#and wake him from his eternal slumber

[jasmancer]

sam reid is so right for interpreting lestat as a clown like yeah he's the court jester that everyone wants to fuck so badly he gets away with doing whatever he wants forever

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent. 

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself. 

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband  — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was. 

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too. 

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne. 

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you. 

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon. 

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion  — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger  shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned. 

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be. 

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you —  you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom. 

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair. 

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free. 

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care. 

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met. 

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily. 

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him. 

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base. 

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds. 

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form. 

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat. 

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you. 

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness. 

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there. 

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls. 

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss. 

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard.  “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him. 

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck  so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features. 

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake? 

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display. 

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for? 

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince. 

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.” 

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give. 

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.” 

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling. 

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour. 

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back. 

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised  — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit. 

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact. 

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through. 

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other. 

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon.  “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.” 

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit. 

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.” 

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt. 

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!”  strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too. 

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep  — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[tired-teacher-blog]

When your baby started kicking for the first time, you immediately sprinted towards your husband who was still deep in slumber in the comfort of your shared king sized bed, it was only 3:30 in the morning after all, a little too early to rise, and you would have been snuggled up to him if your bladder capacity hadn't prevented it for the third time that night.

_ "Katsuki wake up wake up, you have to feel this! It's moving!" you announced in a loud whisper while shaking him lightly.

_ "Huh what, what's moving? Do I need to blow it up?" he was obviously disoriented as he tried to blink the sleep away, knitting his eyebrows in concentration so he could focus his blurry vision on you.

_ "What? No, are you crazy?" you bursted out laughing at his unexpected response, and waited for him to gain full consciousness as he wobblily sat up to face you.

_ "Is everything okay?" he reached out to gently trace your cheek, and you could tell he was fully awake at last.

_ "Here, feel this," you took his other hand and placed it on your bulging tummy, "our baby is moving."

His eyes widened and his mouth hung open in obvious amazement, and you watched in awe as your husband's face lit up at the new feeling under his palm.

_ "This is real, we're actually having a baby." the wide, almost face-splitting smile appearing on his face was the same one he had when you announced your pregnancy a few months ago, and the warmth it evoked in you was also the same as back then.

_ "We are Katsuki." and you couldn't help the tears of joy welling up in your eyes as you watched the bliss radiating from him, placing your hands on top of his and holding on tightly.

That night -and every following night- he kept his hand on your belly when you climbed back to bed, holding you from behind and rubbing soothing patterns on your tightening skin while kissing your neck and whispering sweet 'I love you's' and promises for eternal happiness together, until you finally drifted off again.

[spxllcxstxr]

Cuddling with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you please write some jayvik x reader cuddling headcanons? I looooved your dating headcanons��🤭 -- anon

Warnings: heart melting fluff, that's literally all it is

A.N: Anon, I was delighted to get this request because I want to cuddle with jayvik at all times. Also I'm glad you liked the headcanons!! I hope you like these too!

•

Cuddling with your partners will forever be one of your favorite things. While Viktor may not be at ease with a lot of touch, that aspect seems to be pushed aside whenever the three of you are in bed

Viktor easily melts into Jayce's side, his face is usually flush with the crook of Jayce's neck, which makes it easy access for a peppering of kisses when he wakes up in the morning (he always wakes up the earliest, kisses Jayce, then you, before making his morning tea which he brings back to bed to slowly sip as he waits for his loves to rise)

Additionally, Viktor lays his hand in the middle of Jayce's chest, to feel his heartbeat or to feel up his muscles, no one knows and he’ll never tell. However, your own hand meets his at Jayce's core. The night usually starts with your hand on top of his, but some time during your slumber your hands swap, and Viktor's warm palm is placed atop the back of your hand, slender fingers grasping onto you

No matter how many times you wake up to this, the tenderness of the moment will forever make your face heat up and your heart beat rapidly

Viktor runs cold and Jayce is as warm as a furnace, so that really explains why Vik is always huddled up close to him

On the other side of Jayce lies you, also huddled up to his side. Jayce's arm is wrapped around you, fingers tracing random shapes or equations on the small of your back. It’s oddly comforting—his fingers dancing across your skin. It sometimes feels like he may be writing paragraphs of something familiar, something you can almost make out, but you’re never able to

(Jayce will never admit this to anyone, but there are times he traces letter on your skin as you fall asleep. Letters that make up admissions of love, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. His fingertips will tell how much he cherishes your love and adores Viktor’s trust in him. Sometimes they spell out what he hopes is your future together—the three of you, bound by love and loyalty for eternity. It helps him fall asleep)

Jayce honestly doesn't mind at all that he is squished in between his partners because he gets to touch the both of you. He gets to know that the people he loves are alive--are with him. Jayce enjoys knowing that Viktor has returned from the lab unscathed and that whatever the poison is that lurks below them and loomed over Viktor's childhood hasn't killed him. Jayce feels as if when the two of you are tucked securely at his side, the three of you are untouchable. He loves feeling your soft skin underneath his calloused fingertips, the warmth of your breath tickling the delicate skin under his ear

His heart beats below the tangled hands of his partners and that's all he wants

While that is how the three of you are usually organized in bed, with Jayce in the middle, that doesn't mean you never directly cuddle with Viktor. There are times where Jayce is out, with the council or another sort of meeting, and you and Viktor have the apartment to yourselves. Usually the two of you will be reading (sometimes Viktor will read to you, sometimes you will read to him if he's too exhausted). Who's cuddling into who will depend on who's reading aloud to the other. But more often than not, the two of you will cuddle in a way where both sets of eyes can see the text

Viktor smells of the air after a heavy rain on days he doesn’t come home smelling of grease and metal. But even then, his scent is his own and addictive nonetheless

Your voices will be soft in the other's ear, which usually causes you to drift off to sleep. Jayce will come back to find the two of you heaped together, heads close together

You and Jayce are the ones that crave cuddles every hour of the day. Viktor pretends he doesn't, usually rolling his eyes when you ask for him to get his ass in bed. But then Jayce whips out those wide golden eyes and Viktor is easily pulled to bed

There is also some casual cuddling outside of the bedroom. Pulling the two of them from their work is difficult, but once you convince Jayce, it's all over

Jayce is also the type to sit on his desk in the lab with either you or Viktor between his legs, arms wrapped around your torso.

Viktor likes to complain, citing that it's a distraction, but once Jayce envelopes either of you in his arms, there's no escape

Knowing that every night ends with the three of you in bed holding onto each other is what fuels the three of you. In the end, everything is worth it; everything leads to the love the three of you have for one another. Nothing else matters except for the sweet and soft touch of your partners.

•

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: My Knight is Too Loyal || Sebek Zigvolt

You wake up as the villainess in a novel that had to be written as a joke. The heroine is trying to ruin your life, but if you refuse to acknowledge her, then it’s not happening. Right? …Right??

It doesn't help that your knight, Sebek, is annoyingly endearing.

Series Masterlist

You were finally done.

After a grueling week of unpacking, assembling furniture that came with instructions written in an eldritch language, and resisting the urge to commit arson when you realized your kitchen had exactly one electrical outlet, your new apartment was finally livable. Spacious, well-lit, and with an actual window that didn’t face another building? A true luxury.

With a sigh of contentment, you set your trusty roomba loose to clean up the dust bunnies while you kicked back with your favorite pastime—reading an absolutely garbage webnovel.

This particular one had come highly recommended in the “so bad it’s good” category, and hoo boy, did it deliver.

The plot, as far as you could tell, was this:

Prince Malleus (overpowered second male lead) was best friends with the villainess (actually cool).

Sebek, loyal knight, was also sworn to protect the villainess. He liked her. They were childhood friends. He was ride or die for her.

Enter the heroine, who spawned out of nowhere, latched onto Malleus, and immediately decided that she needed Sebek’s loyalty so she could get closer to him.

She then proceeded to sabotage the villainess at every turn, and somehow no one thought this was weird.

The villainess, kept fighting back—until she got poisoned on Sebek’s watch.

Sebek, devastated, exiled himself in disgrace.

And then the Duke of the North (where did he come from???) married the heroine.

You had to put your phone down because you were WHEEZING.

How. HOW???

How was this woman out here killing the prince's best friend and still pulling a wedding out of it?? Who was writing this? Why did Sebek go into self-imposed exile when the obvious answer was to punt the heroine into the sun???

You wiped a tear from your eye, clutching your stomach. "Exiled himself in disgrace—oh my god, bro, what are you doing—"

Feeling the desperate need for a snack to recover from this literary war crime, you got up and made your way to the kitchen.

At that moment, your roomba—your once-trusted ally in the battle against dust—made a choice.

It bumped into the precariously stacked pile of moving boxes you had yet to sort through.

You turned just in time to see your doom.

A full avalanche of books, kitchenware, and your entire collection of novelty mugs came crashing down on you.

Your last thought before the world faded to black?

"Should’ve never trusted a roomba."

There were several ways you expected to wake up. A soft ray of sunlight filtering through your curtains? Sure. The soothing sound of birds chirping? Ideal. Maybe even a hangover if past-you made bad decisions? Understandable.

