the day's events. His thrusts felt better than anything and you wished to indulge in this for eternity.

“Don’t fight it, my love, let go,” Aemond murmured between kissing you. You bit his bottom lip and it made him growl. Somehow, in a way that struck you as impossible, Aemond thrust faster. It was enough to send you toppling over the precipice. Your mouth opened wide as your head pushed back into the plush pillows. Aemond continued his pace, but it soon became a mix of fast and slow movement as he came.

The two of you were lost in it all, each accepting the shattering moment. You both rode out your highs, moaning a mix of curses and each other's names. Everything mixed into a muted mess of sensations and sounds. You felt his body drop onto yours, sweaty and hot just like you. You clung to him, wishing to continue to feel that sense of closeness.

Minutes of silence passed. Aemond breathed deeply to catch himself and you rubbed up and down his back gently, your fingers trailing over the battle scars and marks your very nails just made. It was almost beautiful to feel marks made out of love cover the ones from hate and aggression. If you had voiced that, Aemond would have likely said you applied that sentiment to all aspects of his life.

He pulled off of you and moved to your side. You laid on your back, slightly angled to look at him as he propped himself on his side. You felt his arm wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. The skin-on-skin contact was something you wished to never end. There, with the sounds of the crackling fire and the gentle breeze from the open balcony doors cooling your skin off, you felt like you were home.

You surveyed his form next to you. The muscular stature had some patches of scars from various training blunders and moments of futility on the battlefield. There, next to the abs on his stomach, was the scar that he had received from Cole. Your hand moved to trace it, suddenly caught in the memories of how close he was to death.

“It does not hurt anymore. Just another mark from my life.” Aemond dismissed your worry and wished to provide comfort. He kissed your temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. He too moved his hand to your side, where the scar you had received from Cole was. For you, this was the first one you got.

It was at that moment that something odd struck you, causing you to laugh gently. Aemond’s face scrunched up at your sudden outburst.

“We have two sets of matching scars.” It was both funny but also upsetting. Only one of those sets, the marriage cuts, were welcomed. The other, you could do without. But, without such hurt, you were not sure you and Aemond would be where you were in your relationship then.

“That we do,” Aemond responded. His eye was trained on your face, unwilling to look away. You shivered, either from his touch or the cool breeze coming in from the outside. Aemond then grabbed the sheets from around you, pulling on the thin silk sheet and adding some plush furs on top. You hardly felt the need for them when his warm body next to yours was enough.

Aemond shifted onto his back and let you rest your head on his chest. You used your fingers to trace patterns on his skin, relishing in the closeness of the moment. He stroked your hair, placing a kiss on the side of your head every few minutes. The two of you basked in the comfort of silence.

For so long each of your lives had been nothing but chaos. Barrier after barrier flung in your way. It was good and rewarding to know there was nothing imminent. No need to rush and get something done, or sleep whenever you can for just a little moment of rest.

Nothing existed outside the door of this chamber. No one but you two.

Aemond interrupted the silence, “I’m afraid I will have to spend the rest of eternity between your thighs.” Despite the recent indulgence of your growing desire, his comment caused your cheeks to heat up. You were so flustered by his words as if he had not just made you see stars a few minutes prior.

“And neglect your kingdom? Surely at some point, your guards would pull you away so you could serve.” You angled your head to look at him, poking fun at his words. Aemond rubbed your side, his hand trailing to the back of your thigh and dragging your leg to rest across his waist. He could not get enough of feeling you close to him.

“I serve my wife before all.” Aemond spoke, “Every guard in this damn castle could try and pull me away.” You could hear the joking lilt in his voice and it was comforting to know how far you had come with him. Never in any possible time would you have guessed you would be close enough with him to jest.

“You think you’re a jester, my king?” You challenged. Aemoned licked his lips and you could see his eye darken with a familiar feeling of lust.

“Only for you, my queen.” He muttered before lifting his head to kiss you. It was slow and patient, indulging in every emotion you felt for one another. You let out a low, pleased moan. Taking advantage of your position, you moved your legs to rest on either side of his hips and sat on top of him. You could feel him smile into the kiss at your eagerness to be with him again. Your hands pinned his above his head and you deepened the kiss, urging for more.

Aemond was your everything. Your king, your friend, your lover, your husband.

Perhaps, now, you did not mind the title of queen, because it meant that you were his and he was yours.

And that's a wrap on book one!

Since the early phases of planning, I have always intended to write two books. Now, this was written in a way that you could stop at the first one if you wished, but there are still some unanswered questions that will be addressed in the next book. (Such as Cole’s mysterious last words…)

The next one is an Aegon and OC centred book that I am super excited about! There will be moments with Aemond and the new Queen, but ultimately it will revolve around Aegon. It has been extremely hard to resist from immediately releasing it.

As always, thank you all so much for the support. I did not expect to see so many people supporting it and for that, I am eternally grateful. If you choose to stick around, I’ll see you in the next book! <3

BOOK TWO MASTERLIST HERE.

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #dark elf #elf #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond

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akascow · 3 days ago

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yet another JAYVIK post about the Butterfly Effect :3

also spoilers lol

So Hextech isn't invented in Ekko's alternate timeline, and I feel like since life seemed so much better without Hextech there can be a couple things to infer about alternate Jayce and, by association, our Jayce (and Viktor!) here:

this is a long one and my long posts never get notes but i promise its actually super interesting to think about so u should totally read through it 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🔥

1. (and also my favorite one bc its Very JayVik lmao) alternate Jayce never pursued Hextech after the explosion: maybe too guilty over killing someone (because we see alternate Vi died from that explosion during the kids' robbery), he does what Heimerdinger advises him to: fully admitting his crimes and not mentioning the arcane. And we can assume the academy burned all his studies too becauseeeeee…

Viktor never endorsed it. Assuming the admission of guilt theory is correct- Viktor never would’ve even known about the arcane in the first place, because Jayce would never mention it in the council room trial. Viktor would never know that the arcane can be used to help cure people, which we see is what piques his interest in the first place. And like, obviously Viktor wants to cure his leg and illness lol

Which means Viktor never interrupted Jayce's suicide attempt after the trial and Jayce probably goes through with killing himself, Viktor never went to check on him. It seems the compelling force behind Viktor’s interrupting in season 1 was initially from Jayce’s journal, which he picks up while browsing all the Hextech equipment they were planning to destroy. Viktor only really looks at the notes because he was interested in the arcane in the first place, which again, can't happen if Jayce never mentions it in the council room.

Which is SO important to the plot and me that everything happened the exact way that it did for everything to succeed (which is quite literally the butterfly effect btw lmao). Because it shows how extremely important Jayce and Viktor’s partnership was to not only their own lives, but the entire future of Piltover, good or bad ie no hextech=no shimmer and peace between the cities, hextech= tons of shimmer, the corruption of the arcane, and the destruction of piltover.

Jayce needed someone there to believe in him, and that was Viktor: After the council disagrees with him, and he’s kicked out of the academy and banned from studying the arcane, he tries to find comfort with his mother. She’s the one who was saved using the arcane in the first place after all, so surely she’ll understand. But she tells him to give up on this dream, a dream he’s had almost his entire life. His own mother doesn’t believe in him.

He then goes to the Kiramman’s because “I'll find someone to believe in me,” most likely assuming if they sponsored his studies in the first place, they would still support him after the trial. But they kick him out from the Kiramman household too, as well as forbid his and Caitlyn’s friendship. And with no one left, the very next scene we see of him is as he’s deciding to jump.

The only thing that stops him is Viktor showing up. With an interest in the Hextech theory after he reads Jayce’s notes, Viktor wants to help Jayce make the Hextech a reality. Viktor believes in him, and he supports him. That interaction is what leads to their partnership forming, them sneaking back into the lab, grabbing the Hextech equipment and showing Mel and Heimerdinger that it was possible to create magic, and Mel's influence leading to the council’s support and the okay on continuing to develop Hextech together, projecting Piltover into success (and of course accelerating it into ruin, seen in s2. but I won’t get into that snowballing effect here because we’ll be here for hours)

Also, Viktor would be against Hextech if his first and only introduction to seeing it was as a tool to invoke harm (on a Zaunite especially). Which is what would drive Viktor away from investigating it, and before their theory ever even has the chance to get off the ground or evolve, it's already dead in the water for good because:

Something both of them, but especially Viktor, have been extremely against during the entire show was that their plans for Hextech WILL NOT be used as weapons to kill or harm, only to make lives better (especially in the undercity). Think about it: Viktor only adamantly opposed using the Hexcore AFTER it killed Skye.

The guilty conscience of accidentally killing another person with his own technology would not have helped Jayce’s mental state either lol. Like, think about the DIRECT PARALLEL in our timeline: where Viktor almost jumps and kills himself, after Skye's death, as a result of his tampering with the Hexcore, before Jayce interrupts him (ohhh their mirroring, it hurts me)

2. If not from jumping, then alternate Jayce was arrested or exiled… I mean like, he inadvertently killed a young Zaunite girl. That's a lot more consequential to his conscience, reputation, house name AND criminal record than just the building blowing up in our timeline. It’s pretty vague if anyone died in our timeline from it, I think the most that’s mentioned is some people were injured (“Was anyone hurt?” “A building was blown to bits, what do you think?”) so it would weigh heavier on Jayce’s shoulders if someone actually died in this timeline.

Also remember: he felt so guilty about accidentally killing a child with his hammer in s1, that he gave up entirely on trying to wipe out the production of Shimmer. Once he sees how his Hextech can be used against someone, he drops all his plans because "thats not what we created Hextech for"

From that theory, I'm assuming more-so that he was exiled though? Because Heimerdinger said he was in the alternate timeline for like 3 years and couldn't find Jayce, so I don't know... plus I feel like he would have found Jayce in jail if he was there lol.

And beforeeeee anyone yaps, ik Heimerdinger actually said he thinks Jayce ended up somewhere else, and never specifically stated that he "couldn't find Jayce". BUT from the end, since we see two Ekko's before he goes back to the main timeline, we can assume that the original person's mind inhabits the other's body so that there aren't like paradoxical two people in one place at the same time.

SO theoretically, Heimerdinger actually does go looking for Jayce, and if he found the alternate timeline's Jayce, he probably would've mentioned it to Ekko when asked if Jayce was there too… right? I’m assuming he was hanging around Ekko for most of the 3 years that he was there, waiting for our Ekko to be projected into the alternate Ekko, because it's not like Heimerdinger just happened to show up right when our Ekko gets there, he might’ve assumed it would happen eventually. And when the alternate Ekko starts freaking out about being in the wrong universe, it's pretty clear that this is his Ekko now lol

But then why stick around Ekko and not Jayce? I guess he was currently closer to Ekko, calling him his current pupil, and given that he was the one who showed him the Firelights community and gave him hope. Plus I mean, Jayce literally voted him off the council from a disagreement over the Hexcore so there's some salt in the wound there lmao. Or maybe because Ekko is a lot younger and would not react as calmly or rationally as Jayce would (I'm assuming... idrk HAHA). You could argue that Heimerdinger was just visiting both of them back and forth, but again if he couldn't find any Jayce, then I think it would explain why he doesn’t mention any Jayce at all, and that's where this make the most sense, at least to me.

3. alternate Jayce also died in the explosion with Vi- When we see it in our timeline, he and Vi were the closest to the blast. If it killed Vi, it would’ve presumably killed Jayce too. And if he did die, then obviously Hextech would never be invented, reasons being: everything I just mentioned in the previous theories.. but like, even more simplified bc he wasn't there to begin with lol

I only say it's a weaker theory because Heimerdinger definitely would've seen a memorial for him (or at the very least a gravestone), given Jayce was in the Talis house and under the study of the Kiramman family, it was a pretty high status name compared to the average Piltovian citizen, and probably wouldn’t be silenced or brushed away…

Although to counter that, I guess since everything in the over city is super status-y, maybe the Kiramman’s wouldn't want their name being tied with the death of two people, which is a similar but obviously more significant reason to why they kicked him out of their house in our timeline after the trial, his “name is no good now.” Plus we hear in the council trial from Ximena that the Talis family is a lower house too, and their voice doesn’t hold as much weight, so maybe it wouldn’t actually have that much mention? He hasn’t become the “Man of Progress” yet either since he’d never get to finish his studies…hmmmmm idk

anyway thats all i have. if you made it this far i greatly appreciate you :3 🫶🏻 i love analyzing this show because OUGH the jayvik butterfly effect goes CRAZY HARD bc its both figurative with the theory and literal with the butterflies being in SO MUCH of their imagery UGHHHHH what the FUCKKKK

also shameless post self promo

symbolism of viktor’s humanity

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zepskies · 13 hours ago

Text

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you?

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair.

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too!

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil.

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to—

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile.

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe.

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new.

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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al0velyuniverse · 1 day ago

Note

POOKIE love love love the ghoap x reader content thank for feeding me nomnomnom BUT what about ghoap x reader where reader is a member of 141?? like a whole lethal force of her own and not like a barracks bunny and whatnot 🤨🤨 just a thought :3

Oh absolutely!! I will say unless i specifically say reader is a barracks bunny reader is usually 141’s civilian sweetheart!

but let’s get some sexy bad ass reader up in here with Ghoap

- the first time they see reader was when they accidentally walked into one of your sparring sessions and watched you take down a man closer in size/stature to them than yourself (they were instantly smitten)

- the boys were definitely together before meeting you, so winning you over was a group effort

- and what an effort it was, you would not give them the time of day for MONTHS. Not wanting anyone to assume you got as far as you did from sleeping with or flirting with men of a higher rank

- going out for drinks with the 141 is a nightmare. Any time you find a guy you’re interested and the two of you start flirting Ghost will give them a look that sends them running or Soap will drape himself on you like he already owns you

- you’ve definitely kicked Soaps ass in a sparring session more than once (much to Ghosts delight. you can keep Soap in his place, he likes that)

- While you can’t best him in any sort of physical competition you can outshoot Ghost 7 times out of 10 and you will never let him live down your wins

- When they finally convince you to go out on a date with them they would not stop celebrating

- Despite hyping themselves up every moment leading up to the date they damn near fumble you entirely, Ghost tripping over his words and Soap being far too eager

- somehow those boys manage to charm you. Not enough to go home with them after that first date, but enough to agree to go on a second date

- When you finally get together officially the news spreads like a wild fire around base, both jealous and terrified whispers circulating right back to you three

- Price took to calling you the ‘terror trio’ because of how deadly the three of you were on the field (definitely not because of the absolute headache the three of you together gives him)

- they’re completely obsessed with you, their cutthroat sweetheart. They like that nobody tries to mess with you because you’re scary, not them.

#cod x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #ghoap x reader #cod fic #cod soap #cod ghost #cod ghoap #ghoap #ghoap fic

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silkscream · 2 days ago

Text

CHAPTER 16: CUPID'S CHOKEHOLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to a head.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of pregnancy, angst, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, riding, teasing, light degradation, dacryphilia, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 8.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy thanksgiving yall can stop threatening me with bombs now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2011

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you lead Megumi and Tsumiki down the bustling street. Christmas decorations twinkle in shop windows. You pull your scarf tighter, glancing back to make sure the children are keeping up.

Megumi trudges along, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression as serious as ever. Tsumiki, by contrast, practically skips beside you, her eyes wide with wonder at the festive displays. They both wear matching blushes, the cold painting their pale cheeks the same roseate pink.

"Can we get taiyaki?" Tsumiki asks, tugging on your sleeve and pointing to a small shop ahead.

You smile down at her. "Of course. What about you, Megumi? What would you like?"

The boy shrugs, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Whatever's fine."

You lead them into the warmth of the taiyaki shop, the sweet aroma of red bean paste and custard filling the air. As you wait in line, you crouch down to Megumi's level.

"You know," you say softly, ruffling his hair, "it's okay to want things, Megumi. To have preferences. You don't always have to go along with what everyone else wants."

He looks at you, surprise flashing across his face before his usual stoic expression returns. "I... I like the chocolate ones," he admits quietly.

You scratch his head affectionately. "Chocolate it is, then."

You place your order - custard for Tsumiki, chocolate for Megumi, and red bean for yourself. Afterwards, you find a bench in a nearby park to enjoy your treats. Tsumiki chatters away about her upcoming school play, while Megumi listens intently, occasionally nodding or offering a quiet comment.

"You’re gonna stay with us for the holidays, right? Are you gonna move in?" Tsumiki asks suddenly, her voice hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, and you fumble for an answer. "Um, yeah, I will. Stay, that is. And you guys know you can always just knock on my door downstairs."

You’d agreed to stay until the semester ended in the spring. You’d been around for a little over a month, but you already had your doubts about going back to Kyoto. Already, you found yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning while in Tokyo, seasonal depression be damned. You tell yourself it’s not because of the white-haired sorcerer that occupies your thoughts constantly — it’s the familiarity of the city. And the kids, of course.

To both Tsumiki and Satoru’s dismay (and a slight frown from Megumi), you decided to take the offer of an apartment the floor below them. It wasn’t exactly vacant, as Satoru claimed — the previous tenant, a well-off socialite of some sort, needed a sublet. You needed your own space from Satoru for your own sanity, and he was willing to pay the rent for the allotted time you could be there.

Tsumiki pouts. “But it’s easier if you just live in our apartment!”

“I can’t do that since you’ve converted the spare room into yours with all your dolls laying around,” you snort. Tsumiki opens her mouth to protest but decides against it, considering you have a point.

“Hmph. Still. You can sleep in Satoru’s room, right? It’s so big!”

Your face nearly pales at the suggestion, ironically. As if it was something scandalous, which perhaps it would be considering your complicated relationship. You’re sure he’d be thrilled if you brought it up.

Megumi looks up at you, his green eyes serious. "We like having you here," he says softly. "Satoru-san is... different when you're around. Better."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "Better?"

Tsumiki nods enthusiastically. "He smiles more! And he doesn't forget to make breakfast as much."

You chuckle, imagining Satoru's indignant expression if he could hear this conversation. "Well, I'm glad I can help. But Satoru cares about you both very much, you know."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a photo attachment from him. There’s a boiling pot of… something, on the stove.

satoru: you guys aren’t going to leave me to eat by myself, are you????? ^-^

you: we’ll be home soon. the kids wanted taiyaki

satoru: don’t help them spoil their dinner :(

you: it’s probably more edible than what you’re making

satoru: :( say that to my face at least :(

You chuckle, locking your phone. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get home before Satoru burns down the kitchen.”

As you walk back home with Megumi and Tsumiki, their words echo in your mind. The realization that you've become such an integral part of their lives fills you with a trepidation, but also tenderness. You've been careful not to overstep, to maintain some semblance of boundaries, but the lines have been blurring more and more each day.

The apartment is warm and inviting when you return, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You help the kids out of their winter gear, hanging up coats and scarves as they rush to see what Satoru is cooking.