What you did not expect was to be jolted out of unconsciousness by the auditory equivalent of an angry airhorn.

“LORD MALLEUS, SHE'S STILL UNCONSCIOUS—PERHAPS SHE HAS FALLEN INTO AN ETERNAL SLUMBER FROM WHICH SHE WILL NEVER—!!!”

“Sebek,” another voice interrupted, eerily calm in comparison. “It will be fine.”

Sebek?

Like. The Sebek?

Your eyes snapped open like a possessed doll in a horror movie, and standing in front of you were none other than—drumroll please—Malleus Draconia and Sebek Zigvolt, looking like they had been ripped straight out of that godawful webnovel.

Sebek was vibrating with fury, looking a split second away from detonating like a nuclear warhead. Malleus, meanwhile, seemed vaguely relieved that you were awake.

Your brain struggled to reboot.

You looked down. Fancy dress? Check. Lace gloves? Check. Suspiciously villainous vibes? Check.

Oh no.

OH NO.

You were the villainess.

Malleus, in his infinite patience, took your absolutely deranged expression as a cue to explain, “The heroine tripped you, and you lost consciousness.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You covered your face with your hands. “So now I have to deal with that dumbass?”

Sebek immediately whipped out his glove, preparing to slap someone into another dimension. “THIS INSOLENCE CANNOT STAND. I SHALL CHALLENGE HER TO A DUEL AND—”

“Sebek, no.”

“—VANQUISH HER FOR DARING TO—”

“Sebek. Put the glove down.”

“—BESMIRCH YOUR HONOR, MY LADY—”

“Sebek. No.”

Malleus, amused, simply observed as if watching an entertaining stage play. Probably because his solution would be to turn the heroine into a very apologetic pile of ashes.

Sebek begrudgingly reabsorbed his rage (for now), but he was still seething.

Malleus, after ensuring you were probably not about to die, excused himself and left the room. Sebek remained, arms crossed, radiating enough protective energy to function as a personal bodyguard and a security alarm.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Sebek, from now on, I’m just going to ignore her.”

Sebek visibly short-circuited.

“You—you're just going to let this blatant disrespect slide???”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Yes.”

He looked like he had been personally betrayed by the laws of honor and decency, but after a long moment, he reluctantly agreed. Probably because you had the final say in this.

As soon as he left the room, you immediately face-planted into your pillow and let out the most guttural, despairing scream of your life.

Then, with great suffering, you dragged yourself up, because it was officially time to make a game plan to survive this absolute trash novel.

You did not want to go to this tea party.

In fact, if given the choice between enduring this or being launched via medieval trebuchet into the ocean, you would’ve chosen the ocean. At least drowning would’ve been fast.

But no. Your father insisted.

Something about “maintaining your standing,” and “showing the nobility that you are still strong,” and “not letting some lowborn upstart make a fool of you.”

As if the heroine had any power over you besides the supernatural ability to generate plot conveniences. As if you weren’t already suffering enough in this stupid novel, trying to survive a romance plotline with all the grace of a cat thrown into a bathtub.

And thus, you found yourself seated at an expensive table, sipping lukewarm tea, pretending to be interested in whatever the hell the noble ladies were talking about while resisting the urge to flip the entire table over and walk out.

To make matters worse, Sebek was having an existential crisis.

Not that he’d admit it, of course. But the way he was standing, practically vibrating with tension, scanning the tea party like a very aggressive meerkat—yeah. It was bad.

Sebek was on edge.

At any given moment, his gaze would dart from one thing to another, as if expecting a chandelier to drop on your head, a poisoned biscuit to be slipped onto your plate, or a rogue assassin to emerge from the hedges wielding a butter knife.

You finally had enough.

Turning toward him, you gripped his shoulders. Firmly.

“Sebek.”

His eyes snapped to you.

“Buddy.” You gave him a little shake. “Friend. You need to chill.”

“I AM PERFECTLY COMPOSED—”

Shake, shake. “Sebek. Chill.”

Sebek blinked. For the first time in history, he shut his mouth.

And then—oddly enough—you saw pink.

Like, an actual blush. A faint, barely-there dusting of color across his cheeks, the kind you’d associate with a lovestruck noble maiden, not a half-fae knight who could probably break your spine with his bare hands.

For a moment, you wondered if he was overheating. Should you dunk him in ice water?

But miraculously, Sebek actually calmed down.

At least, he stopped looking like he was about to tackle a waiter for breathing too close to you. That was progress.

And just when you thought you could finally coast through the rest of this miserable tea party in peace—

You saw her.

The Heroine.

She was across the garden, standing under a carefully curated arrangement of roses, twirling a delicate teacup in her dainty hands, looking exactly as picturesque as a main character should.

And she was batting her eyelashes at Sebek.

Like a lot.

Like some kind of malfunctioning Victorian doll trying to send Morse code with her eyelids.

Sebek, for his part, was slowly backing away. It was clear he wanted nothing to do with her.

Unfortunately, his retreat only seemed to embolden the heroine further. As if she had mistaken his disgust for shyness.

Sebek Zigzagged.

She Zigzagged.

Sebek took a sharp left.

She matched him, too fast, like an NPC with broken pathing.

And that’s when you decided enough was enough.

With the most subtle movement possible, you lifted a hand and motioned for him to come to you.

Sebek sprinted.

Like, full-speed, knocking over at least one butler in the process sprinted. By the time he reached you, he was breathing hard, eyes wide like he had just escaped something truly horrifying.

“Sebek,” you said, voice casual, “Stick by my side.”

"UNDERSTOOD," he immediately responded, standing directly next to you like a sentient stone wall.

And thus began the worst tea party of the heroine’s life.

For months, the heroine had followed the same battle strategy.

She’d make small, calculated jabs at you—little insults hidden under layers of fake concern, “Oh, you look rather pale today, are you unwell?” or “That color looks so… unique on you! Not many would be bold enough to wear it!”

The old villainess would always take the bait.

She’d snap back, argue, cause a scene. And in the process, the heroine would look like the poor, innocent victim just trying her best to be kind.

But you?

You ignored her.

And that? That was unacceptable.

The first attempt was a comment about your shoes.

She tilted her head, voice sickly sweet. “Oh, those shoes are… interesting. Are they custom-made?”

You blinked.

That was it. Just blinked.

Nothing more.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you turned to Sebek and pointed at the cake.

"Sebek, do you want some cake?"

“OF COURSE—”

The heroine twitched.

The second attempt was a jab at your hair.

She giggled, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Oh dear, your hair looks a little tangled today! Perhaps you should try this new serum I discovered—”

You did not react.

Instead, you casually picked up a sugar cube, inspected it like it was the most fascinating thing in existence, and dropped it into your tea.

Then you slowly turned away.

Like she was scenery.

Like she was part of the background.

The heroine’s eye twitched.

Then came the third and final straw.

She physically stood in your path.

Like, full-on NPC blocking a hallway in a video game levels of obstructive.

Waiting.

Wanting you to react.

You did not.

You simply stepped to the left and walked around her.

As if she were a particularly annoying potted plant.

That was it.

That was the moment.

The moment she realized you were not playing her game.

And she SNAPPED.

In a last-ditch effort, she actually grabbed at your dress like a cranky toddler in a tantrum. Unfortunately for her, you were faster.

With all the grace of a trained assassin, you sidestepped her so effortlessly that she nearly tripped forward. For one horrifying second, she flailed—arms windmilling—before catching herself.

Then, with a furious huff, she turned bright red, grabbed her skirts, and stormed out of the tea party.

Absolutely. Defeated.

The entire garden was dead silent.

Then, softly, Sebek cleared his throat.

“…Does this mean I can have another slice of cake?”

You took a victorious sip of your tea.

+1 point for you.

This was a mistake. A grave, sweaty mistake.

Sebek, in all his knightly wisdom, had decided that you needed to learn self-defense. That was fine in theory. In practice?

You were dying.

It had started simple—stance, grip, footwork. Except your stance was wobbly, your grip was weak, and your footwork consisted of tripping over absolutely nothing .

Sebek, ever the determined instructor, refused to give up on you.

“Again!” he barked, adjusting your posture for the hundredth time. “You must hold the blade firmly!”

You tried. You really did. But the moment he stepped back, the sword dipped dangerously in your grasp like it was actively trying to escape you.

Sebek sighed through his nose. “You need to engage your core!”

“Sebek,” you panted, struggling to lift the sword back up. “I have a core. It just doesn’t want to engage.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose like a disappointed tutor watching their pupil fail basic math.

“Again.”

You half-heartedly swung the sword. It wobbled like a particularly useless noodle.

Sebek looked physically pained.

After several more embarrassing attempts—including a particularly tragic one where you almost dropped the sword on your own foot—you finally gave up.

You collapsed onto the ground, dramatically splaying out in the dirt like a knight who had perished not in battle, but in sheer spiritual defeat.

“I can’t do this,” you groaned, flopping an arm over your face. “I’m not built for the knight life.”

Sebek’s shadow loomed over you, exasperated. “You’re giving up already?”

“Yes.”

“Unacceptable. A true warrior never surrenders!”

“Well, I’m not a warrior, Sebek. I am a delicate aristocrat. My hobbies include drinking tea and not getting stabbed.”

Sebek crossed his arms, preparing to argue—but before he could launch into a speech about honor and duty and the sacred art of not dying, you simply muttered:

“That’s why you have to be my knight forever.”

The complaints instantly stopped.

Sebek didn’t say a word.

You assumed he had accepted your logic.

You didn’t see the way his back straightened slightly, or the way his expression softened into something oddly pleased. You definitely didn’t catch the way a smug, satisfied little smile flickered across his face—like a knight who had just secured his lifelong oath without even trying.

Instead, you remained on the ground, still dramatically sprawled out, waiting for him to launch into another lecture.

But nothing came.

“…Sebek?”

“Hmph.” He turned, suddenly far too content to argue. “If that is the case, then I suppose there’s no need to force you into training.”

You squinted up at him. “Wait. That’s it? You’re giving up?”

“I am merely accepting my duty,” he said smoothly. “After all, a knight must always protect their charge.”

You stared.

Suspicious.

Sebek was never this agreeable.

But, ultimately, you were too tired to question it.

With a sigh of relief, you let yourself fully relax into the grass, already looking forward to a nap.

Meanwhile, Sebek stood guard over you, looking far too smug for someone who had just lost an argument.

This was supposed to be a normal afternoon.

A nice, quiet, peaceful moment of watching Sebek ride his horse like he was leading an army into battle while Silver sat on his, perfectly relaxed, looking like the human embodiment of a soft exhale.

Meanwhile, to your right, Malleus and Lilia were having a debate that was growing increasingly unhinged.

"I'm telling you, Malleus," Lilia said with the confidence of a man who had never once been stopped from committing a crime. "If you want someone, you simply steal them away! That’s romance!"

Malleus, who had the power to obliterate reality with a flick of his wrist, rubbed his temples like a deeply tired office worker. "Lilia, that is not romance. That is abduction."

Lilia waved him off like he was swatting at a fly. "Semantics."

You turned your head just in time to see Malleus pinching the bridge of his nose, which was deeply funny because what did he even have to be stressed about? He was practically untouchable. And yet, somehow, Lilia was succeeding in emotionally exhausting him.

You had no idea how to contribute to this conversation, so you simply accepted that your afternoon would be full of crimes against logic.

But then Lilia’s sharp, ancient gaze zeroed in on you like a sniper locking onto a target.

"So," he said smoothly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Have you decided who you'll take to the ball?"

You blinked.

The ball? Oh. Right. That was a thing.

You mulled it over for a second, tapping your fingers against your knee.

Logically, Sebek was already glued to your side at all times. He was practically your own personal security alarm, complete with flashing lights, blaring sirens, and the sheer, undying volume of a man who had never whispered in his entire life.

Taking him would be easy.

"I'll probably take Sebek," you said casually.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

Lilia’s smile widened.

Not just any smile. A knowing smile. The kind that said, I have seen civilizations rise and fall, and yet nothing amuses me more than whatever is about to happen next.

Malleus, previously neutral, now looked deeply, deeply intrigued.

You squinted at them. "Why are you both looking at me like I'm a stray dog that just solved a math problem?"

Before you could demand answers, Sebek and Silver came back.

And Lilia—menace incarnate—immediately turned to Sebek and declared, with the utmost delight:

"Sebek! You've been chosen as their escort for the ball!"

Silver looked politely interested. Sebek—

Sebek crashed.

Like he hit an invisible wall.

For a second, he just stood there, expression frozen in a mix of shock, honor, and the sheer terror of being handed a social situation he wasn’t prepared for.

Then, in a grand act of buffering, he stiffened, clenched his fists, and proclaimed with all the force of a man declaring war:

"OF COURSE! AS YOUR LOYAL KNIGHT, IT IS ONLY NATURAL THAT I ACCOMPANY YOU!"

And then—before you could so much as blink—he turned on his heel and stomped off, as if he had just been given an urgent mission from Malleus himself.

The moment he was gone, you turned back to the three remaining culprits—only to find all of them looking at you like you were the underdog in a sports movie who had just pulled off a game-winning shot.

Lilia’s grin was downright diabolical.

Malleus was observing you like a scientist who had just discovered a new species.

Silver nodded, as if he had been let in on a joke you weren’t privy to.

Your eye twitched. "Okay. WHAT."

Lilia clapped you on the back like a proud father. "Oh, don’t mind us," he said airily. "We’re simply excited to see how this unfolds!"

Malleus inclined his head. "Indeed. It will be most… fascinating."

Silver hummed in agreement, eyes twinkling with something dangerously close to amusement.

You stared.

Sebek was still stomping off in the distance, probably preparing himself for battle against an imaginary threat.

Meanwhile, these three looked like they had just bet on a winning horse.

You were so bored.

As someone who had once lived in the glorious era of internet, memes, and instant entertainment, being isekai’d into a medieval fantasy novel was actual hell.

Your choices for passing the time were:

Sitting at a tea party listening to Lady Whatever gossip about how her second cousin’s neighbor allegedly married his horse (scandalous).

Shopping, which involved pretending to care about embroidery while avoiding getting guilt-tripped into buying a hat the size of a carriage wheel.

But today? Today was different.

There was a theater performance. And you were going.

Sebek, of course, was accompanying you, because you weren’t allowed to go anywhere without your personal security system.

The two of you arrived, found your seats, and settled in as the play began.

It was a forbidden romance between a noblewoman and her loyal knight.

You squinted.

That was it? That was the forbidden part?

What, was it slightly inconvenient for them to date? Were they going to act like this was the most tragic love story of all time when the biggest obstacle was mild disapproval?

You were expecting a real problem—an ancient family feud, a cursed bloodline, maybe even a dragon kidnapping someone for fun.

But no. It was just a noble and her knight, staring deeply into each other’s eyes while the orchestra swelled dramatically.

You side-eyed Sebek, about to make a snide comment.

And that’s when you noticed. Sebek was sweating.

His jaw was clenched. His hands were gripping the arms of his seat like the very concept of upholstery had personally insulted him.

And most importantly?

He was actively avoiding looking at you.

On stage, the knight fell to one knee, passionately declaring, “My lady, I have sworn to protect you—but in truth, my heart has belonged to you from the moment we met.”

Sebek’s grip on his seat tightened.

You turned back to the stage, more confused now.

The noblewoman gasped, placing a delicate hand on her chest. “Sir Knight, I—!”

Cue dramatic embrace. Cue Sebek looking like he was experiencing an existential crisis in real time.

For the next twenty minutes, Sebek refused to so much as glance in your direction.

The show ended with a completely unnecessary death scene (the knight got stabbed protecting the noblewoman from a bandit with the world’s worst aim), and as soon as the curtains fell, Sebek practically launched himself out of his seat.

You walked out together, the evening air cool against your skin.

Sebek, still refusing to look at you, was marching forward with the kind of stiff, overly formal movements that meant his brain was short-circuiting.

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you good?"

"I am perfectly fine," he said, a little too quickly.

You shrugged, brushing it off. Sebek being Sebek. He was always like this.

You didn’t notice how his hands twitched at his sides.

Or how, for one painfully fleeting moment during the play, he had imagined what it would be like—just once—to take your hand, without the excuse of duty.

But only Sebek and the dark theater would ever know that.

Festivals were supposed to be fun.

Supposed to be.

But for Sebek, this was nothing short of a battlefield.

The night had started normally enough. Malleus, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and you had all arrived together, the festival in full swing around you. Lanterns glowed softly in the trees, music played from all corners of the square, and the air was thick with the smell of food—grilled meats, sweet pastries, roasted nuts. It was the perfect evening for a carefree stroll.

And then, suspiciously quickly, things took a turn.

“Ah,” Lilia suddenly said, snapping his fingers. “I just remembered—I must go investigate the historical significance of festival games.”

Silver, who had been mid-bite into a fried pastry, blinked. “What?”

Lilia was already gone.

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed, I must also depart. There are… matters of great importance I must attend to.”

You stared at him. “You’re about to go stare at gargoyles, aren’t you?”

Malleus did not dignify this with an answer.

Then came Silver’s turn. He at least tried to make it convincing.

“I, um—” He paused, brain clearly short-circuiting. “I have to—”

Sebek, ever the loyal soldier, stepped forward. “SILVER, WHEREVER YOU GO, WE SHALL—”

Silver immediately put a hand on Sebek’s shoulder. “No. You both stay.”

Sebek froze.

Suspicion bloomed in his sharp green eyes. “Why?”

Silver looked at you. Then back at Sebek. Then at you again. And then—like a father setting his son off into the world—he simply patted Sebek’s shoulder and said, “Have fun.”

Then he left.

Just like that, you and Sebek were alone.

You turned to Sebek, shrugged, and grabbed his hand. “Alright then! Let’s go have fun.”

Sebek ascended into a new state of panic.

One: You Held His Hand.

His hand.

Which was now holding your hand.

He was a knight. A protector. His hand had wielded swords, raised shields, sworn loyalty—

His hand had never done this.