You follow more slowly, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Satoru stands at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's wearing the ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron you bought him as a joke for his birthday.

Satoru looks up, catching your eye. His face breaks into a warm smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat.

"Welcome home," he says softly. “Did you guys have fun?”

Tsumiki launches into an excited recounting of your afternoon, while Megumi nods along, occasionally adding a quiet comment. Satoru listens attentively, his expression softening as he watches the children.

You move into the kitchen, drawn by the warmth and the tantalizing aroma. "What's for dinner?" you ask, peering into the pot.

"Curry," Satoru announces proudly. "My specialty."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Since when is curry your specialty?"

He grins, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "Since I found your recipe book and followed the instructions very, very carefully."

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You playfully push him away, ignoring the knowing look Tsumiki gives you.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation flows easily. Megumi talks about a new technique he's been practicing, while Tsumiki regales you with tales from her drama club. Satoru watches it all with a contented smile, occasionally catching your eye across the table.

Later, after the kids have gone to bed, you find yourself alone with Satoru in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you absently run your fingers through his hair.

Satoru stretches languidly, cat-like. The movement causes his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing his stomach. You force yourself to look away, busying yourself with whatever’s on the television.

“So," Satoru says, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want for Christmas?"

You look down to face him, scoffing. "Who says I'm expecting anything from you?"

He grins that cocky, infuriating grin that still makes your stomach flip. "Come on, Twigs. There must be something you want."

“Haven’t really thought about it.

“C’mon. You must have.”

You weigh your words carefully. "How about... a nice, quiet evening, where you don’t bother me with your bullshit?"

Satoru laughs, his blue eyes warm as he regards you. "I think that can be arranged," he says softly.

He gets closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that you find yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low, "the kids were asking me the other day if you were going to be their new mom."

Your breath catches in your throat. You narrow your eyes. "That’s not funny."

“What? Their words, not mine.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Satoru, we've talked about this. We can't just jump into playing house. It's not fair to the kids."

He sits up, his expression suddenly serious. "I know. But... is it so crazy to think about? Us, together, raising them? I mean, we’ve already been doing it, basically, right?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you. You can feel your heart racing, a mix of longing and fear swirling in your chest.

"It's not crazy," you admit softly. "But it's complicated. We have a lot of history, Satoru. A lot of things we still need to work through. Also, you’re freshly twenty-two. That’s hardly the age to be a considered a guardian."

“But I am their guardian!” he frowns. “And your mom’s pretty young. Didn’t she have you around our age?”

“That’s not even — we’re going off topic. This isn’t about me having a kid,” you blush, the brief thought of mothering a child of your own with Satoru send a brief shock to your chest. “Just relax, okay? Take things slow.”

Satoru intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Slow," he agrees. "I can do slow."

But even as he says it, you can see the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But just so you know, I'm not very good at being patient."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gojo Satoru."

He grins, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "Can you blame me? Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your thigh. "Satoru," you warn, but there's no real heat behind it.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm behaving. This is me behaving."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quips, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver at the contact, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "The kids," you remind him weakly.

"Are fast asleep," he murmurs against your skin. "And I can be very, very quiet when I need to be."

“Speaking of asleep,” you say quickly, leaning away. “That’s exactly what I need to be right now.”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a whine, which you would rebuke more efficiently if the sound didn’t make heat settle in the pit of your stomach.

“You still didn’t give me my birthday present,” he murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness in his gaze.

“I didn’t say I’d fuck you.”

“You kind of did,” he pouts.

“You’re still on that, huh? I was teasing you. And drunk.”

The last time you’d went out for drinks with him and Shoko, you’d gone home with him in a good mood, apparently good enough to let him be handsy. He took whatever crumbs he could get from you, played the part of a good dog after he had a few fruity cocktails. You let him kiss you on the side of your mouth and you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Even if he’d shut up, the puppy-dog looks he’d throw you would push you over the edge.

“You tease me every damn day by existing. I should banish you.”

“Right. Like you’d survive more time apart from me,” you snort.

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes. “I love you too much.”

You meet his gaze, face warming at the casualness of his declaration. This is Satoru stripped bare, all his walls down, offering you his heart. It’s still something you’re not used to — the way he gives affection so easily. He always had, of course, but never so candid in sincerity.

It made you sick almost, like being sugar-drunk on something much too decadent. Humiliated you with how warm it made you, your tongue heavy as lead in your mouth like a teenager again.

“Oh?” Satoru grins. “Did that get you going?”

��No. Shut up.”

“You like that. Noted.”

You scoff, rising from the couch. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” he calls after you. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, weirdo,” you huff, trudging your feet towards the door. You pause as you touch the doorknob before turning around. “I love you too.”

You leave too quickly to gauge his reaction, but you feel his smile burn into the back of your neck.

You come home to Jiji rubbing his head against your shin. He was still small — a runt, resembling more like a soot sprite than the Ghibli cat he was named after. He acted a lot like Megumi, truthfully. Clung to you, bombarded your space especially if Satoru was around.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, scooping the cat from the floor to nuzzle. “You miss the kids, don’t you?”

He mews at you as if to say yes and you grin. You make your way upstairs, Jiji’s head tucked in your shoulder as you unlock Satoru’s apartment with your spare key.

Satoru is already in the kitchen, hair tousled from the day’s mission. His eyes light up when he sees you walk in. “Twigs! Ready for Operation Birthday Boy?” he grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you can greet him properly, your gaze drifts over the amount of balloons and streamers haphazardly aligning the walls. Many are Digimon-themed, despite knowing full well that Megumi preferred Pokemon, but that isn’t an argument that was worth having with Satoru unless you wanted him to revert to his child-self.

“You… went all out,” you mutter, still examining the expanse of the living room. There were streamers every color under the sun strung around, comically bright in contrast with the luxury apartments plain white walls.

The smell of cake batter and melting chocolate permeates through the air. You notice then as you step closer towards Satoru that the Italian marble of the kitchen island is dusted with flour. You groan.

“Satoru, I thought we were picking up a cake—”

“But a homemade one has more love!” he scoffs. He’s made a mess of his apron, not to mention there was a streak of pink frosting on his cheekbone.

“And who said you were qualified enough to bake?”

“Hey! I’m trying here! And don’t worry, I’m not making dinner, obviously. We still have to pick up the hors d’oeuvres from the catering place—”

“What? We’re celebrating a nine-year-old.”

“You get expensive taste when you live with me,” he shrugs. “You like oysters, right? I heard it’s a really good aphrodisiac— ow!”

He flinches when you flick him in the forehead. He pouts, rubbing his head as if you’d actually inflicted damage on him.

“The hell was that for?”

You ignore his question. “Where are the kids? It’s like… dinner time. School should be out by now.”

“I told Shoko to pick them up and stall. I’m still preparing.”

“Satoru — seriously? You decided to make the cake right before we celebrate?”

“It won’t take long! This is a state-of-the-art oven for your information!” Satoru scoffs, rinsing his hands in the sink. The amount of flour on the marble of the island makes you cringe. And was that… an egg yolk stain in the corner?

“That doesn’t mean—”

The oven beeps as if to taunt you. Satoru grins, putting on oven mitts that are comically too small for him to take out the cake. It’s certainly cake-shaped despite the lumpy bubbles on top.

“Wanna help me decorate the cake for the birthday boy?”

You move in front of him, shooing him away. He pouts again, the expression making you want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him, and hands you a butter knife and a tub of mint green frosting.

“Go crazy, Twigs,” he sighs. “I should shower anyway.”

You take the time to meticulously cover the entirety of the chocolate cake in the frosting, with Happy Birthday, Megumi! in loopy script in the middle. You’re quick to clean the rest of the kitchen, still reeling from how much of a mess Satoru managed to make in your absence.

By the time Satoru emerges from his bedroom, the kitchen is mostly clean, and he steps into the room in a crisp baby-blue dress shirt and black slacks. You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly at the sight of it. It was your favorite outfit on him and he probably wore it knowing that. You huff lightly, looking away.

You gain reprieve from his teasing when you hear the door open. More balloons float into the room, all bound in Tsumiki’s small hand as she walks in with Shoko and Megumi.

“Happy birthday, Megumi-kun!” you exclaim in glee, walking towards him for a hug. He smiles brightly, blushing as he hugs you back.

Satoru notices the takeout boxes in Shoko’s hands and raises a brow. “You took them to eat dinner already?”

“Obviously. They definitely weren’t going to eat the foie gras you ordered or whatever the fuck,” she snorts. “But more for the adults, eh?”

“Can you not swear around them –”

“I knew the word fuck before!” Tsumiki beams. You share an exasperated look with Satoru, but he’s only holding in a laugh.

As Shoko and Satoru get the kids settled, you lock Jiji in the spare room to prevent Megumi’s Divine dogs from chasing the poor thing. They were all bared teeth, bright eyes. Still puppies, still young like the kids.

Afterwards, you return to the living room just in time for Satoru to bring out the cake with pastel lit candles atop of it.

Megumi is quiet as everyone shrouds him, gazing at the birthday cake like he’s never seen one before. He hasn’t really — maybe he did when his parents were still together and alive and didn’t fuck off to somewhere else, he doesn’t know — but even he did, he wouldn’t remember. He had only known shared dandelion wishes with Tsumiki, fuzzy memories of Toji patting his head when on his sixth birthday.

You look at him now and you see a child who doesn’t know what to do with all the love surrounding him, and the sight reminds you of yourself.

“Make a wish, Megumi,” you say softly. He looks up at you with wide eyes as if making a wish were to make a sacrifice. He closes his eyes and blows the candles out, smiling softly as everyone claps.

You lean back on the couch as you watch him unwrap his presents, which include an abundance of hastily-wrapped boxes from Satoru. Toya and electronics that the kid probably haven’t dreamt of owning. Satoru was still young in his own right and it showed in his animated way of speaking, excitedly presenting his gifts to Megumi like he was an older brother. Your chest feels uncharacteristically warm as you watch.

You, Satoru, and Shoko watch as the kids play amongst themselves, indulging yourselves in the catering that Satoru had bought, which was more of a luxury takeout order more than anything. The bottle of wine that Shoko had brought makes you able to tolerate Satoru’s antics. You refuse to admit to him, but you even find him endearing tonight.

After the ordeal, Shoko hugs you and departs to her own apartment, while Satoru entertains the kids with a new video game console he’d bought for Megumi. After cleaning, Satoru insists in you joining, which results in many competitive games of Super Street Fighter IV.

Tsumiki is the first to doze off on the couch, her head cradled in your lap as you stroke her hair gently.

“Hey, kid,” Satoru whispers to Megumi, “Looks like your sister’s knocked out. It’s about time for bed, don’t ya think?”

“But I wanted to play more Final Fantasy!” Megumi whines.

“We can play some more tomorrow,” you quip. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he pouts, taking your hand as you lead him to his bedroom.

Satoru is lounging on the couch once you return, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a good mom.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Told you we’re not playing house, Satoru,” you scoff, slumping your body into the couch next him.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m just complimenting your ability to rein in some brats.”

“Had a lot of practice from you.”

He laughs.

You glance at him, noticing his mussed-up hair, the soft wrinkles of his button-down. He looked more grown-up than he meant to be. It wasn’t that Satoru looked particularly mature, but seeing him slightly disheveled after handling Megumi’s birthday made him look older than how you’d seen him in earlier years — childish, boyish. In the light of the dim lamp beside him, he looked like a man with responsibilities.

It was like seeing him in the future. But you’re here now, in his apartment, in the present, and the sight of him looking so domestic is doing awful things to your heart.

“You’re… really good with them, too, you know. You don’t really need me,” you murmur.

“Huh?” Satoru raises his brows. “No. Of course I need you.”

You almost blush at that. You’re glad for the wine that he’s given you, relaxing your muscles, giving you an excuse for the flush in your cheeks.

“You can do it on your own, though,” you say softly. “You’re just… better at this than I thought you’d be. It’s admirable. That’s all.”

His gaze softens. “Thanks, Twigs. That means a lot.”

He looks at you then, almost amused, as if the concept of a compliment from you had been completely unheard of. As if the notion alone made him flattered enough to forget humility. (Though, you’re sure the prodigal Satoru Gojo has never known humility.)

“So you’re praising me, then? Do I win best babysitter of the year?” he chuckles.

“Sure. Whatever,” you snort. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Oh, but I must. You think I’m a complete disaster usually, but you’re telling me I was good with the kids tonight? My head is huge, Twigs.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. Trying to hide the way your stomach feels hotter when you look at him and his charming grin. He looks back at you with an expression that makes your pulse go faster.

“You’re cute.”

You blink at him. His voice is heady and husky, his gaze soft. Tentative as he leans in, clearly wary that he’d spook you by crossing the invisible line you’ve set since you decided to move back to Tokyo.

“Speechless, baby?” he drawls. “I didn’t even try hard at flirting this time.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, paying more attention to your glass of wine. “You’re hardly seducing me right now.”

“Never said I was trying to,” he murmurs, leaning into you. His hand is on your knee and you don’t swat him away, for once. In his mind, this is progress.

“But you’re always trying to.” You narrow your eyes.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice like warm honey. “Mm. Am not.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed now.” You rise from the couch, but Satoru catches your wrist in his large, pale hand. You look at him with a brow raised.

“Sleep here tonight?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please? I won’t try anything.”

You contemplate. You aren’t truly at the brink of exhaustion, but the demands Yaga-sensei made of you at school had started to become one of your main stressors. You’re tired. You definitely don’t feel like going downstairs to your own apartment, Jiji in hand, having to clean up the mess in your own space that you ignored in lieu of preparing for Megumi’s birthday.

You swallow, clenching your jaw. “Fine. I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

Satoru smiles wide, flashing his white teeth. Angel-headed under the soft glow of the lamp. You have to look away before your stomach stirs with something you’ll ruminate over.

“Stay in my bed?”

“Satoru—”

“Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. Also, the spare room is a mess. The kids made a blanket fort in there last night that is yet to be deconstructed.”

“Okay. Whatever,” you mutter, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up. Afterwards, you return to Jiji and scoop him up in your arms, pleased at the way the cat nuzzles into your face.

You step into Satoru's bedroom, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The bed is enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that look almost too pristine to touch. It smells faintly of him—clean, like fresh linen and a hint of something sharp and sweet, like cedarwood mixed with sugar. You’re already regretting this decision, though perhaps not entirely for the reasons you’d like to admit.

You undress and change into one of his t-shirts before crawling into his bed. Satoru follows you in shortly after, pausing in the doorway with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” he begins, leaning casually against the frame as he folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t think my birthday present would be you gracing me with your presence in my bed tonight, but honestly? Best gift ever.”

You glare at him from over your shoulder as you set Jiji down on the floor. The little cat immediately darts under Satoru’s bed for refuge—likely avoiding any further encounters with Megumi’s Divine dogs, or perhaps the bubbling conflict in the room itself.

“Your birthday was weeks ago. Don’t push your luck,” you warn flatly. “I gave in because I’m tired. This isn’t some… romantic gesture.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases, taking a few steps closer until he towers over you. His voice drops to a playful murmur as he gleefully adds, “But it could be.”

You groan audibly and climb onto the far side of the bed—intentionally as far away from him as possible—and tug the edge of the comforter over yourself without sparing him another glance. "Goodnight, Satoru."

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling off his socks and tossing them carelessly across the room. He casually strips off his shirt and pants, throwing them somewhere near the hamper – not inside it, of course – before flopping down beside you like a content cat. He stretches out languidly, one arm tucked behind his head as he turns to watch you. You try not to dwell on the fact that he’s beside you, only in his boxers.

The room falls quiet save for the soft hum of the heater kicking on and Jiji occasionally rustling beneath the bed. You shut your eyes tightly and try to relax, but there’s no ignoring how aware you are of Satoru's presence beside you—the way his breathing evens out gradually or how his arm brushes yours when he shifts.

Minutes pass in silence before he finally speaks again, his voice softer this time—devoid of its usual teasing edge. “You really think I’m good with them? Megumi and Tsumiki?”

You open your eyes but don’t immediately respond. There’s something vulnerable about his tone that catches you off guard—a rare glimpse at the pieces of himself he so often keeps hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly after a pause. Turning your head slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you add honestly, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

He turns his head toward you now too, studying you intently. For a second, neither of you speak. His gaze holds yours long enough for your chest to tighten uncomfortably under its weight.

“You’re good for them too,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. His voice has lost all pretense now—it’s raw and earnest in a way that has always made you feel unsteady around him. "For us."

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls over you both, but you can still feel Satoru’s begging eyes boring into your skull. You look over to him and it feels like his blue eyes are glowing in the dark. He strips his gaze from you and looks up at the ceiling instead, feigning a casual demeanor.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension. You can feel the heat radiating from Satoru's body, achingly close yet still too far. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, are dark and intense as they roam over your face.

"Twigs," he murmurs, his voice low. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. In the dim light, his eyes are impossibly blue, gleaming with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

"I meant what I said," Satoru continues, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're good for us. For me."

He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. You can feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leans in.

You swallow hard. "Satoru," you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

He sighs but leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Please."

You know you should push him away. You know this is dangerous territory, that you're teetering on the edge of something irreversible. You’re too stubborn for your own good, both you and Satoru know this. It’s why you curl into his chest instead of pressing your mouth to his. The fear of falling into his charm is futile, especially with how much you want him, frustratingly so.

Satoru's hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, it occurs to you how close you are to him, how intimate this feels. The air between you feels charged, electric.

He says your name, this time, bedroom-soft. Not Twigs, not baby, but your name.

Instead of shying away as you normally might, something shifts inside you. Maybe it's the wine from earlier, or the vulnerability in Satoru's voice, or simply the culmination of months of unresolved tension. Whatever it is, it emboldens you.

In one fluid motion, you grab Satoru’s wrist, pinning it above his head as you roll on top of him. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Is this what you want, Satoru?" you breathe, your face inches from his. "Is this why you've been pushing so hard?"

"W-what are you doing?" he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

Your free hand trails down his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against the skin of his bare chest. Satoru shudders beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel his heart racing, see the flush creeping up his neck under the pale moonlight.

"You talk a big game," you murmur. "But can you handle it when someone else takes control?"

Satoru swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Try me," he challenges, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays his nervousness.

You pull back, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile. Slowly, deliberately, you grind your hips against his, eliciting a low moan from Satoru. His free hand moves to grip your waist, but you catch it, pinning both his wrists above his head.

"No,” you chastise. "No touching unless I say so."

Satoru's eyes darken with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're killing me, Twigs," he groans.

"Good," you purr, leaning down to nip his jaw.

You take your time exploring his body with your hands, savoring every gasp and shudder you draw from him as if it’s the first time you’ve touched him. Satoru writhes beneath you, struggling against your grip, desperate for more contact. But you maintain control, setting a torturously slow pace that has him practically begging.

"Please," he whimpers, his usual cockiness completely shattered. "I need you."

You smile against his skin, enjoying this newfound power. You scoff. "I thought you said you could do slow?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow. "That was before I knew how evil you could be."

"Evil?" you chuckle, trailing your fingers down his chest. "I'm barely taunting you. If anything, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Besides, I thought you liked it when I took charge."

Satoru shivers beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I do," he admits, his voice strained. "God, I do."

You smile, a predatory glint in your eyes as you slowly grind against him. The friction draws a low moan from Satoru, his hips bucking up involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your core, your heat against his cock with only two layers of fabric separating him from what he truly wants.

You tsk, pressing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

"Stay still," you command. "Or I'll stop altogether."

With deliberate slowness, you trail your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. Satoru's breathing grows ragged as your hand dips lower, tracing the V of his hips before stopping just short of where he wants – no, needs you most.

"Twigs," he groans, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop teasing."

You laugh, nipping at his collarbone. "But you make it so fun, Satoru."

Your free hand ghosts over the front of his boxers, barely applying pressure. Satoru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but you pull away with a wicked grin.

“I told you I’d stop if you misbehave.”

Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of desire and defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. Slowly, you begin to pull away, but Satoru's words tumble out in a rush.

"Wait!” he gasps, panicked. “I'm sorry, I'll be good. Please, don't stop."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through you. You've never seen Satoru like this - completely at your mercy, his usual bravado stripped away. Even in the dark, his eyes usually glow aquamarine, but right now pools of onyx stare back at you underneath heavy white lashes.

"That's better," you murmur, rewarding him with a slow, sensual kiss. He whines into it, licks into your mouth like he’s begging you to eat him whole.

You take your time with him mapping every dip and curve of his upper body with your lips and tongue. Satoru writhes beneath you, soft whimpers escaping him as you lavish attention on his most sensitive spots.

When you finally free him from his boxers, Satoru lets out a sigh of relief. But instead of giving him what he wants, you continue your slow pace, placing feather-light kisses along his inner thighs. He huffs when you press his thumb against his leaking slit, while you look at him with a grin as you apply pressure.

“You have such a pretty cock, Satoru.”

His face gets even warmer, if that was possible. “Sh-shut up–”

You raise your brows. “What was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes widen aa your mean expression. "N-Nothing! I’m sorry. Just – please," Satoru begs, his voice hoarse. "I need you. I need—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. The kids are sleeping, remember? We wouldn't want to wake them, would we?"

Satoru's breath hitches at the reminder, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan as he watches you spit on his cock, finally wrapping your hand around him. You set a maddeningly slow rhythm, watching with satisfaction as Satoru struggles to keep quiet. Your mouth grazes him, only barely. He needs you around him, completely. His cock is fucking aching for it.

A whine escapes Satoru's throat, his hips jerking upward. "Twigs, please. I can't— I need—"

Cruelly, you cover his mouth with your palm. You have half the mind to gag him. You’re tempted to, really, but you’ve already slipped off your panties and thrown them somewhere across the room.

“Baby—”

“Stop fucking talking,” you hiss, your hand around his throat. He gasps, looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Mouth parted. Lovestruck. “Be good.”

He complies, whimpering softly instead of pleading with useless words. You watch his eyes roll back as your hand moves from his shaft to his tip, your spit lubricating his twitching cock along with the precum collecting at the top.

You savor the power you hold over him, watching his chest heave with each labored breath. Satoru's usual cockiness has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable and needy beneath you. It's intoxicating.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut with the effort of staying quiet. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. You release his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest as you position yourself above him.

"Look at me," you command softly.

Satoru's eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. His hands graze your waist tentatively, smoothing over the soft skin over your ribs underneath the t-shirt (his t-shirt) that clings loosely to your frame.

He can almost feel how wet you are, he swears it. His Six Eyes can see everything from the tremble of your pulse, sensing how much your desires are waiting to jump out of your skin. The wetness of your pink mouth. He feels delirious with want, deluded, maybe, just from the intensity of his senses as he takes in your presence.

He could be hallucinating how intense it all really is. He isn’t sure — he’s too drunk on the fact that you’re in his lap at all, partially bare. Your bare cunt hovering over his cock. Taunting. Fucking tease. If he wanted, he could flip you over and restrain you. Have your hands yanked to your lower back, make you yelp like a slut.

But he doesn’t. He’s already a mess for you, no matter what you intend to do to him. He knows there’s something so awful inside of him that’s waiting to crawl out something only you can coax out.

When you look at him with moonlight reflecting in your pupils, the desire overtakes him. Despite himself, he rises him to meet your mouth, desperate for a kiss or any semblance of one, but your hand tightens around his throat. He moans at the pressure of it and blushes, embarrassed. He whines.

“Ha. Nice try. You’re so fucking eager, huh? Missed me that much?” you taunt. It’s cruel and you know it. You’ve known how much he’s wanted you — you’ve defied it when he’s been too candid about it. And now, while his heart is on his sleeve with your name in the center, you tease him.

He would take you over his knee for it if he wasn’t fucking melting underneath you.

“Of course I missed you,” Satoru grits.

“Oooh, so feisty. You look like an angry dog, you know that?” you sneer.

“Belittle me all you want,” he narrows his eyes, “Just let me — fuck —”

He perks up his head and tries to kiss you but you reject him. He has to stifle a groan. His resolve is crumbling into nothingness.

“Please fuck me,” he gasps. “Or just kiss me. Do anything you want. I just — I don’t care. I need you —”

Satoru writhes against the bedsheets. Grits his teeth, baring his canines like a dog ready to fight. But you’re as gentle as you are evil, able to weaken his efforts just by the slight tilt of your plump mouth. A knowing smirk.

“You need me?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Need you. Only you —”

You spit and he watches the drool cascade down to his aching cock. His eyes widen, mesmerized and choked up as you stroke him. He shudders, body arching towards you at the contact.

“Oh, fuck—” he breathes, unable to form words. Your hand feels better than his own. The warmth of your body above him makes his blood sing.

He pants pathetically as you grin down at him with wolf-teeth. He could cry from your touch alone.

"Relax," you breathe, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "I'll give you what you need."

“Can’t relax — need — ah!” he whimpers. “Please, please —”

“Are you begging?” you taunt, laughing.

“Yes!” he groans.

You hold his gaze as you slowly sink down onto him, savoring the stretch and fullness. A strangled sound escapes him, quickly muffled as he bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

You roll your hips carefully, rising and falling with agonizing slowness. Satoru's hips twitch upwards, seeking more, but you pin them down firmly. Your movements are languid as you relish each tiny gasp and stifled moan you draw from him.

You gradually increase your speed, grinding down harder with each thrust. Satoru's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving. You can feel him getting close, see it in the tension of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

Just as he's about to fall over the edge, you slow to a stop. Satoru lets out a frustrated whine, cut off as you press your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

"Not yet," you murmur against his mouth. "I'm not done with you."

“I’m so — fuck,” he slurs, “So close —”

“That’s too bad. Fucking wait.”

His cock throbs at your tone. Your face is calm, tauntingly so, but your voice is cutting with authority.

“God, if I wasn’t so in love with you right now I’d be giving you the worst spanking you’ve ever—” You cut Satoru off, shoving your fingers in his mouth. His eyes roll back immediately, gagging, and you laugh cruelly.

“Oh, you love that. You little slut.”

He moans at the degradation, bucks his hips up in attempt to meet your core again. His large hands are around your waist, trembling as they press in with a bruising grip. You remove your fingers from his mouth, using both your hands to pry off his hands and pin them next to his head.

“Hey,” you warn, talking to him as if he’s a bad dog. “Told you to be good. Hands up here until I say so, Satoru.”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes, trying not to whine. His hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm the lion heart beating out of his chest while his body is forced into submission by the girl he’s always had power over.

He stills his body despite himself, though his dick still aches in anticipation. He’s trying to be good for you. The best.

You lean over to bite at his nipple and he gasps. The role-reversal was dizzying, particularly because you were using his own tricks against him. He feels like he might lose his mind.

“Stop– stop that–” he rasps.

“Why should I? I know you like it. You like when I play with you.”

“I– I–”

“You’d love it if I just used you, right? You want me so much you’d let me touch you in any way, any time of the day. Am I wrong?” You lift your head to meet his gaze, lifting your brow.

He flushes with embarrassment, stomach flipping at your words. “N-No,” he mumbles.

“That’s what I thought, baby,” you chuckle. Your nails run through his undercut and he sighs in satisfaction, looking at you through wet eyes.

“I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he simpers. “Please, just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good —”

“Oh? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes —”

“Mm. Wanna keep playing with you. Lay your head on the pillow properly for me, Satoru.” He obeys you without question, eyes half-lidded with lust as he awaits further instruction. There’s a stupor in his face, dumb with love. He’d do anything you asked.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, pleased at his obedience – you’ve never seen him so desperate, despite knowing he wasn’t above begging. Even before, you’d give in, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. But this — this was entirely new territory. Satoru Gojo was being reduced to tears.

You climb over to him, cunt above his neck. His eyes are blown out, wet as his mouth.

“You want a taste?”

He nods eagerly, too quickly, too possessed by desire to be embarrassed about it anymore. He wanted you any way he could have you.

You sink down to his mouth and the groan he lets out is louder than you expect.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “Keep it down.”

He whines, lapping at your pussy sloppily. You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble as you try to stay upright, knuckles straining against the top of his headboard. At the same time, he uses the opportunity to squeeze the plushness of your ass – something you’d admonish him for if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh,” you moan out softly, “That’s so good. Just like that, Satoru —”

He moans, his mouth leaking with his own drool and your arousal. It was a treat for him – you never liked sitting on his face for some reason, always blushed when he’d suggest it. But now, he was getting what he wanted. You were throwing him a bone.

Satoru wants desperately to fist his cock, relieve the ache inside him that keeps building when he hears you whimper, but his hands are too preoccupied with touching you everywhere else. Your ass, your waist, the softness of your breasts underneath your t-shirt. His girl in the palm of his hand.

Your nails scratch his scalp, pulling on the strands of his hair as you grind on his face. Smearing yourself all over him. “Close–”

He doubles down on his efforts and all of it makes you see stars – supernovas clashing together in the fuzzy black behind your eyelids. You have to cover your mouth to keep down the sound of your moan.

His hands are squeezing your thighs. You yelp, overstimulated as his mouth latches onto your clit with no intention of letting go despite your orgasm.

“Satoru, no — no more —”

You roll off of him, ass tumbling onto his torso as he holds you upright.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, kissing you hard. You don’t have a chance to breathe before he does it, but you don’t care — your pussy drips in his lap as he maneuvers you straddle him properly, mouth moaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to be full of him.

You push him off you, pinning him to the bed as your cunt swallows his cock. You wince at the stretch after not taking him for so long, but the resistance quickly disappears from how turned on you are. You’re so overly sensitive from your orgasm that his tip hits your g-spot immediately, stimulation to the max as you grind on him at an angle that brings pressure to your insides.

“Holy fuck –” Satoru gasps, hands on your hips in a vice grip.

He’s determined to take back any semblance of control, but he fucking loses it at the feeling of being inside you after months and months of a dry spell. You were better than any of his wet dreams.

He bites his lip in attempt to suppress his whines, hands encouraging the roll of your hips as you grind down on his cock. He loves being used by you, fucked dumb and marvelling at the warmth of your skin on his. He lifts up your t-shirt and you let him pull it off you.

You look down and see puppy-dog eyes gazing at you spilling with tears of pleasure. Angel boy.

You don’t give him a warning when you finish like you have in the past. It crashes into you, a collision of ecstasy. Months of denying him from your bed and your brain made you forget that he was your very best. Your first and perhaps your last.

The thought takes the breath out of your lungs. In a moment of lucidity, you look at Satoru full-on, your lust-filled haze clearing to see him fully in adoration. Tears streaming down his cheeks, love painted all over his face.

He hiccups, whimpering. “Baby, I’m close – fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it! P-Please, can I —”

You shut him up with a kiss. “Come for me, Satoru,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

His eyes widen. He’s about to gasp out a reply but he’s so overwhelmed by your words, the impossible warmth of your cunt sucking him in.

“I love you so much,” you coo, hips gyrating in tandem with his hands guiding you. “You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers.

“Then go ahead and come for me, baby.”

“Ah – fuck –” Satoru feels his mouth part involuntarily, letting out the ghost of a moan as he chokes up. The ache in his body bursts into sparks, his cum filling you up to the brim as his orgasm plundered through him.

His legs are shaking.

His comedown is all erratic breaths, small gasps as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed. He whimpers as he lifts his head to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your warm flesh before you allow him to kiss you tenderly.

He mumbles something against your mouth that you don’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You attempt to pull away and he whines like a child. You kiss him again and he deepens it, fingers gathering the hair at your nape.

“Letsgetmarried,” he mutters into your jaw.

“What?”

You pull back, staring at him with an amused grin. “Did you just propose to me?”

Satoru stares back at you, his snowy hair sticking out haphazardly. “Maybe. Yes. Like, yes, but also no.”

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he slurs. “You fucked me too good. I wanna buy you a house.”

You burst into laughter and pet his head. “You don’t need to do that. You already pay my rent.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. Cradles you to his chest, which you don’t protest.

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

Silence fills the room, save for your soft breathing. You clear your throat and stretch your limbs.

“You’re not actually asking me to marry you, right?” you ask warily.

“Why not? We already have kids.”

“They are not our kids —”

“They may as well be!”

“Satoru,” you snap.

“Okay, okay. I’m half-joking. But I’m serious when I say that I… I think you’re it for me,” Satoru mumbles. “Don’t want anyone else. Ever.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening. “Me neither.”

You mean it. You suppose that the months without him were a lesson in patience, in self-preservation. You can’t deny that he was your missing piece despite it all, despite the hell you went through with him.

Satoru has always held a slice of heaven – it clung to him, that divinity. You are the only thing that keeps him from dimming.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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stormz369 · 3 days ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 29

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: poor parenting discussed, Talia may or may not be ooc (if she is, fear not! I have received 2 separate permits, and have been told I may do as I please!), mild cussing, fluff, angst, a smidge of fear

wc: 2.4k

Chapter Selection

“... Babe, I know you've described Damian's mom as a ‘real piece of work', and Bruce told me a bit about how she raised him before he came here, so I do know she's not what I would consider a good mom. But that doesn’t explain why her visiting means we can't go to the manor?”

Jason sighed, setting his phone aside. He cupped my cheeks, purring my name; “darling, light of my life. I mean this in the best possible way. … You cannot be trusted to keep your cool with her.”

I blinked several times, frowning; “what on earth does that mean?!”

“You are … passionate. You love fiercely, and I love that about you. Seriously, I don't want you to think this is a bad thing; the way you love us makes me feel so safe, and I know Damian agrees. But … you've already yelled at one of his teachers, his principal, and Bruce. You will not be able to hold your tongue with Talia. And holding our tongues is necessary with her. … If she believes living at Wayne Manor is making Damian weak, she will take him away 'for his own good’.”

“How on earth would I make her think he's weak?”

“Talia is the type of person who believes attachment makes us weak. The things we care about can be used against us, the people we love are the people who will hurt us the worst. She believes it's better to be feared than loved. She's why he's so good at masking his feelings. Why he doesn't always understand his own feelings; his early education did not include processing and recognizing emotions. But she's … incredibly astute. She's analytical, and brilliant, and terrifying, and … she's his mother; she taught him everything he knew before he came here, and now she can read him without trying, even when he tries to hide his feelings from her. So if she sees how you two are around each other, even if neither of you so much as acknowledge each other, she'll know how you feel about him, and how he feels about you, and we'll probably never see him again.”

I growled softly, clenching my jaw. “… Bitch…”

He chuckled softly, holding me close. “I know. Which is why we have to keep our distance. … She doesn't visit often, and when she does she never stays long. She'll probably be here for a week at most, stalking the kid to make sure he's not slipping, and once she's gone I’m certain he'll show up on our doorstep.”

I sighed softly. “... Ok. … If you see him between now and then you have to find a way to tell him that I’m missing him and I love him very much, ok?”

He groaned softly. “Aw, come on, babe. The Red Hood can't lean in to give Robin a hug during patrol!”

“I'm not asking you to hug him - don't hug him! Just make sure he knows that I'm thinking about him. Please?” I pouted, snuggling against his chest; “for me?”

“Ughhhhh …. Fine. For you.” He sighed, running his fingers down my spine.

I grinned, snuggling against him happily. “Thank you~”

“Yeah, yeah …” he chuckled, kissing my temple. We sat on the floor, curled against each other, for a long while before Jason finally moved us to the bed to get some sleep.

Jay quickly started moving his things into my place. I gave him my spare key and made space in the closet. When I got home from the next girls night some of his clothes were hung up next to mine. The next day there was one of those cheap plastic dressers next to my nice wood one, and sitting on top of it was Jason's cologne, a book, and his deodorant. His shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel joined mine on the side of the tub. We bought more towels and a new set of sheets.

All these little changes made me giddy; his things slotting into position next to mine just felt so right, and I would get used to the weapons that were suddenly stashed all over the apartment. We had a thorough gun-safety presentation that night, and he showed me where everything was. On the next gym-and-range day, we finished training with an exercise where he would, entirely at random, shout “intruder” and time how long it took me to have a weapon trained on him. My best time was two seconds; he had expected me to go for the gun in the drawer, not the knife block in front of me on the counter.

Soon I started packing Jason a lunch for patrol. Mostly because I wanted to take care of him in some way, but a part of me also hoped he'd run into Damian out there and share the cookies I made. He rolled his eyes at me the first time I pressed the insulated bag into his hands, but accepted it anyway. I sent him off with a kiss and a wave, and settled in to wait for him to come home. Hours later I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up it was 4:30am and he was unlocking the door. The exhaustion rolled off him as I pulled him into a tight hug, and we collapsed into bed. When I woke up for real around 11 the lunch bag was sitting on the kitchen counter, empty and clean. I grinned, filling it again that night, and Jason didn't offer so much as a token resistance before taking it.

A week and a half passed before he ran into Robin on patrol. Jason assured me that he had passed along my message, Damian was perfectly healthy and definitely missed me too, and he had even been forced to share the brownies I'd packed. I beamed, kissing his cheek in thanks, and we curled up in bed.

The next day, we started looking at houses online. We obviously only looked at what was available in Red Hood's territory; on top of him wanting to stay close to his patrol area, it was on the opposite side of Gotham from the well manicured lawns of Bruce's gated neighborhood and thus the perfect place to set up my clinic. Whether our home or the cave was closer, the bats would never be more than 30 minutes away from medical care. Jason took note of a few addresses he wanted to go check out, promising to swing by during patrol to see if they were securable.