“W-Wait, I—!”

You, completely oblivious to the fact that you were literally ruining him, simply smiled. “Come on, let’s get food first!”

And just like that, he was dragged into the festival.

Two: You Fed Him.

Sebek had prepared for many things in life.

Betrayal? Yes. Combat? Absolutely. The burden of responsibility? Without question.

But he had not prepared for you pressing a warm pastry into his hands and saying, “Try this! It’s really good.”

He stared at it like it was an enemy.

“I—this is unnecessary! I should be watching for threats, not—”

Then you, with absolutely zero hesitation, took a bite from your own pastry, hummed thoughtfully, and then just—just held it up to his mouth.

Sebek froze.

“…What,” he said, voice dangerously unstable, “are you doing?”

“Letting you try mine.”

Unacceptable.

UNACCEPTABLE.

This was wrong. You were a noble, he was your knight. His duty was to protect you, not to—to—

To have feelings.

To want things.

But you were still holding the pastry up, completely unaware of the sheer war happening in his mind.

So, with the slow hesitation of a man walking into a death trap, Sebek leaned down and took a small, precise bite.

…It was delicious.

…This was still unacceptable.

“See?” you said brightly, taking another bite yourself. “Tastes better when you share.”

Sebek almost dropped dead on the spot.

Three: The Smile.

Oh, that smile.

You were leading him from stall to stall, still holding his hand, still treating this like a perfectly normal outing and not the absolute nightmare it was for his fragile, suffering heart.

And every time you turned back to him—every time you laughed at something ridiculous, or smiled when he grumbled about stall vendors trying to scam you, or simply looked at him with that casual, easy warmth—

Something in him broke.

Not in a bad way. But absolutely in a way that would jeopardize his purpose. In the way that made him want to 1v1 the entire world just to make sure you always smiled like that.

Sebek was not meant for this.

He was a knight. A warrior. A protector.

He was not meant to look at you and wish, with every inch of his being, that he could hold your hand not because of duty, but because you wanted him to.

The ball was going well.

Which, frankly, was a miracle.

You were three glasses of wine in, the music was pleasant, and—most importantly—there was no heroine in sight.

Malleus was at peace, sipping his drink like an ancient dragon who had finally hoarded enough gold. Lilia was across the room, very seriously trying to convince a noble to invest in bat jousting (“Picture it, my dear baron—tiny suits of armor, high-speed aerial combat, think of the prestige!”). Silver was half-asleep at the table, so still that he was practically furniture.

And Sebek? Sebek was eating with the sheer intensity of a man who had never been allowed to sit and enjoy a meal in his life.

You were basking in the rare moment of peace when—

She arrived.

The heroine waltzed in, all curls and delicate elegance, scanning the room like she owned the place.

Immediately, you activated Ignore Mode.

But then—

Then she spoke.

“I challenge you!”

You blinked.

Challenge me to what? A duel? A political debate? A staring contest??

And then, with the smuggest expression known to man, she stepped aside to reveal her new(?) knight. You choked on your drink.

Because her knight—

Looked like Sebek.

Like, exactly like Sebek.

Same height, same build, suspiciously similar armor—but the worst part?

His hair was green.

Like she had dyed it.

You nearly dropped your wine.

You turned to Sebek.

Then to knockoff Sebek.

Then to Malleus—who was so absorbed in his perfect night that he hadn’t even registered the incoming disaster.

Then back to fake Sebek.

Sebek, who had been peacefully eating his steak, suddenly froze.

“WHAT IN THE GREAT SEVEN—” His chair scraped across the floor as he stood, eyes wide with pure fury.

The heroine beamed. “My knight will prove his superiority over yours! A true battle of skill and honor!”

You were still stuck on the hair.

"DID YOU DYE THIS MAN’S HAIR GREEN?!"

Fake Sebek smirked, folding his arms. “A knight should be willing to make sacrifices for his lady.”

Sebek looked ready to commit several war crimes.

“This is an INSULT!” He stepped forward, eyes blazing, voice booming. “YOU THINK YOU CAN MATCH ME WITH A PALE IMITATION?! I—”

Oh, hell no.

You had already suffered through so much stupidity in this world. You were not about to let Sebek engage in a battle of the bootlegs just because the heroine had gone completely off the rails.

You grabbed Sebek’s arm.

He whipped around like an enraged storm god. “MY LADY, I MUST—”

“No,” you said flatly. “Not worth it.”

“But—”

“Sebek.”

“She—”

“Sebek.”

“She dares—”

“Sebek. Please.”

His jaw locked. He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he needed to argue. But then you let out a long, exhausted sigh and said,

“Just dance with me instead.”

Sebek stopped breathing.

The entire ballroom faded. The heroine? Gone. Bootleg Sebek? Who? The audience of nosy nobles? Irrelevant.

All that mattered was that you—the person he had sworn to protect, the one he had dedicated his entire being to—had just asked him to dance.

He swallowed thickly. “O-Of course.”

And so, you took his hand and led him to the ballroom floor.

Sebek was stiff at first, like he was concentrating too hard on being perfect, but as the music swelled, he relaxed into the rhythm, his movements smoother, more natural.

And as he guided you across the floor, one hand firm at your waist, the other clasping yours, Sebek couldn’t help but stare.

You were laughing softly, still tipsy, the golden chandeliers casting a warm glow on your skin. The silk of your gown shimmered as you moved, and your smile—

Gods. Your smile.

Sebek knew, without a doubt, that he would do anything to keep it on your face.

And you?

You had no idea.

Because to you, this was just a dance.

But to Sebek—

You looked like a dream come true.

It was finally here. The moment where, according to the absolute literary war crime that was this novel, you were supposed to get poisoned, collapse dramatically, and set off a chain reaction that would end with Sebek exiling himself like a tragic Shakespearean protagonist.

Except this time?

You knew it was coming.

And you were about to flip the script so hard the author would feel it in whatever dimension they were in.

The heroine, as predictable as ever, had invited you to yet another tea party—probably hoping that by the time the poison kicked in, she'd have a perfect view of your untimely demise. You, of course, had accepted with a sweet smile and a mind full of schemes.

Now, seated at a pristine garden table with floral arrangements worth more than some small villages, you watched as she made her move. It was almost laughable how obvious she was. Her eyes flickered towards the maid as your tea was poured, the subtle anticipation in her expression so transparent you were honestly a little embarrassed for her.

You daintily lifted the cup, swirling the tea, inhaling its floral scent. Then, you pretended to take a sip.

Then, you threw yourself into the most dramatic, gut-wrenching, Oscar-worthy performance of your life.

Your body convulsed. Your hand flew to your throat. You gasped, choked, wheezed like a dying fish, and flung your arms out as if desperately grasping at the heavens themselves. You knocked over a plate. A fork clattered to the ground. A lesser noble screamed.

And then, with the grace of a Victorian woman in a corset two sizes too small, you collapsed onto the ground, limbs twitching for good measure.

Chaos erupted.

Ladies shrieked. Servants scrambled. One elderly duke fainted in the background. Even you were impressed. If this world had award shows, you would’ve already been giving an acceptance speech.

And then.

You heard it.

A chair screeching against stone. The heavy, unmistakable clang of armor.

Oh.

Oh, no.

You had made a critical miscalculation.

Sebek.

Sebek, who had been standing behind you the entire time. Sebek, who had just witnessed his charge collapse in agony.

Sebek, who was now standing over the heroine with his sword at her throat.

The entire tea party came to a screeching halt.

The heroine was frozen in terror, because Sebek wasn’t just angry—he was absolutely seething. His hands were steady, his grip unwavering, but the rage in his eyes? The barely-restrained fury crackling in the air around him? That was the look of a man seconds away from turning this entire tea party into a medieval execution.

“How dare you,” Sebek growled, his voice low and deadly, “I swear upon my honor—you will not leave this garden alive.”

You were so close to victory. So close. But no. No, Sebek had to go and initiate an actual murder.

The heroine, pale as a ghost, opened her mouth—probably to sob out some terrible excuse—but Sebek applied just the tiniest bit of pressure with his blade. A thin line of blood beaded at her neck.

The heroine whimpered.

Sebek narrowed his eyes.

Oh, he was fully committed to this.

Then, from your position on the ground, you made a small choking noise.

Sebek snapped around so fast he nearly decapitated her anyway.

His fury instantly shifted into sheer, unfiltered panic.

“My lady—!” He abandoned the heroine entirely, dropping to his knees and scooping you up into his arms as if you were seconds from death. "Stay with me!" His voice wavered, as if sheer willpower alone could force you to keep breathing. "You will not die here, I swear it!"

Okay. Maybe you should have accounted for this.

Before you could get a word in, Sebek scooped you up like a sack of potatoes and booked it inside.

The moment he deposited you onto a chaise lounge like a damsel in distress, you sat up and gave him your best sheepish grin.

“Sebek, I—”

But Sebek did not look relieved.

Sebek looked furious.

"You mean to tell me," he began, his voice escalating, "THAT WAS A LIE?!"

You winced. “Sebek, I—”

"You were NEVER in danger?! NEVER TRULY POISONED?!" His entire body was vibrating. "YOU—"

His voice kept rising.