“No reason to arrange a showing if I'm not gonna be able to make it safe for you.” He kissed my forehead, wrapping an arm around my waist. I chuckled softly, leaning against him. I was pretty sure he was the one who would need the most security measures to feel safe in our new home, but I wasn't going to argue. The way he lit up when providing for me was too precious a sight; if I complimented his cooking he turned pink and mumbled it was nothing. I thanked him for switching over the laundry and he sighed happily, nodding. When he saw progress in my training he beamed. And when he came home safe in the early hours of the morning, all anxiety and stress melted off of him the second he was in my arms.

In a lot of ways, life was starting to feel incredibly normal. We were like the picturesque 1950’s family I'd been taught to simultaneously idealize and vilify; until the spring semester at GU started I was free to spend my time how I pleased, and with Damian's mother still in town, that mostly meant finding new ways to feel like I was giving Jason as much as he gave me. I made sure he always had enough treats in his lunches, in case Damian was out too. When Jason returned from patrol I inspected him for any small wounds my first aid knowledge would fix. I doted on him every chance I got, and he doted right back. It was wonderful, truly.

But when he left for work, and I was alone with my thoughts, the stillness in the apartment quickly became overwhelming. At first Damian's sudden absence from my life had been annoying but acceptable. But after the first couple days it started to feel like a rabid dog was using my heart as a chew toy. Why was his mother still here? What was she doing? What was she saying to him? He had been making such incredible progress; he smiled more, he initiated hugs, he accepted them more readily. He was painstakingly tearing down the walls around his feelings brick by brick. It was a difficult process, and he was being so brave, I couldn’t be prouder! But what was she doing to those walls while I was kept away?

It had been two weeks, and I was starting to wonder if she planned to stay for the holidays. I didn't want her to stay for the holidays! I had plans, and I couldn't do my plans if I couldn't go to the manor! Being barred from Wayne Manor meant no Damian, but it also meant no Steph, no Dick, no Tim, none of them! We had decided it would be best if it looked like I was just Jason's girlfriend; as far as Talia knew he was indifferent to the family, if that. So I had to appear indifferent at best as well.

I was still able to go to girls' night, because that was being held at Barbara's home. There was no reason to believe Talia would know or care about that. But I missed training with everyone. I missed finding new ways to tease Tim. I missed Dick's good natured laugh. God help me, I even missed Bruce! He pissed me off, but he was still kind to me for the most part, and he was a good trainer. I wanted things to get better with him, for Jason and Damian's sake. I wanted him to be the dad they deserved, the dad Dick believed he wanted to be. I was pretty sure he had it locked away inside him, he just needed … something. What exactly that was, I wasn't sure; maybe to see how happy Damian was with simple childhood experiences? Or to see the peace on Jason's face when we cooked together. Or maybe he needed to experience some of that for himself. But whatever he needed, I was sure he wasn't getting it, and until Talia al Ghul left I wouldn't find out.

I tried to busy myself with crafting and baking. With the winter holidays on the horizon I really should have started on presents around Halloween, especially considering how many people I was making gifts for this year. But better late than never, so I used the time alone to get started. Jason would be gone for hours, I had plenty of time. Or, I would have if not for the knock at the door.

I jumped, looking up incredulously. I wasn't expecting guests, especially this late at night. Anyone I wanted here had my phone number, and no one had called or texted. I grabbed my phone, just to be sure, but I was right - no unread texts, no missed calls. A moment later there was another knock, this one more insistent.

I grabbed one of Jason's guns and my phone, ready to call him with the push of a button, and looked through the peephole. A beautiful woman was standing at the door, an unamused look on her face. Her clothes were too elegant for this neighborhood, she definitely didn't just wander to the wrong door. I sighed, a sinking sensation in my gut as I cracked the door open just enough to reveal my face.

“... Hello?” I frowned.

She raised an eyebrow; “... is hospitality well and truly dead in this country, or are you going to invite me in?”

“At eleven o'clock at night, in this neighborhood, with an uninvited stranger on the doorstep? It’s dead. Now, would you like to introduce yourself, or should I shut the door?”

She tsked; “I am Talia al Ghul. Why have you been spending time with my son?”

I silently cursed, but forced my expression to remain bored and distrusting; “... Your son?”

“Damian …” she sighed, “I believe he's using his father's last name now, Wayne.”

“Oh, Jason's brother? He's not here.”

“Obviously not.” She snapped; “are you going to let me in?”

“Why? He's not here.”

“I know he's not here! I want to know why you've been spending so much time with him.”

“I dunno about ‘much’. I've met him.”

“You are his emergency contact at that paltry excuse for a school he is enrolled at.”

“Oh, is that what you're so upset about?” I shrugged; “'m just doing a favor for Jay by doing a favor for his dad.”

“... Elaborate.”

“Mr. Wayne is a busy man, I am not a terribly busy woman. Emergency contact at the school was a simple enough thing to take off his plate. Kinda thing that seems bigger than it actually is. He now associates me with his life being ever so slightly easier. He already associates me with Jason, ergo he now associates Jason with his life being slightly easier.”

She frowned deeply. “You are emotionally manipulating Bruce into … what, being kinder to his second son?”

“... I suppose so, yeah. Didn't really think about it that way. 'Manipulation' makes it sound so much more convoluted and … effort-full. All I did was sign a piece of paper.”

Her expression morphed into a small smirk; a very Damian-like expression. “... And you are Jason's … girlfriend?”

“Yep.”

“... Hm.” She nodded once. “... Very well then.”

“... Okaaay. … So are you like, sticking around or somethin'? Do you want to be the emergency contact now?”

“No, there is no reason for that…” she pursed her lips; “establishment to have my phone number.”

I shrugged again. “Alright… Anything else?”

“... No, I suppose not.”

“Kay. I'm goin' back to bed then. Goodbye.” I shut the door, locking it, and looked through the peephole again. She glowered at my door, seemingly considering something, and finally left.

I watched her walk away until she was entirely out of sight, then slowly retreated to the couch to text Jay.

Me: Everything is fine, do not panic; but I just met Talia. 11:20pm

Jason: I'm coming home. Don't open the door to anyone. 11:35pm

Me: 👍❤️ 11:36pm

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11

#fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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sagesturns · 2 days ago

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Cozy In The Chaos

Summary: During a sudden rainstorm, you and Chris build a cozy pillow fort, enjoying each other's company and the quiet comfort of the moment. Laughter, playful teasing, and shared warmth turn the fort into a peaceful escape from the storm outside.

contains: fluff!

The rain came without warning. One moment the sky seemed cloudy and the next the clouds parted and water began to fall like a waterfall. The windows rattled as the wind roared and one was almost feeling a little confined within the house. But, in all honesty, one did not feel bothered. The storm was, in a way, soothing. The way everything felt like it moved at a much slower pace outside.

You stood at the window and peered out for a pause as you enjoyed the rain. The city out there was unrecognizable behind the glass with monotonous colors and you couldn’t help but contemplate about the span for this weather for quite a long time.

Then, you heard a fabric shift followed by a light thump sound somewhere behind you.

You turned just in time to see Chris toss a pillow your way, his grin already spreading as he motioned to the couch. “Pillow fort time?”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow as you caught the pillow in your hands. “A pillow fort?”

Chris leaned against the back of the couch, looking utterly proud of himself. "Yeah! Why not? We've got time. The storm won't let us go anywhere."

You smiled. Warmth flooded your heart at the thought. It was silly, but those very spur-of-the-moment things were exactly the sort of fun you had with him—distinct moments that made the ordinary days remarkable.

"Okay," you said, considerately tossing the pillow on the floor. "You build it, I supervise."

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Supervise? You mean, ‘help,’ right?” You chuckled. “Exactly.”

You both had started gathering piles of pillows from the couch, blankets from the bed, and anything else that could be used to assemble your kingdom. Chris surprisingly proved to be fast about it, draping the blankets over the couch and chairs, forming walls and a delicately constructed roof, while you tossed pillows and blankets wherever you could to make the place as cozy as you could.

The process was a mix of laughter and a little chaos. Every time Chris tried to stack the pillows, the whole structure would topple, and he’d groan in mock frustration, sending you into fits of giggles.

“You are terrible at this,” you teased, adjusting one of the blankets that had fallen askew.

Chris raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Maybe I need a little help. But I’m good at making this fun.”

You crawled into the partially completed fort and threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. "Okay; I’ll let you off the hook just this once!". “Lucky me,” he said with a wink, following you into the fort.

Inside, the space was snug. The walls of blankets and pillows made the living room feel like a whole new world—one that was warm and private, cut off from the storm outside. You both settled in, your shoulders brushing as you lay back against the cushions. The sound of the rain still filled the room, but now it felt like background noise to your own little haven.

You shifted slightly, propping your head up on a pillow, your gaze drifting to the window again, watching the rain pound against the glass. The world outside seemed so far away in this little space with Chris. You felt the weight of the day lifting, the kind of peace that only came from being here, in this quiet, shared moment.

After a few seconds, you felt Chris shift beside you. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his presence so clearly, his body just a little too close to not notice. You glanced at him, and your eyes locked for a moment. His gaze softened and the air between you held still for a beat—just the two of you in this cozy fort, all surrounded by blankets and the sound of the rain.

He held your gaze and, for a brief moment, neither of you spoke. Something inside you built, something unsaid. Slowly, Chris began to lean in, still gazing into his own. The kiss was soft and lingering, gentle at first, warm, and then it grew tender, slow, drawing out until you both parted breathless.

Chris smiled tenderly as he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed down at you. "You are so gorgeous," he whispered, hardly audible above the sound of the storm.

Those words make your heart flutter. Without a second thought, you leaned in again and kissed him, this time with quiet urgency. A soft laugh escaped you and you pressed your forehead against his when you finally pulled away.

"I think we're both getting a bit too comfortable in this fort," you said with a teasing smile. Chris chuckled, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you closer. “Can’t say I’m complaining.”

You smiled, sinking into his embrace, your body settling against his as you both laid back onto the pillows. The rain outside continued, but here, in your blanket fort, everything felt soft and warm. The comfort of sharing each other's company in quietude was what kept the rush of the moment away and unworried.

A few moments passed, peaceful and still, before Chris spoke up again, this time his voice quieter, almost sleepy.

"So, after this... we could make a couple of hot chocolates. With lots of marshmallows. Maybe even a little whipped cream.”You smiled, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath you. “Sounds perfect.”

He paused, then added, “And we bring the hot chocolate back to the fort. No rules. We’re fort royalty now.”

You giggled softly at his playful tone, feeling completely at ease, tucked into his arms. “Deal. But we have to pick a movie first. Something really cheesy. Like, so cheesy it’ll make us cringe.”

Chris laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got it. As long as it's kind of cheesy.”You stayed like that for a while, the two of you slowly drifting, the comfort of the moment wrapping around you.

Eventually, Chris broke the silence with a quiet, teasing tone, “Alright, but I have one rule for this fort: If you spill that hot chocolate on me, you’re sleeping outside the fort.”

You laughed, your body shaking with the sound of it. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep my distance from your lap then.”

“Good,” Chris said with mock seriousness. “We don’t want to mess up our fort’s reputation. It’s too important.”

The light teasing, the warmth of his arms, and the shared laughter felt like everything you needed. With the storm still raging outside, you both settled deeper into the blankets, slowly drifting off to sleep, wrapped in the cozy haven you’d created—together.

word count: 1.5k (1,574)

tags: @sweetshuga

a/n: first Chris fluff, finally deserve it after writing all of his fic angst 😭. hope you enjoyyy. tysm for all the love and followers I've been gaining. it means the worlddd. <3.

@sagesturns

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grapejuicestyless · 2 days ago

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What If I Don’t Know?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: In an alternate universe where the pogues gave up the hunt after their win with El Dorado, Y/n breaks free of the island dream and runs off the college. Only to find that maybe, being away isn’t what she wanted after all.

My boots danced across the thick yellow lines on the deep black pavement. The traffic lights were flickering yellow, reflecting off of the void and rippling across the building puddles by the clogged sewer drains. An intersection at midnight, no dead stop and no definite go. Just the trust that the other cars wouldn’t blow past the warning signs. The trust that metal was made to bend, to rupture to save a life.

I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t afford one, and I never needed one. Everything I ever wanted was always just a few steps away. Laughter used to echo through the halls and cold rings hit the doors repeatedly. You grow used to people that way. Used to the sound of their footsteps, of their breath. You know who’s on the other side of the door always when you memorize the pattern of their movement.

JJ promised me once that we’d make one. We would run our way down to the junkyard and pick out old parts of cars and Frankenstein them together into a piece of shit that would run like a dream.

That was something I missed. The smell of gasoline. Maybe that’s why I stumbled down through the college town, balancing between the thin stripe of black between yellow and twirling in the center where road met road. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. The image of JJ bent under the hood of a truck. The same Ford that sat broken in the front yard for years, the sound of metal twisting and the breathy grunts with each violent twist of the wrench. It would run like new one day, he swore. I never doubted him, and I still don’t. One day, we’ll run down to that junkyard, a graveyard for cars, and we’ll find that missing piece.

Rain dripped from the bridge of my nose, falling on my soaked shoes and flattening out my fuzzy socks. Everything up North was colder. Maybe it was because of how bitter people were. The semi-warm summers and the sweltering months of autumn, only for the two week beach bliss to be swiftly replaced with a harsh winter that didn’t let up until the next summer. Cold nipped at my nose. I felt bitter the longer I was here, which was weird because when I was sixteen, I could have sworn this place was home.

Then again, I had never really been anywhere long enough to know what home really was. Everywhere I went became rushed by the sweet adventure that was chasing riches. Maybe it was the idea of settling down that intrigued me. To be sat in one place for a while and to slow down, to increase my chances of living through my twenties without some pirate knocking on my front door, a gun to my head. But this wasn’t home, this wasn’t settling. This was restlessness mixed with a deep urge to find something like home. An emptiness emotionally that I just couldn’t understand.

Like a dog chasing its own tail, I felt stupid, and I myst have looked drunk dancing among the silence of my college town. I should have been happy, this should have been home. I got out, I got what Kiara always dreamed of, I sought out a higher education, a dream that Pope had thrown away. My record was clean and my future had meaning. I should have been ecstatic to receive this opportunity, after all the grief and death and scandals of my childhood, a stage in my life that was stripped away by all the realities that unraveled with each new treasure found. But, I wasn’t. Even then, sick, dirty, and cold, I wasn’t happier than then now.

I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. In the dormitories, in the bathrooms, in the halls. It’s me, or, a version of that girl. She has my hair, and we share the same eyes, same curve of our lips too. But she’s hollowed out, gutted, and so indescribably not me. Different, not greater, but worse. I think of packing my bags quite often. Going quietly and without a fuss. To swallow my pride and withdraw my debt I would surely acquire if I stay any longer here at some institution I knew I couldn’t afford the moment I sent in my letter.

My roommate would be disappointed, but she’d move on. She doesn’t know me, she understands the concept of me, but she doesn’t know me. She’s nice enough, keeps her room clean, which inspires me to do the same. She brushes her hair regularly, almost obsessively, and is really pretty. We get along fine. We are friends, to a degree, but we are sure to find other roommates and never speak again. Still, I wonder if she would be mad if I left without telling her.

JJ was mad when I told him. He didn’t like the idea of abandonment. Though, I promised I would return in just a few months, and then a week after, and a few months later. It would feel like I am forever home, only with short intermissions where he gets to enjoy all the things that the island could offer with the others to hang off of his arm. He didn’t even indulge in that idea. He thought even an hour apart was too much.

I promised him it wasn’t abandonment, and swore to call him every night. I do. Sometimes I call him in the morning, and I almost always call him in the afternoon. I like to hear his voice. It sounds like home, it makes me feel warm. I forget about the redness of my nose and the tingling numbness in my fingers. He sounds like the waves crashing against the shore and the sound of wet spaghetti hitting the walls during dinners at midnight. He is laughter and the summer sun, the swells that ripple in mid July and the best seashells on the beach.

My knees bend beneath me, kneeling against the wet cement beneath me. I feel the wetness soaking through my jeans. It’s cold. Like it could be snow if it were a degree cooler. I kneel in the middle of the intersection, and I look up at the sky. It’s dark. I check my watch, it’s nearly morning again. The yellow light flickers against my skin, illuminating my face and leaving me in pitch black again. Everyone is sleeping in my college town. All is quiet.

My neck stretches out, upwards and I open my mouth. My tongue touches my chin, and I can taste the dirt in the droplets that swallow down my throat. My eyes are closed, because I have nothing to fear but loneliness itself, and whether my eyes are opened or closed, the feeling will still be there, and the fact will be too. I am alone, in this journey. I have nothing friends to lean on and no campfire to light. Nobody here knows about the existence of Kildare, of the marsh, and the restaurants that line the cut. They wouldn’t care, they don’t care about an environment they are not accustomed to. They only have so much space to consume what they need to know. To drink up their studies, they have no space for empty thoughts of a life they never lived.

I have my old phone in my pocket. The keypad is burned into the screen because it’s all I use it for now. My life revolves around nothing but the stress of failure and the relief of my best friend’s voice at the end of the day to ease my stress. The truth is, I understand the void in my passion now better than I did when it first appeared, the black hole that seemed to swallow up all my excitement for the new beginnings. I understand the bitter feelings I have for my new house, because I refuse to call this place home. Home is not a place you reside, though, familiarity breeds contempt, home is a connection to the people who reside in respect of you, who stand by you. So though the people I surround myself with here are perfectly friendly, they are not my friends, and they will never come close to the feeling of home I feel with them.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep. He has that rasp men get early in the morning, a rich deepness I rarely hear anymore, but something I once bathed in with his arms wrapped around me through the night.

Theres a soft rhythmic ticking that comes with the flickers of light, and the soft patters of rain drenching the pavement create solemn acoustics around me.

“Hey, JJ.” It comes out in one breath. A sigh of relief that he even heard the buzzing of his phone in his usual dead-to-the-world like sleep cycle. My fingers slip on my phone case and I have to catch it, the rustling on my end of the line echoing back through the speaks to me. I can hear the playback of my breathing through a short delay that spans over a vast distance.

“Is everything alright? It’s…three in the morning. I don’t know a lot about time zones but, I think we’re both on the east coast.”

“No, it’s the same time zone, Jay.” My cheeks already hurt with how big my smile was. He just had that effect on me. His goofy, unknowing attitude always managed to make me laugh, especially because deep down I knew he was a lot smarter than he led on to be. When he let that mask slip to reveal his true self, it was always a wonder the ideas that spewed from his lips. He had one of the greatest minds I’d ever known, only to be undermined by the tragedy of his last name.

“Is it a crime to miss my best friend?” My eyes found a home on my wet knees, and my free hand began to play around in the water. Dragging my nail through the small puddle forming around my body.

“At this time? Yes.” He chuckled softly. “Somethings up, what are you speculating? Whats the word? Ovulating? Because I can’t help you with that.” He made himself clear, smiling through his sentences.

“What? No! Why would I call you of all people if I was photo-ovulating?” I corrected myself with a laugh.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. I happen to be irresistible.” JJ defended himself with a teasing tone. Our conversation was light like it always was, even though my homesickness ran deep, and the sadness I felt was heavy, he made it feel like even the rain pouring down around the city I lived in was letting up.

“Lord knows John B’s walls are too thin for me to not have some kind of clue.” I snickered, pushing back the wet strands of hair that had fallen down upon my face.

Rain clung to me in every crevice, drenching me completely until I felt nothing but cold wash over me. It was a shower I didn’t need, one that did not cleanse me but instead poisoned me with the reminder that this was reality, I was miles away from the voice that was soothing my hearts ache momentarily. I would mull over it later.

“Nah, you got off on that shit.”

“Don’t be a pig, I’ll hang up.” I threatened half-heartedly. We both knew I never would. I could never cut the calls first, so the responsibility fell to JJ, who suffered the same inability to let go. Our calls usually stretched for hours, and the voicemails left in my inbox from the few times I would pass out with my cheek pressed firmly against some dusty book in the library took up all remaining storage in my phone. Right along side the folders of photos of us that collected by the thousands.

“So why’d you call?” He asked finally. I had no real answer. I used up all my excuses. Could he check for a sweater I left behind, the very same one I had on, or if he could just catch me up on what the others were up to. As if I didn’t call to hear all their stories daily, hourly if possible. What was I to tell him? What excuse could serve as something plausible without bearing a burden on his wide shoulders.

“You’re my best friend. I love you, I don’t need a reason.”

“You always have a reason.” He argued softly.

“Well, tonight I don’t.” I hummed. He hummed too, and silence filled the line.

The homely yellow flicked was accompanied by the blinding lights that came in pairs, growing brighter and wider with each passing second. Like a deer, I stood quickly, tall in my path but frozen in fear. I couldn’t meet the eyes of the man behind the wheel, recklessly racing across the intersection with no caution. Yellow meant slow, yet in the night, it only called for feet hitting the floor.

Puddles splashed violently, wheels screeching against the wet cement, leaving trails of where wet met soaked. I could see the distance between the wheels, I could lay my chest against the ground and measure it with my wingspan. The car swerved, laying down on the horn until the sound sputtered away into the distance, and nothing but the soft ticking of the lights and the sound of rain smacking the pavement filled the silence of the line again.

“Are you outside?” JJ asked finally. The sound of sheets crinkling and shuffling of legs against the mattress told me the loud alarm had stirred him from his relaxed state. I nodded at first, forgetting he couldn’t see me, and then I cleared my throat.

“I’m standing in an intersection.” I confessed quietly.

“Why?”

To clear my mind, to escape everything that was bothering me. To find peace with the silence, to try and find comfort in a home that wasn’t mine. There were a lot of minor reasons. The smell of gasoline was high on the list. I rationalized a lot of reasons in my head. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. Still, my gut wouldn’t settle.

I had left home to find something good for myself, to do myself the favor I always promised myself I would if I ever had the chance. But now, now that my feet had carried me to a place that was usually bustling with life, life that felt dull compared to even the most calm days on the island, I felt like I could never go back. A chance, a life, a future that I craved, I was throwing away because my feet refused to lift from the ground until I was sure I would only take my next steps home.

“I miss you.”

My answer was clear. It was true. I missed the waves, I missed the concrete roads freshly paved down in figure eight and how they met the old dirt roads of the cut. I missed John B’s chicken coop, though the chickens were long gone. I missed the dying tree carved with his name, and the rusted latch on the chateau’s porch door that left a yellow stain in the crinkles of my palm. But more than anything, I missed being no more than a breath away from JJ Maybank.

“Come pick me up?” I asked with uncertainty. Not because I even doubted for a moment that JJ wouldn’t come running to me if I even for a moment doubted where I stood, but because the morning was still young and tropical paradise was far away from the whistling winds of the North. Ferries only ran during certain hours, and money was hard to come by, even when we scrape together our pennies. Thats what happens when you drink up your success, you’re left with the repercussions. So, even if he did catch the boat, where would he get a ride from? How much more would it cost to bring the Twinkie alongside hime and ride it all the way to the hills where the colleges welcome signs were illuminated by colored lights, shining in school colors and pride.

He let out a stifled breath. He was choking on emotion I couldn’t read over the phone.

“I’ll be there, yeah.” He promised.

“Okay…I’ll go pack.” I said, suddenly and awkwardly. Yes, I dreamed of this day, kissing everything goodbye and running back to my roots, but now it was real. I could hear JJ slipping on his boots already. Why waste this chance?

“Pack?” He questioned.

“I’m leaving for good, Jay. I know I tell you that this is great and all, but I hate it here. This isn’t…this isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s not what I want.”

“So, you’re coming home?” He asks even though my answer has always been obvious.

“Yes.”

The line falls quiet again. I can hear the shuffling of his feet quickening against the rotting wood floors of the old Maybank property. A broken home flipped into something good. We share a bed there, I imagine he’s already grieving the loss of his starfish sleep position now that he’ll be bound to the same mattress as me again.

“I’ll be there soon.” The line falls dead.

Water splashes around me. If I wasn’t already soaked, I would be now. I can see why John B loved having a car so much now. The cold was fine at first when it was numbing, but now that I had feeling back in my chest, it was too much for me. My feet hit the pavement in harsh slapping movements, I pump my arms for some kind of friction against the wind. My lungs burn, they taste metallic. I want to wheeze and stop running, but I don’t think I could if I tried. I should feel embarrassed how quickly I up and left the place I was once stuck in, how I turned on my heels to run far away. But I’m not. I feel nothing, actually. Nothing but cold, determination, excitement. I have the energy of a child. I am an olympic runner, I have the right motivation. Get the fuck out of here, run myself right into JJ’s arms. I pray I don’t wake my roommate up when I reach my room.

The room is empty when I get there. I open the door so slowly, not even the rusted hinges make a sound. The carpet groans under my weight, even on my highest tip-toes. But the beds are empty and neatly made like they were left this morning. Rains pelts the windows. Theres a fan running. It’s my fan. I can’t sleep in the heat, not even in the winter. My bedding consists of borrowed blankets that I buried myself in, subconsciously trying to suffocate away the homesick feelings.

I barely had any clothes to pack, anything to throw into my duffle bag and my old backpack that was once Kiara’s. I never really got around to unpacking anyway, because there was so little to fill the bags I brought. Looking back on every decision I made before even stepping foot on campus, I should have known I would never stay. This was merely a vacation from hell. I don’t get the privilege to relax, I am worked and forced to prove myself over and over again among my peers who will never know me. I can’t wait to go somewhere where I am known again.

Somewhere along the way, I begin to collect up the posters on my walls. I rip them down hazardously, crumpling them and leaving them in the empty trashcan. It’s empty because there’s nothing I’ve touched in this room. Not the books, or the pens. I have a singular pencil up on my desk that’s much shorter than it once was, only half of its once lengthy size, and a nearly full set of flashcards. I don’t need the memory of this place to follow me. I consider it a favor to my roommate. To gift her with all the supplies she will ever need. She is nice enough, and a lot smarter than me. She’s sitting here on a full ride, though, the collar of her shirt says she could afford it without a penny. I convince myself she deserves it even though I do not know her.

I check my phone repeatedly, and I sit on the bench under the old overhang by my dorms. I stay out of the rain, I stay near the warmth and huddle up. I feel anxious waiting for him. It’s only been a few hours. I swept over the room for the few things I did want to keep. Like one of JJ’s bracelets, though it never even left my wrist. Or the soap I used in the shower. It was brand new, I had just bought a new one. I wait for his call. I wait for the familiar honking of the rusted horn. I wait, and wait as the sun rises. Time ticks by. I am impatient, I wasn’t bred this way, but good things have made me this way. I cannot wait.

“Popes probably gonna kill me.” I mumbled softly.

The car was warm, but my hands still lingered with the outsides touch. I sat on that bench for hours waiting for him. I saw people rise from their beds and lean out the window, taking in the smell of the dewey morning. A few gave me puzzled glances. A drenched girl, dripping down on the bench, wetting everything she touched.

But then, he came. I could see the rusted van before he even put it in park. Just between the brick lined buildings and the paths decorated in dying shrubbery. There was a small gap between the campus lawn and the visitors parking lot. A small slice of the outside world creeping into the sheltered space that was college.

I ran. I ran faster than I ever had in my life. Faster than when I used to race for desert back when Big John used to ruffle my hair and let me sleep over if I wanted, faster than when Ward held a gun to my head and made me pray for some kind of miracle. I ran until my feet couldn’t keep up, and I fell into JJ with a gasp.

He held me back, lifting my feet from the ground they stood on. I swore I heard him mumble something sappy under his breath, but he quickly shrugged it away when he saw the look in my eyes. I never felt love until I felt the desperation in the way he wrapped his arms around me. The way he squeezed the air from my lungs and only let me breathe when he was sure that the feeling between his elbows and his chest was really real, until he knew that this was for good.

He had slung my bags into the back seat and laughed as he told me to get in the Twinkie. When he started driving, he played the old CD we burned together in middle school filled with soft rock and Bob Marley. Occasionally, a song I had written into the playlist without him knowing would play. He always acted angry that I’d done that, but his fingers tapped the wheel and he couldn’t help but hum along. He would never admit to liking trashy pop songs, but the pink on his cheeks gave him away.

When the CD was spun to an end, we debated playing it again. We fell into silence, into the comfort of company. We both took the time to process the fact that this was real now, this was the decision I had decided to make. The thoughts that ran through my mind, what if I took off? What if I packed my bags, what if we moved back home? Let’s adventure down the coast, let’s live our youthful dreams that are unrealistic. Let’s make a home. They were real now, in this car, in him. We sat comfortably knowing that there was no limit on our company now, no restrictions on how much time there was left to borrow.

My socks tapped against the dashboard, my toes tracing the outline of the stickers scattered along the interior. Wet residue was left over, soggy folds gathered at my ankles. My body folded into itself slightly. I let the warn air from the dusty vents dance across my skin. Goosebumps faded like the sinking feeling in my gut. The smell of gasoline filled my nose once more, the smell of his deodorant reminded me that he was close.

“No doubt about it. Don’t know how you’re gonna talk your way out of this one.” JJ sighed contently.

“Well, you’re pretty good at sweet talking.” I buttered him up. Compliments were his weakness, I knew it all too well.

“I love you, but no.” JJ laughed.

“What! Oh, come on, please!”

My hands wrapped around his right bicep. My chin sat perched on his shoulder, batting my eyelashes at him and tickling the peach fuzz on his jaw that he had missed while shaving. I wanted to rub my palm over it, tease him for it with a smile. He had a toothy grin that I could see reflecting back in the rearview mirror.

“I get shit done, but I’m not a miracle worker, ‘kay?” He lifted his arm out of my grasp reluctantly, waving his finger to make his point.

“I thought Papa J was a miracle worker?” I teased with a raised brow. My arms crossed over my chest with a huff. My back fell gently against door. I turned to face him, a pout on my face and lines between my furrowed brows.

JJ let out a breathy laugh, his resolve quickly breaking at my endless begging. He had soft spots and I knew just where to aim.

“No, no! Don’t use my ego against me!” He laughed. I held my stomach this time, trying to keep my ribs together while I struggled to contain the fits of giggles bubbling up my throat and fighting past my lips. If love was a sanctuary, I was certain I had both feet in it. If it was a fire, I was burning up, and if it was the waves, they had crashed down relentlessly against my shivering body, bringing relief with each blow.

I bit the inside of my cheek and chewed at the skin. Laughter faded into even breathing, and my limbs curled up against the wrinkling fabric of the passenger seat. It had just barely started to rain again, a soft pattern of droplets hitting the windshield every so often. The closer we got to the dock, the more it lightened up. Though, the storm came in waves in the shape of the clouds that covered the blue skies. With each opening with sun peaking through, the tapping on glass stopped. When the grey swallowed us whole, it resumed. I didn’t mind it again. Not for the reasons that I wallowed in just hours ago, not to seek comfort in my homesick nature that cane purely from the soul of a homebody. But this time, because the swelling my my heart made me want to pull over to the side of the highway and spin around until my half-dried socks were coated in mud and my skin didn’t recall what the dryness felt like.

“Can I tell you something?” I murmured, my eyes locked in to the passing view that was the trees speeding past the windows.

“Yeah.” JJ hummed.

“I only came back for you.”

JJ hesitated on what he thought he wanted to say. He was biting his tongue. I shook my head.

“That sounds bad.” I laughed. “I only decided to leave because of you. I guess…just sitting in the middle of the road, I already felt really far away from everyone. I missed everyone more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life, but I was convinced that maybe I could suffer through it. But…just being with my thoughts, and hearing your voice after thinking for a while…kinda just convinced me.”

JJ took it all in. I saw the whites of his knuckles deepen the harder he pressed his fingertips to the wheel, the vast expanse of road ahead daunting now. This was beyond quality time together, and he knew it now that the newness began to settle and he began to realize it was the same old me. This was my future, and I had tossed it all away.

“I just…I guess I always thought you’d be the one to make it out. To really go for it. Kildare’s bog enough for me, but I always kinda thought you’d go somewhere…more.” JJ spoke softly, eyes glued to the road.

“Maybe I already did get out. I got out and I tried to change everything about me to be that girl who wanted to get out, but she’s dead. Getting out sounded so freeing when we were younger, but now…now that we’ve seen the world and…and done so much in such little time, I’ve already lived a whole life, I’ve seen the world and I still feel like I don’t know who I am yet. But I know what I love, and I know that I hate every second that I’m away from it.”

JJ hummed again, raising his brows.

“You don’t need to explore every single corner of the earth to be something or-or someone. And maybe I didn’t realize it when I sent my letter in but I know now and I know that, I feel only half as good when I’m anywhere but where I should be. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing or if Pope is going to lecture me for days and you have to listen to it, but I know I have such a better chance of being who I want to be where I can be her than in some Northern University where people wear coats year round.” I rambled. My hands moved quickly. I cut through the air with each slice of my palms, and my eyes ran wild across the landscapes and the curve of his nose down to the bend of his jawline.

“I’m just trying to make sure this is what you want.” He finally cracked a smile. His head turned for a moment to meet my eyes, and I could see the flickers of light brightening up his affectionate gaze.

“Jay, I sat in the pouring rain in the middle of the road and begged you to come get me.” I deadpanned, but a small smile still graced my face.

Truthfully, I couldn’t wait to stick my toes back in the warm sand back home. To look down at my boots and dance along the gravel roads instead of balancing between two yellow lines that shot straight down the neat pavement.

Home was a foreign concept for a long time. The idea that it was something that could be bought. Through a mortgage, monthly rent, out of pocket. I never had those kinds of expenses. What was pocket change for some felt like gold to me, so maybe when people sat around talking about how they craved a big house to reside in, I never fully understood. Then again, I was never anywhere long enough to know.

I wouldn’t change a thing, how I ran around with my friends for years looking for gold that seemed to become buried under more and more stories, leading us to an even greater prize. I wouldn’t change the way I threw it all away to be with them. Subconsciously, I was smarter than I thought. Pope talked about packing up his bags, skipping town and moving to Idaho. Somewhere where he meant nothing to nobody and could start over. But I never indulged in it, or the fantasies of having a little more money. Being stable out be nice, but I always knew I had what I needed. I had a home and it was built on the structure of my four best friends that soon grew in size to six, and they had toothy smiles and stupid jokes.

“Do you think they’ll be mad?” I asked suddenly. Sure, this was right and it was what was true, but this was a dream that nobody else ever got to experience.

JJ pulled his lip between his teeth.

“Nah.” He sighed. “Pope will have your head, but Pope gets wound up easily. Could use him as a fishing pole.” JJ joked. It made me laugh and I felt any stress melting away. It was funny that he could do that anytime he pleased. I didn’t know if he ever knew he could do it, but he had a smart mouth, and a funny bone that always seemed to tickle me just right.

“But not you?” I asked once again.

“Not me what?”

“You wouldn’t? Be disappointed in me, that is.” I clarified softly, the roads becoming softer the more me drove along them. It was only moments until we’d soon roll onto the metal bridge connecting us to the boat that would send us home.

JJ breathed out through his nose.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” I responded plainly.

“And it makes you happy?”

“Yes.” JJ sighed, his eyes flickering from the wheel, to the road, and back to me. But only for a moment.

“Then no.” He answered just as plainly as I did, but there was a twinge of happiness itching at the corners of his lips. Selfishly, he wanted me to come home, and selfishly, I did too.

“Well, are you mad at me?” I continued to press him.

He laughed. “I could never be angry at you.”

“Not even if this is the wrong choice?” I picked at the skin by my fingers. My skin hurt a lot less now that it was shedding the smell of foreign land and letting the faint smell of the Twinkie stick.

“Who am I to tell you if it’s wrong?”

“Well, Pope would tell me it’s wrong.” I argued weakly.

“And am I Pope?”

I shook my head silently, and my eyes glued to my fingers. Blood stained my cuticles, where skin met nail. It stung, but it hurt a lot less than what I felt before.

“Y/n/n, you could send me into bankruptcy and act like we’re rich and I don’t think I’d even have it in me to blame you.” JJ smiled. I focused on the slopes and curls of his hair.

We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t like he was Shakespeare, but it wasn’t often JJ said something truly sappy. Usually, his philosophies revolved around excuses for his own stupid actions, which, now that he had explained his view on me, I had come to realize I never fully saw the extent of his behavior because I had never had the courage to blame him. I never would.

“So, you’ll talk me out of trouble when we get back?” I smiled sweetly, leaning my head on his shoulder and batting my eyelashes desperately.

JJ let out a laugh from deep in his stomach, his cheeks turning pink from his gasps of oxygen.

“I love you, but no.”

“I thought JJ was the reckless one, but holy shit, Y/n/n!” Pope ran a hand over his hat, pulling it off by the brim in one quick motion. The hard fabric hit the wooden counter of the bait and charter shop, the slap echoing through the homely space.

“Can you blame me? It’s so far away, and we just got back! I haven’t been in one place for more than a month in years, and I’m so god damn tired of feeling homesick all the time!” I tried to argue against the growing rally against me. I pleaded my case, but they all looked at me like I was brain dead.

“You had a chance, Y/n. A really good one too and you blew it, for what? To sell bait? To slum it in the cut? You can do that when you’re done earning your other options!” He scolded me like I was a kid. But I’m not a kid, and the worry lines slowly creeping up onto my once vibrant face are only evidence of the ever growing number attached to my bones.

“Yes, but a chance I didn’t ever really want! I mean, how could I even know if I ever wanted it, I don’t know who I am!”

“Thats what growing up is for! Not growing down. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not a kid anymore, Y/n. And you never will be again!”

Silence fell over the small room. Even the waves rolling against the dirt didn’t dare to whisper through the large windows and gaps for doors.