He was pacing now, movements erratic, his heavy boots thudding against the floor. His breathing was uneven. His hands were shaking.

Gods. Gods, you felt bad.

Before he could work himself into an early grave, you grabbed his face and pulled him close.

"Sebek," you said firmly. "Breathe."

His breath hitched.

You could feel the tension in his jaw, the way his entire being was still radiating panic and betrayal.

Slowly, his breathing evened out. His hands, still clenched at his sides, relaxed.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks. "I should have told you."

Sebek swallowed hard, staring at you like he had just walked through hell itself.

"I could never bear to lose you." His voice was raw, barely above a whisper.

And then, as if exhaling the weight of the entire world, he bowed his head slightly and said, “Forgive me for my insolence.”

Before you could even process what that meant—

His lips were on yours.

Soft, hesitant, yet utterly consuming.

It lasted one perfect moment—

And then reality kicked in.

Sebek stiffened. His eyes snapped open.

"I— I HAVE OVERSTEPPED— I APOLOGIZE—"

And then.

Sebek fled.

Full-speed.

Out the door.

Down the hall.

Possibly into another plane of existence.

You sat there, dazed, stunned, blushing so hard you were about to burst into flames.

-

You were losing your mind.

Malleus, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

He sat there, sipping his tea with the serene patience of a man who had definitely seen this coming, while you paced back and forth in front of him, unraveling like a badly-knitted sweater.

"It was just stress!" you declared, throwing your hands in the air. "Right? I mean, high emotions, near-death experience, classic knightly panic—textbook impulse decision!"

Malleus hummed, his expression one of deep, profound amusement. "Oh?"

You pointed at him like you had just presented irrefutable evidence in a murder trial. "YES. Right?! That has to be it!"

Malleus took a slow sip of his tea. "Or…"

You froze.

Malleus paused dramatically—like he was a host on some medieval reality show about to drop a major plot twist—then said, "Perhaps he has feelings for you."

You made a noise. A noise that had never existed before, somewhere between a gasp, a wheeze, and the sound of a tea kettle violently exploding.

Malleus raised an eyebrow, watching as your soul actively left your body.

"That’s—" You flailed. Actually flailed. "That’s absurd!"

Malleus nodded sagely. "Yes. Very absurd." He took another sip of tea, his tone so dry you nearly threw something at him.

You began pacing again, hands on your head, thoughts spiraling into the abyss.

"Maybe—maybe he thinks he has feelings for me," you reasoned, grasping at straws like your life depended on it. "But really, it’s just—devotion! Yes! Classic knightly devotion! It’s not romantic, it’s duty! He admires me, respects me, honors me—"

"—Kissed you."

You choked.

Malleus was smirking now. He was actually enjoying this.

"Okay, but," you continued, desperately trying to dig yourself out of the emotional pit you had fallen into, "what if—what if it was just a slip-up? A moment of weakness? What if he didn’t mean it—?"

Malleus tilted his head. "Then why did he run away? Why did he not apologize?"

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Because he did run away. Full speed. Maximum acceleration. Like a man who had just realized what he had done and could not face the consequences.

Your hands slowly lowered from your head.

Malleus set his teacup down with a soft clink. "I would say that is not the behavior of a man who does not have feelings for someone."

You sat down in the nearest chair, staring into the void.

Malleus observed you with quiet satisfaction.

The way you were actively short-circuiting before his eyes? The absolute catastrophic mental gymnastics you were performing to deny the obvious?

Oh, yes.

This was better than theater.

Meanwhile, Sebek was also suffering.

And Lilia was having the best day of his life.

Sebek was pacing, marching back and forth across the room like he was preparing for battle, arms gesturing wildly as he ranted to no one in particular.

"I—I do not—I cannot—" His voice cracked slightly before he squared his shoulders, forcing himself into a state of denial so powerful it could deflect magic. "IT WAS MERELY A MOMENT OF TEMPORARY EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY!"

Lilia, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, was vibrating. His hands were clasped in front of his mouth, his entire body shaking as he barely contained his laughter. His eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered joy.

"Ah, young love," he sighed dramatically, swaying slightly as if overcome by emotion. "So passionate! So tumultuous!" He clutched his chest. "So full of suffering!"

Sebek whirled around, offended to his very core.

"It is NOT love!" he practically roared, and Silver, who had been trying to stay calm, rubbed his temples like a tired therapist dealing with a particularly stubborn client.

"Sebek," Silver said, voice steady, soothing, rational. "You kissed her."

Sebek's eye twitched.

"It was an accident!"

Silver raised an eyebrow. "How do you accidentally kiss someone?"

Sebek flailed. "IT WAS THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT!"

"Mmhm~" Lilia hummed, practically swaying with delight.

Sebek turned to him, pointing like he was about to declare war. "STOP—STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!"

"Like what?" Lilia grinned. "Like I just witnessed the most entertaining thing to happen in centuries?"

"YES!"

Lilia cackled.

Sebek turned back to Silver, desperate for support, but Silver was already shaking his head.

"Sebek," Silver said patiently. "You’re in love."

Sebek physically recoiled. His entire soul left his body for a second before it returned, but not before his brain short-circuited.

"NO!"

"Yes," Silver said simply.

"Preposterous!" Sebek thundered, arms flailing again. "I am a knight! Her protector! I have sworn my loyalty to her! I would give my LIFE for her—!"

"Yes," Silver interrupted, nodding. "Because you love her."

Sebek froze.

His mouth opened. Then closed.

Then opened again.

Nothing came out.

Lilia, who was practically incandescent with joy, clasped his hands together and leaned in, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Oh my," Lilia purred. "He's realizing it."

Sebek visibly malfunctioned.

His arms tensed, his jaw clenched, his brain clearly trying to override the obvious conclusion with pure willpower alone.

And then, because he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself—

Sebek turned on his heel and sprinted out of the room at full speed.

Lilia howled with laughter, throwing himself back onto the couch.

Silver simply sighed, rubbing his temples again. "You know he's going to deny this for at least another week, right?"

"Oh, let him struggle~" Lilia giggled, delighted beyond words. "This is better than theater."

The heroine was losing her goddamn mind.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was the main character. She was supposed to triumph over adversity! She was supposed to defeat her rival, claim her rightful place at Malleus’s side, and bask in the admiration of high society as they all realized how special and wonderful she was!

And yet—

You.

You, the person who was supposed to be her greatest adversary, her foil, her dramatic counterpart—

Did. Not. Care.

Every time she tried to one-up you, every time she schemed and plotted and prepared some devastating social maneuver to put you in your place—

You ignored her.

Not even with thinly veiled contempt. Not with cold, calculated disdain. No.

You ignored her like you would ignore a particularly unimpressive rock on the side of the road.

Like a piece of furniture. Like she was a background character in her own goddamn story.

She had thrown everything at you.

She had made subtle barbs about your outfits—Oh, what a… bold choice of color. Not everyone could pull that off.

You had simply nodded and thanked her before returning to making googly eyes at your knight.

She had gone out of her way to outshine you at every event—grander gowns, more dramatic entrances, carefully curated conversations that should have drawn everyone’s attention to her.

You?

You barely registered that she was there.

She had even dyed her own knight’s hair green for fuck’s sake.

And you had just—

Ignored it.

You hadn’t even looked surprised. No scandalized gasp, no pointed glances, no passive-aggressive remark about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery.

Nothing.

The absolute indifference nearly sent her into a breakdown right then and there.

But still—still—she had held out hope.

Because there was one final, tried-and-true method to defeat a villainess.

Poison.

A noblewoman’s tea party. A carefully laced cup. A gasp, a choke, a dramatic collapse.

It was foolproof.

Except—

Except you had pretended to drink it.

She hadn’t even noticed at first. She had simply sipped her tea, waiting for your inevitable demise—only to watch you pull off an Oscar worthy performance.

And now?

Now the entirety of high society hated her.

Not because they actually cared about you, no—

But because attempting to poison someone at a social gathering was just so terribly gauche.

It was uncivilized. It was desperate. It was cringe.

And worse?

She had failed.

One noblewoman had sighed, shaking her head. “Poisoning your rival? How utterly common. If she were going to do it, the least she could’ve done was be subtle.”

Another had tsked, “Imagine—spending all that effort trying to destroy someone only for them to sit back and make googly eyes at their knight instead.”

That one nearly made her explode.

Because that? That was the worst part.

Through all of this, you weren’t even fighting back.

You weren’t scheming. You weren’t plotting revenge. You weren’t even paying attention to her anymore.

No.

You were too busy pining over Sebek.

At first, she thought it was coincidence. A weird little side note in this battle.

But no.

She saw it everywhere now.

You, brushing your hand against his as he held a door open for you. You, laughing at something he said in that ridiculous, overly loud voice. You, looking at him like he was the most precious thing in existence while he continued to act like a knight-shaped golden retriever with too many feelings.

It was infuriating.

And now, after everything, after all the time and energy and sanity she had lost trying to make you engage, she woke up one morning and realized—

She had lost.