“I sacrificed that for you.” I spoke softly, bitterly. For so long, I’s bitten my tongue for everyone. Hidden my resentment for chasing after a gold, I never really wanted because in my eyes, I already had it. But it was what they wanted, so I let myself age out of the period of my life I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

“I gave up my childhood so that you could figure out yours! You got to know who you are, I never got that because no one ever stopped to ask me what I wanted! Nobody! You were all too caught up in your greedy treasure hunt to ever look around and think about if everyone wanted to do this!”

“No one made you come along.” Kiara stepped forward, the same disapproving look in her eyes. She was only defending her wordless friend, but my feet felt heavy and my joints were warm. I felt myself creating sentences I should have never admitted out loud.

“Well I did! I did, and it’s too late to change that, and I did it because that’s what friends do. But what do we have to show for it? Nothing! We didn’t get the cross, we didn’t get the gold, hell, we already spent all of the nuggets John B managed to grab!” It fell silent again, and suddenly, I was standing in the center of a circle I didn’t want to be a part of.

“So what? Because we failed, it condemns you to leave college?” Kiara always had a smarter mouth than me. She was quit witted and observant. Yet, she failed to understand that my choice to come home wasn’t something merely of the way the treasures slipped through our fingers. It was a homesickness she never had to feel because she had plenty of them where she was consistently welcomed.

“Why is it so wrong for me to be unhappy with something that everyone else enjoys? Just because my dreams do not inspire yours does not make them any less important. A-and honestly I’m sick of standing here and listening to all of you yell at me for getting out of there instead of letting myself waste away! I’d be dead if I didn’t leave, I’d be dead because you all mean a lot too much to me for me to be away from you guys for so long. In four years I might be rich, but I would be unhappy. I would be bored. But you guys—us; we will be interesting, and funny, and bold, and unpredictable forever.”

I swallowed hard, and my eyes met the blues of the boy who had the courage to go against the majorities better judgement and bring me home. He had the same wild look on his face.

I hadn’t expected JJ to speak for me, to try and mellow out the anger I knew I would receive and backtrack against the backlash I would surely face. But out of everyone, I thought I could count on him to have my back.

And he just, didn’t.

I decided then I wouldn’t stay in the eye of the hurricane when I knew what it was capable of. I wouldn’t let myself become part of its destruction if I knew I could separate myself from it for just a moment, to remove myself from all the disappointed stares.

My feet hit the wood of the long dock, the bottoms of my shoes echoing through each plank of wood, all borrowed from the destruction of a past home.

I thought of packing up, leaving, heading over to some other place I could call home temporarily, but my fingers hesitated to reach under the bed, and my knuckles curled away from the zipper that connected to the duffle bag that was squished between dirty clothes and shoe boxes filled with memories.

A hand spun me around, pulling me from the daze I had put myself in the second I walked into the new bedroom that was mine to keep in the newly fixed home. It was calloused and warm, yet the coolness of the rings decorated on each finger revealed who the strong hold belonged to.

“Why couldn’t say something?” I asked bitterly before my eyes even met his. It was just JJ and I in the confines of our bedroom. The door shut without a crack and the windows sealed off from the outside.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He smiled. I didn’t find it funny.

“No, but you could have defended me. I would have done it for you.” My lip wobbled. My throat stung, and JJ’s eyes softened. He must have believed it was because he hurt me, but it wasn’t his fault. It was just the idea that nobody would ever deal with what I felt because they hadn’t been burdened with the feeling of it ever before. And therefore, nobody would ever get it, nor have an inkling of an understanding of why I had to come home.

“Y/n/n, come on. It’ll blow over. They’ll be happy to have you back as soon as they get over it.” He tried to comfort me.

When his hands found my shoulders, it felt belittling, condescending, though I knew it wasn’t the case. I convinced myself it was because I was angry. Spiteful, maybe.

“No, JJ, stop. Stop touching me like you care, I can’t…I can’t stand it right now.” I stepped away, throwing his hands off of me like they were poison, or fire, or both.

“Everyone is looking at me like I’m a failure! Like…like I’m something to be embarrassed about. But who are they to say that I failed? Right? I spent my whole life, the years when I’m supposed to be finding myself licking the dirt off of other peoples shoes! And I took it and I didn’t complain because I thought that maybe my day would come, and it hasn’t! How is that fair? And to think I was stupid enough to think that something good would happen to me. But the truth is I hate being out of this stupid town, and this stupid town hates me. I-it’s like they’re all spitting on me and blaming it on the wind. And don’t look at me like I’m crazy because I love you too damn hard to be looked at like that by a boy I would give my whole life for!”

I breathed heavily through my teeth, and my chest raised with so much vigor in my voice, I shook the air with a desperate anger I had felt marinating for decades beneath my skin. Yet, the manhunting and the blaming had pushed it down, and the failure and the fear had only boiled it back up. But it was always there, simmering. JJ just laughed.

“I’m only looking at you like you’re crazy because I think you’re too good to care what anyone has to say about you.” He explained with a smile.

“To you, maybe. But that doesn’t make it true. Whats true is that they all had some image of me painted for them the second I made the decision to go to college, and it was wrong. Because I’m not nearly smart enough to be as interesting or independent as they want me to be. I can’t do organic chemistry, I’ve never passed a calculus test, I’m not a doctor. Nobody ever supported those dreams anyways, not even me, because as amazing as it would be to become those versions of myself, it’s not me.” My face crumpled in defeat finally.

“I’m not…good enough for anything outside of this town.”

For the first time in my life, I saw something in JJ’s eyes as I confessed how I saw myself, how I let my friends—no, my families anger affect how I saw my decisions. I saw dapples of disappointment flickering in the sea of his eyes.

“Do you really think thats true?” He asked calmly, softly. He ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to reach out for me, but he too shared that feeling of uncertainty that had consumed me in the past months.

“Good god, maybe they were right. Maybe you are a failure.” JJ sighed, and my breathing halted. “How can you for one second believe that anything they have to say is true? How can you believe that these things you think about yourself are true?”

“Well what am I supposed to believe? We were all raised to believe the same things, right? The engineers and the scientists are necessary but nobody needs the family man or-or the artists to carry on, right? So why should my dreams of just simple living be tolerated when everyone else craves so much more?” I cried.

“Do you even hear yourself? It’s contradictory in every sentence!” JJ yelled furiously back at me. But his anger wasn’t placed at me, but at the things that led me to believe what I thought.

“Just a few hours ago you were excited to come home. You were certain that this is what you wanted because it was your dream and your life! You wanted to find yourself, to know who you are. And you were right! More dead on than anyone had ever been in my life, and hearing you speak about what you knew inspired me to think more for myself than for the benefit of everyone else! College, or some fancy job, or money won’t make any of us know who we are, that’s your job!” JJ’s eyes were wide. He had decided now, and his hands found a home on my arms, squeezing hard and passionately.

“Anyone can be those things they want you to be, but I promise you, if you stick with what you know you want, everyone you touch will remember you for centuries.” He promised me softly.

“And how do I know if I even know myself? What if I’ve never been home enough long enough to know?”

“Then you’ll find it. You’ll find it, and I’ll find it too. We can find it together.”

My eyes searched his. I could no longer blink away my tears. The liquid was much warmer than the rain that had pelted against my skin, that had slipped down my back and under my shirt to touch the most painful and terrifying parts of myself that I had refused to acknowledge or recover for some time. It was hard to recognize it all, to know exactly who I wanted to be, so, I did what I did know.

I wrapped my arms around JJ tightly, burying my head in the wrinkles of his shirt and let the patterns his arms rubbed circles in my back guide the way I swayed. I let him hold me, because if anything could be uncertain then he was nothing. He was the one thing I’d always known, and maybe that was why I had called him that night. Because in every memory I ever had, he was the one defining memory of home. He was home.

“Will you be mad at me if I never find it?” I asked pathetically against his chest.

“No.” He responded softly, muffled by the way his lips pressed into the top of my head affectionately.

“I could never be angry at you.”

#jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #maybank #maybankxyou #maybankxreader

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focusonkayjay · 1 day ago

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Wildly Wealthy Koreans (2); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Word Count: 6.6k+

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Warnings: talks about culture, your mom is a meanie

A/N: literally fighting the urge to rewatch crazy rich asians right now omg. anyways, i'm having so much fun writing this because i love explaining every little thing in detail, and this series gives me so many opportunities to do so. let me know your thoughts <3

part 2

“I can’t believe this.” Jungkook breathes out, sinking into the plush comfort of Yoongi’s ridiculously soft mattress. He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing as he tries to process everything he had found out during the eventful lunch he just had with Yoongi's family.

It feels like the ground beneath him has shifted. You’re not exactly who he thought you were. Not that he had preconceived notions about your life, but this? This was on an entirely different level. “I wonder why she never told me.” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Yoongi chuckles from across the room as he pulls back the heavy, luxurious curtains, flooding the space with the warm afternoon light. His bedroom is just as opulent as the rest of the mansion... floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern furniture, and an aesthetic that screams understated wealth.

“I mean… maybe she didn’t want to show off.” Yoongi suggests casually, as if being from an ultra-rich family is something people hide every day. “Yeah… like you.” Jungkook points out, sitting up and gesturing around the room.

His eyes narrow as they take in every detail. “You never told me you were this...” he pauses, glancing pointedly at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the antique show piece on the side table, and the impossibly soft bedding beneath him “...rich.”

Yoongi smirks as he leans against the window frame, arms crossed. “What can I say? I’m humble like that.”

Jungkook groans, leaning back on the mattress as he throws an arm over his face. “My whole life is a lie. You’re telling me I’ve been surrounded by literal multimillionaires this whole time and I didn’t have a single clue?” His voice is half-frustrated, half-bewildered, and the wide-eyed expression on his face makes Yoongi snort with laughter.

“Come on, you’re being dramatic.” Yoongi teases, his tone light but with a knowing smirk. It’s almost laughable coming from him... the same guy who was practically losing his mind over you back in the dining room. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” he adds casually, as if he hadn’t been the one freaking out just moments ago.

“Not that big of a deal?” Jungkook echoes, sitting up with an incredulous look. “You live in a mansion. You drive a car that costs more than my entire apartment building. And now I find out my girlfriend is a part of one of the most powerful families in the country?” He shakes his head, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. Totally normal. Nothing to see here.”

Yoongi grins, clearly entertained by his friend’s over-the-top reaction. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.” he jokes. Jungkook shoots him a look. “I’m on the verge of an existential crisis, and you’re laughing at me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Yoongi says with a shrug, making Jungkook groan again.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about that damn tea party ceremony thing I have to go to, this evening.” Jungkook sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

His fingers thread through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what to expect after everything I’ve learned today.” He breathes out heavily, as though the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

“Don’t stress it.” Yoongi replies, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant as he leans back in his chair. He looks completely at ease, like Jungkook hadn’t just had his world turned upside down in the span of a few minutes.

Jungkook stares at him, exasperated. “How can I not? I don’t know if I’ll even be able to fit in. Everyone there will probably take one look at me and smell the filth on me. They’ll know right away that I’m a completely different breed compared to them.” he huffs, gesturing dramatically to make his point.

Yoongi stifles a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Jungkook counters, his tone sharp. “I’m just some regular guy. I grew up in a tiny apartment with my mom, eating instant ramen and working part-time jobs to get by. These people... your people... live in literal mansions and probably eat gold-flaked caviar for breakfast or something.” he rambles.

Yoongi finally bursts out laughing, the sound making Jungkook scowl even more. “Gold-flaked caviar? That’s a bit too much, even for us.” Yoongi teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “But seriously, You’re overthinking it.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his insecurities bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get it. I’m not like them. I don’t know the rules, or how to act, or what to say or how... how to dress. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” he says, covering his face as the stress surges through his veins.

"Well, since you brought it up... do you have an outfit for the evening?" Yoongi questions. Jungkook shrugs, a bit unsure. “Well, I have this simple suit. It’s... it's this black-”

“No way.” Yoongi interrupts, shaking his head in disbelief. “There’s no way you’re wearing a simple black suit to this thing.”

Jungkook blinks, taken aback. “What’s wrong with a simple black suit?” he asks, genuinely perplexed.

Yoongi clicks his tongue like a disappointed teacher, standing up from his seat. “This won’t do. Follow me.” he says briskly, already turning on his heels. Jungkook barely has time to react before Yoongi is leading him down the hall and into what can only be described as a dream closet.

The room is enormous, with racks of clothing neatly arranged by color and style. Spotlights illuminate the array of designer outfits, from tailored suits to silk shirts and everything in between.

Shelves line the walls, displaying polished leather shoes, neatly folded ties, and an impressive collection of watches. A faint, luxurious scent lingers in the air, and Jungkook can’t help but gape at the sheer extravagance of it all.

“Okay, let’s see.” Yoongi mutters, his sharp eyes scanning the racks like a man on a mission. He pulls out a prussian blue short coat with clean, sharp lines and a tailored fit. The material has a subtle texture that exudes luxury without being flashy. “This is so so sleek and I think this should be perfect for tonight.” he muses.

“Blue?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s the move?”

Yoongi smirks. “I don't think... I know it is.” He sets the coat aside and grabs a light blue silky dress shirt, its soft sheen adding just the right amount of elegance. “This will add a little softness. Plus, it’s classy as hell.” he explains.

Before Jungkook can protest, Yoongi moves to another section, pulling out matching prussian blue trousers. “These match the coat...” he softly says, more to himself.

Yoongi then crouches down to the shoe shelf, grabbing a pair of sleek black loafers “And these... for your feet.” He stands back up and makes his way to the display of accessories.

“We’ll keep it simple...” he murmurs, looking around and a few seconds later, he picks out a delicate diamond brooch shaped like a flower. “This is gonna add just the right amount of sophistication without being too much.” he smiles, proud of himself for the fashion choices he's making.

“Try it on.” Yoongi orders, shoving the outfit into Jungkook’s arms.

Jungkook hesitates, still overwhelmed by how much thought Yoongi has put into this. “Isn’t this… a bit too much for a tea... party?”

“Not for this one.” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Trust me, this is how you blend in while still making a statement.. you're gonna thank me for this.”

A few minutes later, Jungkook emerges from the dressing area, and Yoongi’s face lights up in approval, completely satisfied with his work.

The prussian blue coat fits Jungkook perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders, while the silky light blue shirt adds a sophisticated edge. The trousers and polished loafers complete the look, and the diamond brooch glimmers subtly, tying everything together seamlessly. (jungkook's full outfit if u want to visualize it)

Yoongi whistles low, nodding. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You look insanely good.” he claps. Jungkook glances at himself in the mirror, stunned by the transformation. “I look… fancy.” he mutters, running a hand down the soft fabric of the coat.

Yoongi smirks. “You look expensive. And that’s exactly the point.”

As the clock strikes 5, Jungkook’s phone buzzes with a message from you. It’s the address of the place he’s supposed to go. The pit in his stomach deepens as he reads it... nerves gnawing at him now that the event feels real and imminent.

He stands in Yoongi’s room, fidgeting with the cuffs of the silky dress shirt he's wearing, while Yoongi carefully styles his hair. After a few minutes of fussing, Yoongi steps back, his expression satisfied. “There.... perfect.” he quips with a smirk.

Jungkook sighs, taking in his reflection. He looks different... polished, refined, like someone who owns a portfolio full of stocks and leaves enormous tips at fancy restaurants without a second thought. He tilts his head, still processing the transformation.

“Let’s head out?” Yoongi suggests, and though still hesitant, Jungkook nods, grabbing his phone and wallet before following Yoongi downstairs.

When they step outside, the familiar luxury of Yoongi's estate greets him and he instantly notices that this time, Yoongi has opted for a different car... a sleek, deep-red Ferrari Roma. The polished exterior gleams under the fading daylight, and Jungkook can’t help but gawk. "This car looks like it belongs in a museum." he mutters, still trying to process Yoongi’s absurdly lavish lifestyle.

The same guard from earlier appears, carrying Jungkook’s luggage, which he efficiently loads into the the car's surprisingly spacious trunk. Yoongi slides into the driver’s seat, revving the engine, and the low, throaty hum fills the air.

Jungkook gets into the passenger seat, muttering under his breath, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

Yoongi chuckles as he adjusts the rearview mirror. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you, Yoongi, for giving me a taste of luxury.’” he jokes.

The ride to the address you’ve shared isn’t long, but with each passing kilometer, Jungkook grows more apprehensive. The city’s bustling streets fade away, replaced by quieter, tree-lined roads. And as the sun finally sets, the atmosphere feels secluded and serene, the kind of area reserved for only the wealthiest of the wealthy.

By the time they approach the destination, it’s almost completely dark, and the surroundings are cloaked in shadow. Eventually, the headlights illuminate a massive iron gate adorned with intricate designs, the kind that looks custom-made and costs more than an average car.

Tall stone pillars flank the gate, with elegant golden lettering engraved on plaques— 'The Kims' etched prominently.

The GPS pings, signaling they’ve arrived. Before Jungkook can say a word, the gates swing open automatically, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with towering, perfectly trimmed trees. A soft glow from decorative lanterns illuminates the path, casting an ethereal ambiance over the grounds.

“Is this a driveway or a runway?” Jungkook mutters as the car rolls forward. The sheer length of the driveway seems surreal and it takes them almost five minutes to reach the end.

When they finally arrive, Yoongi slams on the brakes, his jaw dropping. “Holy fuck…” he breathes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His voice is barely above a whisper as he asks, “Are you seeing this?”

Jungkook stares, utterly gobsmacked. Before them stands an enormous mansion, more like a palace than a home. The architecture is a seamless blend of modern elegance and classic grandeur.

A sprawling facade of pristine white marble reflects the soft golden lights strategically placed along the perimeter. Massive glass windows stretch across the mansion, framed by intricate black ironwork.

A fountain stands proudly in the center of the circular driveway, water cascading gracefully in the glow of ambient lights. The front doors are enormous, crafted from dark wood and adorned with golden handles that look like they belong in a royal palace.

Behind the mansion, faint silhouettes of sprawling gardens and additional wings of the estate hint at just how vast this property is. Jungkook feels like he’s stepped into a movie. His voice is barely audible as he murmurs. “This… This is where Y/N lives?”

“Dude...” Yoongi says, still staring at the mansion. “I told you my place would be nothing compared to this.”

As Yoongi is still marveling at the house, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he’s afraid to blink and miss something, Jungkook’s gaze drifts beyond the car's window.

Near the expansive lawn and the grand entrance of the mansion, groups of people mingle, their laughter and chatter carried on the soft evening breeze. It’s all so overwhelming, but then his eyes land on you, and suddenly, the world seems to still.

You’re standing by the grand double doors, chatting with two women who appear equally elegant. But his focus is entirely on you. You’re dressed in a stunning emerald green gown that hugs your figure just right.