Not in some grand, cinematic battle of wits. Not in an explosive confrontation.

No.

She had lost in the most humiliating way possible.

Because you never even considered her a threat to begin with.

She had spent all this time clawing her way to the top of a rivalry that only existed in her own head.

And the person she had chosen as her nemesis had treated her with the same level of importance as a salad garnish.

It was over.

She was done.

She picked up a pen, wrote a letter, and signed it with the exhausted resignation of a woman who had fully accepted defeat.

Lady,

I give up. I’m leaving. Enjoy your ridiculous romance with your ridiculous knight.

—Heroine

Then, without any fanfare, she packed her things, walked out of her estate, and left the country.

And you?

You didn’t even notice until a servant handed you the letter over breakfast.

You blinked at it, took a bite of toast, and read the whole thing while casually sipping your tea.

Then you folded it neatly, set it aside, and promptly forgot about it.

Sebek Zigvolt was avoiding you.

Not in the dramatic, storming-off, I-shall-never-speak-to-you-again way that some lovesick noble might after a scandalous incident at a ball. No, that would have been too easy.

Instead, he had apparently decided that the most rational way to handle his predicament was to maintain a perfect six-foot gap between the two of you at all times.

Like some sort of ridiculous, self-imposed restraining order.

You noticed it immediately, of course, because how could you not?

The first morning, you stepped into the drawing room, still slightly groggy from waking up, and found Sebek already there, standing so rigidly that he looked like he had been installed into the floorboards.

“Good morning, Sebek.”

Sebek, a man who had never once in his life failed to respond to you immediately, took a full three seconds to react, his head snapping toward you like a marionette whose strings had been yanked too hard.

“MY LADY!” he barked, far too loud for this early in the morning. “GOOD MORNING TO YOU AS WELL!”

Then, before you could say another word, he pivoted sharply and took three steps back.

Three big, deliberate, backward steps.

And then?

He stared past you.

Not at you. Past you.

Like he had suddenly developed an intense fascination with the wall.

And this? This continued.

For three. Entire. Days.

At breakfast, he sat exactly six feet away from your chair and stabbed his eggs with the precision and fury of a man attempting to exorcise a demon from his plate.

At social events, he positioned himself like some tragically lovesick ghost, haunting the edge of the room with a tormented expression, still very much guarding you but now also acting like being within arm’s reach might cause him to spontaneously combust.

Even in casual conversations, if you took a step forward?

Sebek took a step back.

And the worst part?

He was so obvious about it.

Like, if he was actually trying to be subtle, you could at least pretend it wasn’t happening. But no, this man was out here moving like an NPC whose pathfinding AI was breaking.

By the third day, you had reached your limit.

You had tolerated his weird little knightly existential crisis long enough.

So, that morning, when you saw him standing—once again—exactly six feet away, rigid as a lamppost, pointedly pretending that the tree outside the window was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life, you snapped.

“Sebek.”

No response.

“Sebek.”

Nothing.

You took a step forward.

Sebek immediately took a step back.

You took another step.

Sebek tried to escape.

Absolutely not.

With all the swiftness of a person completely done with this nonsense, you closed the gap, stepping right into his space, and before he could even think about scrambling backward like some flustered fawn, you grabbed his face and squished his stupid, handsome, stubborn cheeks between your hands.

Sebek made an absolutely incomprehensible noise.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THIS IS HIGHLY—!!”

He was spluttering. Stammering. Eyes darting around wildly like he was searching for an escape route despite the fact that you were holding his actual face.

“Sebek,” you said, exasperated, thumbs pressing into his cheeks as he failed spectacularly to regain any of his usual knightly composure. “Do you like me?”

Sebek, in his infinite, ridiculous wisdom, chose the absolute worst possible response.

“I—! I AM YOUR KNIGHT! TO ENTERTAIN SUCH FRIVOLITIES WOULD BE A DERELECTION OF DUTY!”

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and then, with the patience of someone trying to explain basic math to a particularly dense brick wall, you groaned, “Sebek, we are not in a play. Do you like me or not!?”

Sebek made a noise somewhere between a strangled honk and a dying animal.

His entire face turned so red that for a moment, you were genuinely concerned that he might be about to pass out.

Then—

He nodded.

It was tiny, barely perceptible, like he was afraid saying it too loudly would cause the heavens to smite him on the spot, but it was there.

And that was all you needed.

Before he could start raving about duty or oaths or whatever dramatic monologue he was preparing, you surged forward and kissed him.

Sebek froze.

Completely, entirely, utterly still.

For half a second, you worried that you had broken him.

But then—

Sebek kissed you back.

With the fervor of a man who had been waiting his entire life for this exact moment.

It took thirty full minutes to convince Sebek that you were, in fact, not in a tragic, forbidden love story.

Ten minutes of him pacing, ranting about duty and propriety, gripping the air like an overdramatic stage actor monologuing in the rain.

Thirty minutes of you, standing there, patiently waiting for his brain to catch up to reality.

"Sebek," you said for the fifteenth time, arms crossed, exasperated but fond. "We are not in a Shakespearean tragedy."

Sebek opened his mouth to argue, paused, frowned, then slowly closed it.

You could see the war happening inside him. His knightly instincts were screaming about honor and responsibility, while the part of him that had just kissed you—twice now—was standing in the corner, sweating profusely.

He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and nodded.

"...Very well," he said, stiffly, as if forcing himself to accept that the universe had, in fact, allowed him to be happy.

You smirked and reached for his hand. "Great. Now come on, we’re late."

Sebek made a dying noise when you intertwined your fingers with his.

When you arrived, Malleus, Lilia, and Silver were already gathered in the garden, basking in the afternoon sun.

The moment you and Sebek showed up—hand in hand—Lilia's entire face lit up.

"Ah-ha!" Lilia cried, delighted, spinning toward the others with a mischievous flourish. "Pay up!"

Malleus sighed, deeply, as if betrayed by fate itself. Silver grunted, reaching into his pocket.

And then, right in front of you, the two of them handed Lilia actual money.

You blinked. “Wait. What just happened?”

Lilia grinned, tucking his winnings away. “Oh, just a little wager~”

You narrowed your eyes. "What kind of wager?"

Lilia, positively glowing with mischief, said, "I bet that you two would get together sooner rather than later."

Malleus, looking far too composed for someone who had just lost a bet, adjusted his sleeves and said, "I, on the other hand, estimated that it would take at least another year."

Silver sighed. "I thought it’d take two."

You gawked. "YOU WERE TAKING BETS ON THIS?!"

Sebek was mortified.

"YOU GAMBLED ON OUR HONOR?!" he thundered, appalled, offended, visibly vibrating.

Lilia cackled. “Oh, relax, dear boy! I was simply invested in your happiness!"

Sebek looked like he wanted to die.

So, naturally, you turned toward him, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek.

Sebek stopped yelling immediately.

You could physically see the protest die in his throat. His entire body locked up, his ears turned red, and his eyes darted away as if you had just knocked the ability to argue right out of him.

Malleus, entirely too amused, hummed. “Curious. That seems to be an effective method of silencing him.”

Lilia beamed. “Oh, I love this development.”

Silver, utterly exhausted, rubbed his temple. "I don't even know why I bother at this point."

You just laughed, perfectly content, sitting beside your knight and the people you loved.

Masterlist

Can't believe this is the 15th part already!

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

As an eepy, helpless romantic.. how about a gender neutral reader who secretly loves to sing but rarely does it when they think someone is there. Now imagine their s/o waking to the reader singing to them, so soft yet filled with love and devotion.

For Leona, Jamil, Silver, Malleus, and Jack, please!

Jack Howl:

When you began to sing Jack feared his ear twitch might have alerted you to the fact he was actually awake but it seemed you were too absorbed in your song to notice. He wished you did this more, not wanting to put pressure on you to perform but… When you were good at something, shouldn’t you show it off a bit more? He didn’t mean for you to turn it into a job. Even if he was your audience he thinks it would be nice, wondering if there was a way for him to bring the topic up without embarrassing you.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil had to admit he didn’t know you had it in you. There was a natural melodic quality to your voice, in his opinion, but it didn’t mean he knew you had this hidden talent. While the sound is quite relaxing it’s the lyrics that leave him feeling unsettled. A confession in metaphors but a confession nonetheless, admiring him and his beauty, relating to the peaceful moment you were having now. He struggled to relate the song to himself but your lyrics were undeniably about him, for him, even if you didn’t realize he was listening.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona didn’t interrupt, never letting you know he had woken up while you were singing. There had been a handful of times where he’d heard the pleasant sound of your voice drifting down the halls but you always stopped the moment you knew he was nearby; he suspected he only heard you at all because his hearing was sharper than the average person. He thought it was a pleasant way to fall asleep, yet he couldn’t ignore the love behind your words, the way your fingers stroked through his hair carefully to not wake him. It’s hard to drift off to sleep after these revelations, as for once reality felt better than his dreams.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus feels as if you’re putting a spell on him, leaving him frozen in time but rather than feeling uncomfortable, it was like you had wrapped a warm blanket around him. He can’t recall ever hearing you sing before, wondering how often you did it. Did you do it while doing chores, or practicing magic? Were you a natural since you were young or had it required practice? He has so many questions to ask yet he felt too weary to do so, just wanting to keep his eyes closed to enjoy your song a few moments longer.