The strapless design accentuates your shoulders and collarbones, and the gown flows down in soft, silky waves, brushing against the floor with every slight movement. A string of delicate pearls adorns your chest, their soft sheen catching the light with each turn of your head.

Your hair is styled in a way that frames your face beautifully, soft tendrils brushing against your cheeks. The golden glow of the mansion’s lights reflects in your eyes, making them look like the night sky dotted with stars.

You smile at something one of the girls says, and that smile... it’s the kind that makes Jungkook’s heart skip a beat, the kind that could light up even the darkest of nights.

As he sits there in Yoongi’s car, rooted to his seat, he can’t help but take in your beauty. The way you carry yourself with such grace and confidence, as though you were born to belong in a setting as grand as this. Jungkook feels his throat tighten. How? How on earth had someone like him... ordinary, flawed, and a complete mess half the time, ever managed to end up with someone like you?

You’re perfect, he thinks, in every sense of the word. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your laughter carries, soft and melodic, across the air. He feels a pang of disbelief, as though at any moment someone might tap him on the shoulder and tell him it’s all been a dream.

His hand clenches slightly against his knee as he leans back into the seat, still staring at you, unable to look away.

And like magic, your eyes meet his from across the expanse. It’s as though the crowd and the grandeur of the mansion fade into nothing, leaving just the two of you in your own world.

Your expression instantly lights up, a radiant smile spreading across your face. You excuse yourself from the two women without the slightest bit of hesitation, your steps purposeful as you make your way towards the car parked by the grand fountain.

“Oh my god, she’s coming… she’s coming here.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, panic and exhilaration twisting together in his chest. His words snap Yoongi out of his trance, but before Yoongi can even react, Jungkook is already out of the car.

“Baby... you made it.... Hi.” you say, your voice sweet and filled with warmth as you approach him. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The faint scent of your perfume envelops him, soft and comforting, and for a moment, he’s too stunned to move.

Just seconds ago, Jungkook’s mind had been a mixture of nerves and doubts, the unfamiliar surroundings and the weight of everything he’d learned earlier still pressing on him. But now, as he feels your arms around him and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest, all of that melts away.

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. In your embrace, the humoungous mansion, the status of those around him, and the intimidating luxury that surrounded him, no longer mattered. None of it.

Right here, right now, he feels safe. He feels like he belongs... not with the wealth, not with the prestige, but with you. It’s in the way your presence calms his racing heart, in the way your touch grounds him. With you, it feels like home.

And in that moment, he knows. No matter how out of place he might feel in this world of opulence, as long as he has you, he’ll always belong.

“Ahem.” Yoongi clears his throat, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches the two of you pull away from the hug. He stands by the side of the car, arms casually crossed, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. His gaze flicks between you and Jungkook, his eyebrows wiggling as if to silently ask... Are you going to introduce me, or what?

Jungkook’s eyes travel to Yoongi, and the subtle shift in his expression tells Yoongi that he’s caught on to the unspoken request. He gives a small, sheepish chuckle, the tension that had lingered before, now dissipating.

“Babe, this is Yoongi.” he says, his voice soft but genuine as he reaches out to encircle your waist again, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your back. He turns his head to Yoongi with a grin. “And Yoongi�� this is Y/n.”

You look at Yoongi, a warm and open smile immediately spreading across your face. You’ve only heard bits and pieces of stories about him from Jungkook, but you already have a good sense of his nature. “Yoongi, hi!” you greet him, your voice bubbling with kindness.

“Thank you so much for bringing him. I'm a little mad at you for stealing him away from me on his very first day here...” you tease, your eyes sparkling as you glance up at Jungkook. “But I still get it. I guess I’ll forgive you... only this time, though.”

Yoongi chuckles, genuinely amused by your playfulness. He raises his arms, giving a mock bow, and offers a teasing apology. “I apologize. But thank you for letting him come meet me. It was really nice catching up after all these years." he sincerely says.

You smile at the sentiment, inching closer to Jungkook as you move past the brief formality. The three of you stand for a moment, the evening breeze and the sound of the water splashing in the fountain, wrapping around you.

The conversation feels comfortable, like a warm, shared space where everyone is still figuring each other out but already enjoying the connections being made.

Then, with a sudden idea that seems to come naturally to you, you look up at Yoongi with a soft but insistent smile. “Why don’t you join us tonight? It’ll be fun.” you suggest, your tone light but sincere.

Yoongi looks like he’s about to refuse, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he opens his mouth to protest. “Oh, my god, no. It’s alright, really-”

You cut him off gently, your voice light with the promise of something easy and enjoyable. “Oh, come on. It’ll be amazing. Besides you're already here and I would feel like a horrible person if I just sent you away without an invitation. Plus, I'm pretty sure you'll find some you know in there.. so please, do come.”

Yoongi hesitates again, the pull of his curiosity and the warmth of your invitation winning him over. But deep down, he knows he’d be stupid to refuse. Why the hell wouldn’t he want to spend his evening at the Kim estate, soaking in the luxury and splendor?

“Well... if you insist…” Yoongi begins, finally giving in with a playful smirk. “I’d be honored to stay.”

Jungkook watches the exchange with a soft grin on his lips, his heart swelling with a quiet affection for you. In moments like these, it’s impossible not to marvel at how effortlessly you make everyone feel at ease.

Your ability to connect with anyone, to put people at ease with your calm demeanor and genuine interest, is one of the things he admires the most about you.

As the three of you enter the mansion, Jungkook’s eyes immediately widen at the sheer gloriousness of the place. The space is expansive, and the walls are adorned with elegant artwork, framed portraits, and intricate carvings that speak of a long history of wealth and taste.

The air smells faintly of fresh flowers and something warm, like vanilla, and the soft lighting gives the house an intimate yet sophisticated feel. He can’t help but be in awe, his footsteps slowing as he takes in the magnificent surroundings. From the grand chandeliers overhead to the tastefully arranged furniture, every corner is meticulously curated.

Suddenly, Yoongi is distracted by a familiar face in the crowd... a friend of his, evidently, who bumps into him as they walk into the entryway. "Yooooo...Yoongi, What are you doing here, dude?" the man beams, instantly dapping him up.

Yoongi’s expression shifts from casual to excited as he greets the man, and soon enough, they’re deep in conversation, his attention completely absorbed by the exchange.

Seizing the moment, you lean over to Jungkook and softly whisper. “Come on, let's leave Yoongi to catch up with his friend." you simply say.

Without giving him an opportunity to agree or protest, you take Jungkook’s hand and lead him up the grand staircase, the polished wooden steps creaking slightly beneath your heels.

The second floor seems even quieter than the first, with only the distant murmur of conversation from the living room and the lawn below. The hallway is empty, the walls lined with family portraits and antique furniture that speaks of both elegance and history.

As you walk down the long corridor, Jungkook follows quietly, his hand wrapped around yours, the warmth of your touch grounding him.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch his gaze and flash him a playful, flirty smile. Then, with effortless grace, you turn to face him, continuing to walk backwards, your eyes never leaving his, a teasing glint dancing in them.

A comfortable silence settles between you two as your eyes take him in. He looks undeniably charming. The way the outfit fits him, accentuating his sharp features, makes your heart flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

Even though you’ve only been apart for a few hours, you’ve missed him deeply. Unable to find the right words, you let your gaze speak for you, your eyes lingering on him with warmth and admiration, as if memorizing every detail.

“Did I tell you how fucking gorgeous you look tonight?” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the stillness, and you can't help but giggle at the awe in his expression.

His eyes glint with admiration, the kind of look that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He’s not hiding his feelings, and it’s evident from the way he glances at you, his gaze tracing your figure as if trying to etch every detail into his mind.

You feel a spark ignite inside you at his words, but you manage a smile, keeping your composure as you look at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” you tease, your steps slowing as he steps closer, releasing your fingers from his hold as he places his hands on your waist, halting you in your tracks.

The corridor feels quieter now, the faint hum of distant chatter fading into the background as his presence fills the space. He pulls you closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “I missed you.” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest, his gaze flickering to your lips. And as though it’s second nature, he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss.

A smile curls on your lips as you kiss him back, the warmth of the moment sending a flurry of butterflies through you. You can’t understand how he always manages to have this effect on you, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“I missed you too.” you whisper as he pulls away, your eyes catching the faint shimmer of your lip gloss now smudged on his lips.

Despite the intimate moment you’ve just shared, you can’t help but laugh softly. He tilts his head in slight confusion, his brow arching adorably. Without saying a word, you take his hand again, leading him forward down the corridor.

“Come on, I want to show you my room.” you say, your voice light and eager as you guide him further into the corridor.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in eagerness as you lead him further down the corridor, past several closed doors. The silence around you both feels almost comforting, as if this is a moment just for the two of you... away from the grandiose of the house and the people downstairs. You’re aware of the weight of the space around you, but in this moment, you’re only aware of him.

“I’ve lived in this house ever since I was a baby...” you continue, your voice quiet but soft, allowing a sense of nostalgia to seep in. “After moving out to New York, the one thing I missed the most was my room.” You look up at him, your smile deepening. “So... I really just... wanted to show it to you.”

Jungkook seems struck by your words, his curiosity piqued, but you don’t elaborate further. You can tell he’s fascinated by the house... he’s seen enough of it already to know it’s not just a regular mansion, but you’re careful not to make him feel overwhelmed.

You don’t want him to think you’re bragging or showing off, not when it comes to your family’s history or the house that’s been passed down for generations. It’s always been a part of you, but you’ve always hated the idea of people seeing you through the lens of privilege.

You’ve never been the type to flaunt it, but the quiet discomfort always lingers. The fear that people will think you’re trying to distance yourself from others or act like you’re somehow above them. It’s why you’ve never told Jungkook much about your background, not in the way some people might expect. You didn’t want him to misunderstand.

As you round a corner and approach your door, Jungkook glances at you, sensing that there’s something more beneath the surface of your words. He opens his mouth to ask, but you cut him off gently with a soft smile, knowing he’ll get to know everything in time.

For now, all that matters is this moment, and as you unlock the door to your room, you can’t help but feel an odd sense of calm. You’ve never shared this part of yourself with anyone before... not like this. But with him, it feels like you’re finally letting him see all of you.

As you switch the lights on, a soft glow fills the room, instantly giving it a warm, inviting ambiance. Jungkook takes a step inside, his gaze sweeping over the delicate details that make up the space. The walls are painted in a blush pink hue, accentuated by crown molding in a creamy white tone.

The furniture matches the aesthetic, with an elegant white queen sized bed and a quilted headboard adorned with tiny, pearl-like studs.

There’s a fluffy cream rug sprawled across the polished wooden floor, and a cozy armchair tucked into the corner beside a tall bookshelf that’s overflowing with colorful novels, fashion magazines and trinkets.

The vanity table by the window catches his attention, its surface sprinkled with makeup items, a small vase of fresh flowers, and neatly arranged bottles of perfume. Above it, a mirror framed with soft golden lights reflects the subtle shimmer of the space.

The walls are brought to life with framed posters of iconic bands and celebrities, each placed thoughtfully, as though telling a story. A string of Polaroid pictures hangs on the wall near the bed, giving the room a personal, nostalgic touch.

He notices little figurines of 'Hello Kitty' on a floating shelf and a small collection of plush toys sitting in a basket near the window seat. The room feels youthful and dreamy, like stepping into a snapshot of your childhood.

Jungkook takes it all in, pausing as his eyes land on the posters and the subtle quirks that reveal glimpses of your younger self. He can’t help but imagine you here as a teenager... probably sprawled out on the bed, reading or listening to music, daydreaming about the future. The thought makes him smile, a warm fondness settling in his chest.

His thoughts are interrupted as you walk over to the vanity and pick up a picture frame, holding it up with a soft smile. “That’s me...” you say, pointing to a baby in the photo. Jungkook steps closer, curious, and his eyes fall on a little version of you, chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed. “And that... is Tae.” you continue, pointing to a young toddler that's securely holding you in his tiny arms.

Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning in to get a better look. “You still look the same.” he chuckles, his gaze shifting between the picture and you. "And Taehyung looks like he’s already ready to fight anyone who gets near you." he adds.

You laugh, gently setting the frame back down. You glance at the photo one last time, feeling a small tug of nostalgia before turning to Jungkook, who’s still looking around, clearly charmed by this intimate glimpse into your past.

"Your room is beautiful." he finally says, his voice soft with admiration as his gaze takes in the delicate details surrounding him. He can't believe he's being shown this deeply personal part of your life, and it makes him feel incredibly special.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his neck with a tender smile. "Thank you, baby. I'm so glad I could show it to you." you say, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Just as the moment seems perfect, your expression shifts like you've suddenly remembered something crucial. "Oh my god! wait... no way... I totally forgot!!" you exclaim, breaking away from him.

Jungkook is bewildered for what feels like the hundredth time today as you grab his hand and practically drag him out of the room and down the long corridor. He's still trying to process what’s happening when you lead him back downstairs. His eyes dart around, noticing the guests still lost in their conversations, oblivious to the two of you passing by.

"I told my mom I'd introduce you to her the minute you'd arrive but… I totally forgot!" you admit hurriedly, your voice tinged with a mix of excitement and guilt as you weave through the crowd.

The words hit Jungkook like a bolt of lightning, and his eyes widen in panic. Your mom? He was going to meet your mom? Right now? No warning, no preparation? He feels a surge of anxiety bubbling up in his chest.

"Wait... wait!" he halts abruptly, tugging your hand so you’re forced to turn around and look at him in confusion. "Babe, a warning would have been nice. I need to prepare myself for this moment... this is your mom we're talking about." he breathes out, clutching his chest dramatically.

You chuckle, brushing off his concerns with ease. "Oh, come on, Kook. She's just my mom. You'll be fine, I promise." you assure, gently tugging his hand again, urging him to follow you.

Reluctantly, Jungkook lets himself be led through a side door and into what appears to be the kitchen. As soon as he steps inside, he’s overwhelmed by the bustling atmosphere. The space is alive with activity... chefs moving in synchrony, slicing, plating, and perfecting dishes with meticulous attention to the tiniest details.

The scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the aroma of roasted meat and delicate spices, creating a sensory overload.

Jungkook’s gaze darts from one end of the kitchen to the other, trying to absorb everything at once. A massive spread of colorful dishes is being prepared on a long marble countertop, and he doesn’t even know where to focus. For a moment, he forgets his nerves as he marvels at the organized chaos around him.

"Stay with me." you murmur, squeezing his hand reassuringly. But Jungkook can’t help but think about how this might be the most intimidating moment of his life... meeting your mom in the middle of what feels like a five-star culinary operation.

You glance around the bustling kitchen, scanning the scene for your mom. It doesn’t take long before you spot her back as she leans slightly towards one of the chefs, gesturing animatedly while the chef nods thoughtfully, hanging on her every word.

There’s a commanding yet sophisticated presence about her, and the sight makes a smile creep onto your lips. Without hesitation, you tug Jungkook along, your excitement bubbling over. “Mama!!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of the kitchen.

At first, she doesn’t respond, too engrossed in giving precise instructions about something to the chef. You don’t mind, though because you know how focused she can get when she’s in her element.

As you approach her, you release Jungkook’s hand, letting him stand beside you as he instinctively straightens his coat, smoothing the fabric nervously.

Now only a few steps away, you finally stop, waiting patiently for her to finish her instructions. Jungkook stands a little stiffly next to you, his hands clasped in front of him as he watches the exchange, silently psyching himself up for what’s coming next.

Once she finishes instructing the chef, she finally turns around, her soft features lighting up with a smile when her eyes land on you. “Y/N.” she says warmly, acknowledging you.

Her appearance is effortlessly chic, exuding an aura of power and sophistication. Dressed in a sleek, wine colored dress paired with a delicate pearl necklace and stud earrings, she looks into your eyes.

Her posture is immaculate, shoulders back, chin high, and she carries herself with an air of unshakable authority. Her eyes... sharp and piercing, hold a fierceness that can make anyone squirm under her gaze.

She’s never been the one to smile easily, and even now, her expression holds a seriousness that makes Jungkook feel like he’s being sized up before he’s even said a word.

But when her eyes shift to Jungkook, her demeanor subtly changes. The faint smile that played on her lips moments ago falters, replaced by a look of mild disapproval.

One of her eyebrows arches as she takes in the man standing beside you, and Jungkook immediately feels the weight of her scrutiny. It’s clear from the way her gaze lingers that she’s not the least bit pleased to meet him.

“Mama, this is Jungkook.” you begin sweetly, your voice light and cheerful, as if trying to bridge the gap of tension. “I told you I was bringing him.” You smile at her, radiating warmth, but it’s met with a polite but distant smile from her, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Jungkook isn’t blind to it, he can see the coldness lurking behind her expression.

“Hello.” she finally says, her tone neutral, devoid of warmth. Her words are carefully measured, making Jungkook feel like she’s already testing him.

He feels his heart rate spike, but he doesn’t let it show. With a deep breath, he bows at a perfect right angle, his voice steady as he speaks. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He straightens up, his posture confident despite the nervous energy coursing through him.

He meets her fierce gaze head-on, determined to make a good impression, though her icy stare makes him feel like he’s being dissected.

You glance at Jungkook, noticing his effort, and squeeze his hand briefly before stepping closer to your mother, hoping to ease the tension.

She nods curtly as Jungkook introduces himself, her sharp eyes trailing over him from head to toe, as though she’s analyzing every detail.

"So, you're from New York?" she asks suddenly, her voice carrying an edge that makes Jungkook straighten his posture. The question catches him slightly off guard, but he quickly nods in acknowledgment.

"Yes, ma’am." he answers politely, his voice steady.

Your mother narrows her eyes slightly, a calculating look flashing across her face. "I'm sure you've noticed how different things are around here... in Korea." she says, her tone almost conversational, though there's an unmistakable undercurrent of something more. "Very different from your... western culture." she adds, the words laced with what feels like a taunt.

You shift uncomfortably, sensing the rising tension. Jungkook hesitates, unsure of how to respond, and you decide to step in. "Mama, he lived in Korea before he moved to New York..." you explain gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "I'm sure he knows how things are around here."

But your mother doesn't acknowledge your reassurance. Her piercing gaze stays fixed on Jungkook. "Your parents?" she asks next, one eyebrow raised, her expression unyielding.

Jungkook’s throat tightens as he answers, his tone polite but guarded. "My mom... she owns a café in New York." he replies, hoping to keep the answer straightforward.

Your mother’s expression barely changes, but Jungkook notices the faintest flicker of disapproval in her eyes. It’s subtle, but it cuts deep. "Ah... so it's only your mother, then?" she probes further, her voice calm but pointed.

You feel your stomach drop at her words, the implicit judgment in her tone impossible to miss. Your protective instincts kick in immediately, and before she can say anything more, you interject.

"Okay, Mama, that's enough interrogation for now..." you say, your voice cheerful but firm as you grab Jungkook’s hand. "We need to get going. Grandma is going to be here any minute now... and the party is going to start soon." you add.