Silver:

Your song is so calming Silver felt he might fall into an eternal slumber, forever surrounded by your voice in an endless dream. His eyelids felt heavy as your words floated through him, taking time to truly listen to what you were singing about. Had he done anything to deserve your devotion? To have you see him in such a shining light that it was as if he could do no wrong? Silver can’t stop himself from opening his eyes, glancing over at your flustered face when you apologized for waking him. He shook his head with a soft smile, asking if you could sing it again for him.

[propertyofwicked]

CROSS MY HEART - LN

warnings - smut!! MDNI!! soft!lando x restless!reader, sleepy sex, unprotected (stay safe yall), little bit of cockwarming ?

little one shot for a tired reader who just needs a bit of late night lovin <3

based on -> cross my heart by artemas

masterlist

she truly didn’t mean to start anything, y/n was simply trying to get comfortable. she was restless, the clock on the bedside table displaying 3:00 in bright red lighting mocking her. lando laid behind her, his arm laying haphazardly over her waist, holding her close to him, the other stretched above her head.

lando’s heavy breathing faltered for a moment, as she tossed and turned again, his eyes squeezing tight before squinting open to look at her. she was now laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, lando’s arm still thrown over her as he moved to squeeze at her hip.

“hey,” he whispered, trying not to let his slumber leave him fully.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologised, whispering back at him.

“why are you still up?” he asked, ignoring her apology.

“can’t sleep,” she said, turning her head to look at him.

his eyes were still half closed, struggling to open with the weight of his fatigue. his hair was messy, matted down slightly from where he rested his head, a stray curl resting on his forehead.

“come ‘ere,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder before pulling at her hip, guiding her to shuffle back into his embrace. she felt his soft breaths blowing on her hair, trailing down the back of her neck, tingles shooting down her spine as she rolled further into his arms. her body moulded into his as though they were made for each other, each curve of her back fitted perfectly with his chest. her legs bent upwards, resting above his, feeling the dull warmth of his thighs spread to hers.

his hand resting on her hip, fingers drawing circles on her thigh, twisting the fabric of her shorts as he did.

“what’s wrong?” he asked again, sensing there was more to her restlessness.

“nothing,” she said with a sigh, “well, i don’t think there’s anything wrong.”

“the girl who sleeps anywhere anytime can’t fall asleep - never thought i’d see the day,” he joked, laughing lightly, his chest shaking lightly on her back as he did.

“maybe ive slept too much and now im doomed to an eternity of sleepless nights,” she replied, leading lando to laugh lightly again.

“right,” he started, “shut your eyes for me, focus on steady breathing.”

she nodded at him, hoping that lando could feel her response, as his eyes had shut again, his head rolling forwards to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

and so, y/n laid there silently for minutes, eyes closed. she’d just about given up counting sheep, trying to recall a long journey, even focusing on numbing her entire body head to toe - nothing was working. finally, she decided that shuffling backwards, further into her boyfriends embrace might help, maybe the white noise of his heavy breathing, or the warmth of his chest on her back would lull her into the deep sleep she needed.

her hips rolled back first, pushing into lando’s crotch as she did, her back moving to arch into his chest. but before she could get comfortable, the grip on her waist tightened, a small grunt escaping lando’s mouth as he held her impossible close to him.

“if you wanted me that bad, you should’ve just said,” he mumbled in her ear again, his hips jutting forwards slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” she whined in defence, before considering the situation, “but since you mentioned it, and since i can feel a little problem forming…”

“little?” he gasped jokingly, “you’ve never complained about the size of it before.”

“ill think you’ll find i have,” she replied, her hips absentmindedly grinding down on his growing bulge as she spoke, “do you not remember the jaw pain i had after i suc-”

she was interrupted by his hand landing firmly over her mouth.

“don’t finish that sentence if you don’t want this to escalate,” he warned.

“and what if i want it to?” she teased, “might help to tire me out?”

“well in that case, i guess im obliged to help,” he sighed, jokingly conceding as his fingers tugged at the waistband of her shorts. her hand reached down to grab his, halting his movements slightly, she could feel his face contort in confusion from where it still rested on her skin.

“just pull them to the side,” she told him, “im too tired to take my clothes off.”

he laughed at her honesty, never one to complain about being lazy with his girl, especially when he himself was too exhausted to put his full effort into sex right now.

“yeah?” he asked her, needing reassurance before she nodded, mumbling a quick “please”.

lando’s hands reached around to y/n’s front, pulling her shorts to the side, running his rough fingers through her folds. his head near shot up in shock, pushing himself up slightly to look down at the woman below him, fingers still working through her heat, circling her clit.

“how are you already that wet?” he asked her, chuckling lightly as the moon’s soft glow illuminated the flush rising her cheeks, “all i did was press my cock into your ass and you’re dripping?”

“ok?” she replied, feigning offence, “all i did was push my hips into your cock and you got hard? you know, lan, most men wouldn’t complain when their girlfriends find them attractive,” she joked, exposing his hypocrisy with a giggle.

“this wet, though? all for me?” he asked again, though his voice no longer held it’s playful tone, it became almost possessive, proud of his effect on her.

“all for you,” she choked out, stuttering as his fingers circled her entrance, his thumb moving to continue his assault on her clit. he pushed into her, fingers curling in as he did.

“please lan,” she begged him, panting as he did. any other time, she’d be embarrassed how quickly she was falling apart for him, but right now she couldn’t think about anything but being full with him.

“please, what, angel?” he asked, smirking at her submission, “words, baby.”

“need you now,” she whined, rolling her hips to deepen his fingers, intensifying the pressure of his thumb on her heat.

“patience, angel. gettin’ you ready for me,” he grunted, hips still jutting sporadically into her every time she moaned out for him.

“i’m ready,” she argued, “i can take it.”

“you sure?” he teased, though his hand slipped away from her, pushing her shorts to the side again and tugging his boxers down to free himself. lando tugged at his length a few times, spreading precum down the shaft before lining himself up with her entrance. he felt her lean forwards slightly, moving her leg to raise it over his, opening herself up to him.

he pushed in slowly, feeling her walls stretch around his cock as she moaned out at the intrusion, soon feeling the cotton of her shorts brushing against the skin at the base of his pelvis. her hand reached back, gripping at his arm to stop his movements.

“need a moment,” she whined.

“who’s little now?” he joked, careful to keep himself still inside her, “’i’m ready, i can take it,’“ he mocked.

“shut up or i’m leaving,” she warned, grinding down on him as she grew used to the feeling of being full.

“sure you will,” he gloated, hand moving back down to her clit, pinching at it lightly as his hips began to thrust into her at a gentle pace. she couldn’t argue back if she tried, his warmth engulfing her as he held her close, strings of curses tumbling from her mouth with every thrust.

“love having you so close to me,” he grunted, his teeth nipping at the skin on her shoulder lightly, “so full of me. feel so good, wrapped around my cock like this.”

his pace remained gentle - his thrusts deep inside her, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that had her purring for him. the feeling of lando’s hands on her, gripping at her thigh, holding her open for him to slide in and out of her. his chest pressed up against her back, a light sweat coating his skin.

it was no surprise she reached her climax so quickly, overwhelmed at the feeling of him thrusting deep inside her, his body surrounding her every senses, soft grunts that travelled through her ears and straight to her heat - he was like a drug she could never quit. she came hard and fast, body shaking around his cock as her body grew limp. lando followed soon after, his strong grip holding her body still for him to use however he pleased.

his hips moved to pull back, to slip out of her slowly but her exhausted whines stopped his movements.

“leave it in,” she mumbled, face pressed into the pillow.

“what?” he asked, trying to disguise the mixture of shock and excitement he felt at the prospect of being so close to her.

“you heard me, lan. leave it in. want to feel full,” she replied, a small smile rising on lando’s face at her tired desperation, as she shuffled back into his warm embrace once again. his arms tightened around her again, her laboured breathing lulling them both into a deep sleep.

[hanniebaeee]

Under the Northern Lights

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: You and Hyunjin witness the Northern Lights for the first time ever, and the magical moment turns into a rather heated one!

a/n: It's my dream to explore Iceland and to witness the northern lights! Till I get there, let's just do it with Jinnie here 🤭

It was warm, so warm. Hyunjin's arm was wrapped around your waist and his leg thrown over yours as he slept. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his breath fanning the back of your neck.

You two have had a busy day exploring a beautiful snowy village in Iceland. Hyunjin could barely move when you two got back - he'd had about enough of being on his feet for the day, and fell asleep almost immediately.

You’d been just as exhausted as him, but you'd woken up late at night after he managed to kick off the blankets as usual.

Your eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded and annoyed as you reached for the blanket. But then something else caught your attention. Outside the window.

"Ohh -" You sat upright, and Hyunjin jerked in his sleep grumbling something incoherent and burying his face in the pillow.

"Hyunjin! Get up!" You shook his shoulder, disturbing his slumber.