Jungkook notices the way her eyes flick down to your intertwined hands, and her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. She doesn’t say anything, though, merely nodding stiffly as she steps back.

Before the situation can escalate further, you tug Jungkook out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As soon as you’re out of your mother's sight, you stop and turn to him, your expression apologetic.

"I am so so so sorry for that." you say quickly, your eyes scanning his face. You can see how pale he looks, the color drained from his cheeks. The conversation clearly rattled him, and it breaks your heart.

"I don’t know why she was acting like that." you continue, your voice softening as you place a comforting hand on his cheek. "I’m really sorry, baby. That wasn’t fair to you."

Jungkook exhales slowly, feeling the warmth of your palm against his skin. He hates how unsettled he feels, the subtle but unmistakable judgment in your mother’s eyes still gnawing at him.

He’s not naive, he knows exactly what her words and looks implied. But he doesn’t want to burden you with his feelings, so he forces a small smile and shrugs.

"Please... don’t apologize." he says gently, his voice calm but distant. "She’s your mother. I get why she’d question me like that... I’m dating her daughter, after all." he reasons.

His attempt to brush it off doesn’t fool you, but you decide not to push him. Instead, you give his cheek a small caress, hoping to soothe him.

Sensing the heaviness lingering between you, Jungkook shifts the conversation. "Anyways... don’t we have a tea party to get to?" he asks with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite the war in his mind.

You know he’s deflecting, choosing not to dwell on the interaction with your mother. So you let him, offering him a gentle smile in return. "We do." you reply softly, squeezing his hand. "Come on, let’s go."

As Jungkook trails behind you, the weight in his chest feels almost suffocating, each step amplifying the unease swirling in his mind.

Three weeks... that’s how long he’s going to be here for. The thought echoes in his head, heavier with every repetition.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to endure it, not when your mother’s piercing gaze feels like it sees right through him, layered with unspoken judgments that cut deeper than words ever could.

The very idea looms ahead, an uphill battle he isn’t sure he’s equipped to fight, yet one he knows he cannot avoid.

<- part 1

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy (lmk if u want to be added <3)

#jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts fic #enemies to lovers #jungkook fanfiction #crazy rich asians

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 days ago

Text

♡ breathe your name ♡

♡ Pairing: best man!hyunjin x bride!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Summary: It's the day of your lavish wedding. Everything's set in place. From the dress you wear to the aisle you're walking down, everything's picture perfect. At least you're able to pretend it is until the appearance of a particular wedding guest in your dressing room brings up feelings that you can't ignore. Will you be able to bury your past to get through this day or will you find yourself drawn back into the arms of thet man you swore you'd never speak to again?

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: mentions of an affair that you definitely had with Hyunjin. a lil make out session. mentions of sex. but other than that? none (shortest warnings list I've probably ever written. oh my gosh).

♡ A/N: This is what happens when you leave me alone with an Adele playlist. Anyway, I hope you have fun at your wedding. It's gonna be...interesting, babes xoxo

There’s something some girls spend their entire lives dreaming of. Wishing, even praying, for.

The perfect wedding.

And you have it.

The picturesque church nestled in the heart of a gorgeous historical district. It costs more than some people’s mortgage to rent this place for a few hours. The simple act of laying eyes on it starts knocking numbers off of your bank account. The celebrity planner who's been on the cover of wedding magazines and worked tirelessly to make sure today’s an occasion people will talk about for years to come. The gorgeously crafted white dress, custom sewn and beaded for your special day. It accentuates every delicate contour of your figure perfectly. Like everything else here. So perfect.

“Smile a little, babe. This is the happiest day of your life!” your makeup artist giggles, applying the finishing touches to your lipstick.

Seated in front of a mirror in the church’s dressing room, you nervously toy with your diamond bracelet and force a faint smile. All you can manage under the circumstances.

“It might be raining out there” she hums, her gaze drifting over to the gloomy sky looming beyond the stained glass windows, “But you, my dear, are pure sunshine.”

She circles behind you, gentle hands resting on your bare shoulders. “So, what do you think?” she asks, fussing with a few flyaway hairs that managed to sneak their way out of your updo.

You take a deep breath and summon all of your courage to face what you’ve been running from all day. Your own reflection. “It’s beautiful” you lie, your smile beginning to waver as your stomach audibly turns.

She shouldn’t be here. No one should. Not your family. Not your friends. Certainly not you. This is not the best day of your life. This is a mistake. You’ve known that for a while now and have been biding your time ever since waiting for the right moment to fix it. But the moment never came and time, as it does, ran out. Your fiance’s proposal had been accepted out of spite. It didn’t matter at the time that you were giving yourself away to a cruel, narcissistic man whose greatest joy in life is that he can use his daddy’s money to buy who and what he wants.

What mattered was that the man you truly loved, the one your heart pines for even now, had broken your heart and you needed to break his. A mission that the announcement of your engagement flawlessly accomplished but was it worth it? Was any of this worth it? Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighed down by cement bricks, heavy with the knowledge that it wasn’t.

Your makeup artist sees it on your face. The sorrow. The regret. A sudden tapping at the door diverts any attempt she might’ve made to question you. She turns to answer the door but there’s no need. A figure in black is already entering the room, filling the air with a cologne you once spent endless passionate nights inhaling. Without thinking you breathe it deep into your lungs, savoring it even as you despise the appearance of the man it emanates from.

“You must be lost. The groom’s room is down the hall on the left” your makeup artist frowns, waving the man in the designer suit away.

The corners of his lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile but pleasant enough to be mistaken for one. “No, I’m not lost. I just need a second with her. I won’t be long” he insists, advancing towards you with a confidence you find both irritating and irresistible.

That was Hyunjin for you. So charming. So graceful. So handsome. So much of everything that you can hardly stomach him. You crave his touch on every inch of your body and want him to get lost all at the same time.

You clear your throat, patting your makeup artist on the back of the hand, “It’s fine. If anyone asks, just let them know I need a moment please.”

Hesitantly she nods and makes her way out of the room, all the while keeping a skeptical eye on Hyunjin who takes her place behind you. He fusses with the same hairs, successfully finding an excuse to touch any part of you.

Hyunjin sighs, head tilted to the side. He pokes his bottom lip out, releasing a huff of air that blows his long dark hair free of his line of vision. Now he can see you perfectly, unobstructed, and his eyes light up at you the way they always have. “You look like an angel” he smiles and it’s genuine this time, no matter how badly you wish it weren’t. His fingertips brush your ears and your body’s flush with heat in an instant. You always despised it, how little it takes for Hyunjin to get a reaction out of you.

“What do you want?” you snap, your tone unforgiving. The way you look at him, it’s as if you hate him. Why? Hyunjin knows why. He can’t deny that he deserves it for what he’s done—for what he’s come here to do. His hands drift along the outline of your face. They skim your cheek too lightly to disturb your makeup but you feel his touch still.

“Leave” you demand, drawing in a sharp breath at the sensation, “I don’t want you here.” The power behind your request is not existent. Rather than come out threatening, laced with conviction, your words are nothing more than a whisper. If you had to rely on them to push him out of the door he wouldn’t move an inch.

Hyunjin leans into your ears, his eyes not once leaving the mirror where they remain locked with yours in a gaze brimming with enough heat to burn down everything around you. “I’ll leave but only if that’s what you truly want” he whispers, gently placing a warm hand to the soft skin of your chest.

Your heart picks up a speed only he can make it race at. The feeling’s a comfort to him. It’s the knowledge that even after all that happened you still feel what he does. There’s a fondness there that can’t be buried, it’ll always find its way back to the surface, but there’s something else too. Something he’s been able to hide from until this moment. You’re broken. Over the past few months you’ve done everything to pretend that you weren’t but you are and the pain has your eyes swelling with tears even as you fight to hold them at bay.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin!” you shout, bolting up from your chair just in time for a few tears to escape, “Since when have you ever cared what I truly want? It’s always been about you. All this will ever be about is you.”

Your anger’s boiling, hot tears staining your cheeks as you pace the floor. Usually on her wedding day a bride sheds tears of joy for her husband at the altar yet here you are full on weeping in front of his best man. Speechless, Hyunjin reaches out to grab your arm but you pull away from him, backing yourself into the furthest corner of the room.

“I don’t know why you’re here. I gave you everything and it wasn’t enough. What else do you want?”

Hyunjin watches you for a moment, letting your words flow through his veins like a poison of his own making. “I never said it wasn’t enough…”

“Oh, you never said it?” you scoff, “You’re right, you just said, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and then acted like nothing ever happened.”

“I was trying to do the right thing.”

“If that was ‘the right thing’ then what do you call this?”

You await an answer, hoping that for once he might have something worthwhile to say, but you’re met with silence. The same silence he’s offered you every day since he broke your heart. “

Typical” you mumble to yourself, returning to the vanity in a desperate search for tissues. Maybe if you grab them soon enough you can preserve some of what your makeup artist worked tirelessly to achieve. Drying your eyes you catch a glimpse of Hyunjin and for a fleeting moment he seems deflated, like he has something resembling feelings, but you made the mistake of believing that before and you can’t let yourself be fooled by it again.

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, every breath beginning to feel like hard labor. There’s something he’s been holding inside too and it’s aching to come out, it won’t let him breathe until it does. “You’re right, all this was ever about was me, but I never thought you weren’t enough. I loved you, I love you, I was just afraid you still loved him.”

Tossing your tissues aside, you turn to face him, arms folded across your chest. “You were afraid I still loved him when I was in your bed everyday?”

“And you crawled back into his every night” he says, a hint of bitterness slipping out, “I knew you’d leave him for me but for how long? I thought that if I ended things…if I told you to be with him instead you’d be happier.”

You take a deep breath, doing a regal twirl for him in your wedding dress, “Do I look happier without you?”

Hyunjin feels a tear wet his cheek and it stuns him, he hadn’t felt it coming yet there it is. “Do I look happier without you?” he shoots back, closing the distance between the two of you. “I know I’m the one who told you to stay but I can’t…I can’t stand there and let you marry him. He doesn’t treat you like you deserve to be treated. He can’t love you the way that I love you.”

Pinned against the table, his body too solidly planted to move, there’s nowhere for you to run to escape the truth. He slips his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest with little concern to the mascara threatening to stain his dress shirt. You let your head rest there and for a moment you can pretend that you’re somewhere else. Back at his apartment maybe, like all those times before, cuddled up against him on the couch talking about nothing as the hours melted away. You always felt so at peace there, so protected.

“They’re almost ready for you, darling!” a voice rings out as the door swings back open. The two of you scatter in opposite directions, unable to face one of your bridesmaids as she hurries into the room. She stops dead in her tracks, unsure what she’s walked into but positive it’s nothing good.

“Everything good in here?” she asks, digging for the truth where you wish she wouldn’t.

“Everything’s fine” you swear, painting on that forced smile again, “He was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin looks to you, unsure what to do. He can’t stay and fight for you, not in front of your bridesmaid, but what happens if he leaves? He has no choice but to see. “Yeah, I was just leaving, uh, good luck with everything.”

Your head drops as he dips back out into the hallway, leaving you to pick up the pieces all on your own but you can’t be mad at him, not for that. This is as much of your mess to clean up as it is his, if not moreso. You wish you could go back in time and do things differently but you can’t change the past and you can’t change what’s coming. Outside of that door hundreds of people are waiting for you. Your fiance’s waiting for you. The time for wishing has passed. It’s too late.

A city bus whips through the rain slicked streets, settling as it pulls up to the only bus stop for 15 minutes in either direction. Outside a small crowd of people forms a line, hidden under the cover of jackets or umbrellas. The weather mentioned a chance of light rain but it’s pouring hard enough to make an umbrella almost useless. The second the bus doors swing open they’re piling inside, rushing to pay their fare and escape the downpour. As they settle in their seats the bus driver readies himself to close the door and truck along to the next stop.

“Wait!” you shout, bolting through the rain to catch him before he peels off.

Luckily he stops, the sight of you likely being the highlight of his day. You’re standing in front of the bus stop in a wedding dress soaking wet with your heels in one hand and a small clutch in the other. You probably should’ve attempted to grab an umbrella, a jacket, something before you got here but when you’re darting out of a church on your wedding day you don’t particularly have time to raid the lost and found for survival supplies.

Completely out of breath, you climb onto the bus, attempting to wedge your toes back into your slippery shoes. “I’m sorry for holding you up sir but where does this bus go?”

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin’s calls from somewhere in the distance.

You peek off of the bus, spotting him not too far away. Your blood runs cold. If he knows where you are, who else does? There’s no time to find out.

“Nevermind” you say to the bus driver, fishing your fare out of your purse.

You pay for your ride and scurry to the back of the bus, flopping down into your seat. You’re in a panic, attempting to bring yourself down from the rush of anxiety that came from bolting the second your bridesmaid turned her head. It’s a difficult feat when all eyes are on you. You do your best to appear normal, play it off like any other day, but this isn’t any other day. Everyone can see that.

Their curiosity piques even more when Hyunjin hops on the bus, frantically paying before scanning the seats to find you. A sweet old lady points to the back and Hyunjin rushes towards you, heaving for air as he takes the seat beside you. The bus doors finally close, plodding down the street as the two of you sit at the back like two soggy Barbie dolls.

Staring out of the window, you watch the world pass you by, finding an odd comfort in the growing space between you and that church. There’s something therapeutic about leaving that place and everyone in it behind. Well, almost everyone. You can’t bring yourself to look at Hyunjin but he’s looking at you. Only at you. He watches you without expectations. There’s no pressure to speak, not even to acknowledge him, he only cares that you’re here and that he’s with you. Placing a hand on your knee, he shifts his attention to his own window, zoning out as the cars whoosh past, splashing rain onto the windows. You sit like this for the rest of the ride, trapped in your own worlds and tethered to each other’s all at the same time.

Everyone else must be searching for you right now. It’s likely that at first no one thought much of it. Someone would’ve suggested that you hadn’t heard the cue or might have run to the bathroom at the last minute. They would’ve sent your bridesmaids to search for you and the groomsmen next. Before long everyone would be in a panic trying to find you. You wonder how long it must’ve taken for them to notice that Hyunjin was missing too. It’s possible that they haven’t even asked that question yet, in too much of a frenzy to find you to think of it but when they do…

The bus comes to a sudden stop, bringing you back to earth where Hyunjin stands over you tugging at your hand. “Come on, this is our stop.”

You ask no questions, allowing him to guide you off of the bus and out onto a street corner you slowly begin to recognize. The rain has let up to a light sprinkle, the fresh post rain air a welcome change to the stuffiness of the bus. Looking around you spot a familiar restaurant. It’s the same one you used to grab breakfast from before heading to Hyunjin’s in the morning. Across the street is the park he’d take you to for picnics where you’d sit listening to music while he sketched the landscape in his notebook. His place is only a couple of minutes from here, you could find it with your eyes closed, but you let him lead the way, flashing an awkward smile at strangers whose gazes linger on you along the way.

Hyunjin keeps his hand glued to yours the entire time, not letting it go even as you climb the stairs leading to his apartment. Circumstances aside, it feels nice to have your hand in his again. The sex between you was amazing, each time more memorable than the last, but that wasn’t what he missed the most when you were apart. It was warming your hand with his on a cold day or feeling your noses brush when you kissed. The tiny things people take for granted until they lose them.

“Wait here” he says once you’re inside, disappearing down the hall and abandoning you to the silence of the living room.

The place is exactly as you remembered it. The black tufted couch with the fluffy purple star plushie on it. That guitar propped up in the corner that he swore he’d play for you one day but never got the chance to. Bookcases lined with everything from his precious manga to paint stained art history books. Art supplies scattered across the coffee table, a vase of fresh sunflowers positioned at the center.

You’re taken in by all of the new paintings. They’re darker than what he used to make and you try not to linger too much on the reason why. Hyunjin emerges from one of the rooms with a bundle of towels tucked under his arm. He wastes no time making his way back to you, tossing one over your head before you can react.

“Hyunjin” you giggle as he dries you off like a puppy he’s just given a bath. Your hair goes everywhere, the tiny flower clips throughout it clanking as they fall free and hit the oak wood floors.

He can’t contain his own laughter at how cute you are with your nose scrunched up like that, your laughter filling these walls for the first time in what seems to be an eternity. “What? I’m helping.”

“You call this helping?” you pout, snatching a towel and giving him the same treatment he gave you.

“Ouch, you’re gonna snap my neck!” he whines, twisting free of you. He runs to the other side of the room and you chase after him, draping the towel over his head and wildly tossing his hair around with it.

“What? I’m helping” you mock.

Hyunjin grabs you by the wrists, holding you in place, but your fingers still wiggle against his scalp and it tickles. “Stop it” he whispers, bringing you in close enough to watch the pink tint of his cheeks deepen. He says it like a dare masquerading as a threat and you’ve never been a girl opposed to taking Hyunjin’s bait.

“Or what?”

He turns your wrists loose, hands dropping down to cradle your face in his palms. The surprise of the contact makes your body tense but that only lasts for so long. In the blink of an eye you’re melting into his touch, a low hum of electricity buzzing through you from head to toe. Hyunjin takes a deep breath, staring into your eyes like he’s falling head first into your starry orbs. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

It’s not a question as much as it is a notice. His lips crash into yours, stealing the air from your lungs to fuel his. This isn’t this kiss you remember. It’s sweeter—deeper. Dripping with enough longing that you can taste it. Your hands traverse each other’s bodies like weary travelers in desperate search of home. A home that’s your fingertips pressed against his chest, tearing at the soaked material of his shirt. A home that’s his hands hungrily devouring your figure through your dress. You’re two planets colliding, every piece of one scattered throughout the other. Neither of you have ever wanted anything this badly. Nothing in this whole wide world.

“Hyunjin, wait” you somehow manage with his tongue still swirling around yours. You pry your lips free, tempted by how dangerously close to his they remain. “Are we really doing this? Are we…”

“We’re doing this but only if you want it. Do you?” he says softly, tracing the zipper of your dress.

Your body arches into him, a trail of fire left in the wake of his fingertips. “I do but first there’s something I need to do.”

“Something like what?” he asks and you catch seeds of panic blooming on that handsome face.

You pet his chest to soothe his worries, “Something I should’ve done a long time ago. I saw your car when we came in. Can I borrow it? Pretty please?”

Hyunjin studies your expression, doing his best to decipher exactly what’s going through your pretty little head. But he can’t say no to you, that’s never been a strength of his. Digging through his pockets, he finds his keys and holds them out to you, only to snatch them back at the last second. “Come back to me…for good this time.” With that he hands the keys over, stealing one more kiss before you head for the door.

Stopping in the doorway, you turn back to steal another glance at him. “For the record there was never any competition. It was always you.”

Hyunjin quirks his head at you, grinning as he nibbles at his bottom lip. “And it was always you. Always will be.”

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