"Babe, I swear if this isn’t an emergency -”

"Just look!"

He groaned, peeling his eyes open (dramatically). The second he caught sight of the faint green glow outside, he shot upright, his mouth falling open.

"Is that...?"

"The northern lights!"

You were already hopping out of bed and fumbling for your coat. But Hyunjin was still blinking sleepily as you threw his jacket at him.

"Babe, it's soooo cold outside," he whined, dragging himself out of bed. "And I was having a really good dream…you were there, and chocolate, actually you in chocolate-"

"Oh my God Jinnie!! We made this trip to see exactly this, and you're stuck on your horny dreams!!"

"Horny dreams!?" He sounded offended, but his expression softened as he glanced at the lights swirling in the sky. "Okay, yeah, alright. Pants, pants... where are my pants?"

He got his pants to his face, of course.

After what felt like an eternity of fumbling, and a few swats to his butt ("Wear the pants, Jinnie!"), the two of you stumbled out into the cold night, boots crunching on the snow as the aurora borealis painted the skies above.

Hyunjin pulled you close as you both stared up, your breaths mingling in the chilly air.

"Wow," he murmured, his voice shaking with the cold.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your heart swelling with happiness as you tilted your head back to take it all in.

"Okay, you were right to wake me up. But also, you’re totally making up for it later."

"Making up for what? Giving you the most magical moment of your life?"

"No, for interrupting my sleep. And my chocolate dream." He grinned down at you. "And not to be cheesy or anything, but the most magical moment of my life was the day you said yes. So yeah."

"Stop it." You laughed, and he pulled you closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“I love you, baby. I love it that we're doing this together,” He said, and before you could say anything, he kissed you - both your lips cold and a little numb.

And the way he sneaked his tongue into your mouth made your stomach flip. The lights danced above, but all you could feel was him - his warmth and the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And then he pulled his phone out, because obviously you needed to record this moment. And a frozen photo shoot later, you both trudged back inside, in a hurry to get away from the chill.

Hyunjin was already peeling off his layers the second the door closed behind you. He chucked his coat with a dramatic groan, running his hands through his short blond buzz cut.

He went on to take a look at the fireplace (an electric one unfortunately), and then got on the bed, holding his hand out.

"Alright, babe," he drawled. "Since you ruined my dream, I think it’s only fair we finish what I started in my head."

He grinned as he pulled you onto his lap.

You rolled your eyes, but you really loved it when he was this horny and lovesick. With a smile you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him. His hands slid beneath your sweater, palms warm against your ribs as he kissed you like he’d been starving for days.

His hands moved up, cupping your breasts over your bra, and his thumbs ran over your hard nipples, perked up.

"Fuck baby," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot as his hands squeezed your breasts. "You cold?"

"More like really hot" you gasped, your hands sliding over the blond fuzz on his head and your nails scraping his scalp.

"Mhm," he managed, his lips trailing down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin all the way to your collarbone. "You looked so hot all bundled up, and now…”

His nibbled on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back enough to pull your sweater over your head and tossed it aside, before finding the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down as his lips were on yours again.

"Jinnie," you whispered, your voice trembling as his hands worked on getting rid of the rest of your clothes.

You watched him undress as the northern lights danced outside, casting a faint glow through the window. You couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked as he leaned in and his lips grazed the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin’s kisses were hot and demanding, his lips urging you to respond with the same intensity. And you could feel his hardness press against you, and it made your heart race even faster.

He kissed his way down, his lips hovering over chest, eyes locked with yours before his tongue peeked out, placing a tiny lick on your nipple.

That was enough for your core to clench and with a little smirk he closed his lips on the little bud and sucked relentlessly, making you moan. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he gave your other nipple the same attention.

And you glanced down to see them glistening with his spit.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, your voice shaky as you pulled him closer. “Please.”

He grinned against your skin, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muttered before lifting your hips slightly, and without any warning put his mouth directly on your wet folds.

Your body jerked with shock, and it didn't stop him from running his tongue over your dripping heat. You were falling apart under him, your body shaking as he licked and sucked on your puffy clit.

The sensation of his tongue inside you, and his soft hair against your inner thighs has your body quaking with need. And he kept going at it until finally with a quick flick of his tongue, you came undone, gushing into his mouth as he held you close.

He was painfully hard now, and the faint layer of sweat on his chest and forehead looked so damn enticing in the pale light. The look he gave you was raw and desperate, and you wasted no time pulling him close and kissing him.

Tasting yourself on his lips was seriously the most intimate, most satisfying thing ever. He moaned as you kissed his neck and bit down on the spot right below his jaw, making him grind down on you.

"Please baby," He whispered and shifted, positioning himself between your legs and you could feel his length prodding at your entrance.

Your eyes met again and you gave him a soft nod. He entered you slowly, pulling a soft moan from your lips as you both adjusted to the sensation, the feeling of being stretched open settling over you.

His movements were rhythmic, pushing you both to the edge and he kissed you, his hands gripping your hips as he drove deeper into you.

“Hyunjin…” you breathed, gasping for air as he made you feel every inch of him. He moved faster, harder, and you met each thrust with equal need, your body trembling.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groaned, his voice strained as he held you close, his eyes twinkling with love and lust.

You felt your release building, your breath hitching as you tipped over the edge and clenched around him tight. His movements were sloppier as he chased his own release, and he came with a groan, burying his face into your neck as he spilled inside you.

Breathing heavily, hand gently stroked your hair, his lips brushing your forehead as you both recovered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft.

“I love you too,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on his chest.

As the morning light seeped through the small window of your room, you knew that you two had overslept. The warmth of Hyunjin's body beside you was comforting, and you watched him with love before pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were still closed, but he smiled. A sweet sleepy one. And he looked so adorable (and a little too hot for his own good).

Your hand, almost of its own accord, slid down to where he was already hard and straining against his shorts. A spark of heat shot through you, as your palm cupped his length, putting on a little pressure.

You couldn’t resist teasing him, and Hyunjin opened his eyes slowly, his smile widening.

“What are you doing baby?” He mumbled and you didn't answer him, just moved down, pulling his shorts off him.

He was wide awake now, propped up on his elbows watching you as you stroked him gently.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked, his voice husky.

“You're you,” you whispered, and he groaned as your lips closed around his pink tip.

And yeah…you two didn't make it to the sight seeing tour you'd booked.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

[madhattervanessa]

Care

Summary: A bad day.

Warnings: uhm, depression naps, loss and regaining of appetite, excessive sleeping, Simon lets himself in, fluff

Words: 1169

A/N: This is very self-indulgent but I felt like posting it anyways. Sending love to anyone who can relate.

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

-

You let your water glass clink against the sink and move back towards the sofa. The morning sun is barely peeking through the curtains but you feel tired.

The walking pad you had gotten remains unused as you lie down.

Everything hurts. There are days like this, where it just does and a bone-deep tiredness just blinds you, pulling you to sleep, even though you had already slept for 10 hours.

It’s no use trying to resist.

So you sleep, again, curled up on the couch under your blanket.

It’s already enough that you don’t go to work but when Simon texts you, asking where you are, it makes you hide underneath the blanket even more.

You don’t want to bother anyone with your sudden, overwhelming sadness, is what you text back. You really don’t.

Another text.

You ignore it.

When you wake up again, it’s well into the afternoon, almost approaching evening.

At least you feel comfortable now, still tired and sad, but comfortable.

The creak of your front door makes you freeze, going completely stiff, as the door falls back into its lock.

The heavy footsteps are familiar and you tug your blanket away from your face just in time to see Simon appearing in the kitchen.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands in the door frame for a moment.

He approaches with care. It's like you can feel his heavy gaze on you as he rounds the couch and comes to another halt right in front of you.

And then he produces a paper bag and puts down a steaming paper cup (a little cardboard sleeve already wrapped around it), right in your eye sight, on the coffee table.

You furrow your brows and already feel tears gathering in your eyes. So you ruck the blankets a little higher. The dull sound of your water bottle hitting the wood of the table follows.

He puts the paper bag down, too.

Then, he just turns on his heel and leaves again, locking the door behind himself.

You fall into an uneasy slumber after that, but manage to take a few sips of the drink he had brought you, before hiding underneath the blanket again.

The next time the door opens, he locks it behind him.

The warm, savoury smell of food wafts through the air but this time, Simon’s footsteps are so quiet, you wouldn’t know he was inside if you hadn’t heard the lock turn, moving through your kitchen like a ghost.

You sigh and push your nose deeper into the cushions.

You jump when you feel Simon sitting down on the couch, already having nodded off again.

He wordlessly checks how full the water bottle and the paper cup are, before gently pushing them to your side and setting down the crinkly, white plastic bag in his hand. It clinks metallically as it hits the table and your eyes automatically follow the movement of his hands.

He unpacks a plethora of black boxes, some of them steaming, some seeming cold.

You recognize the packaging immediately- your favorite sushi place.

You can feel your mouth salivate a little, a sudden ache pulsing behind your eyes that reminds you that you had barely had breakfast before you had slept for another eternity.

He puts down two beers and one of those yuzu lemonades you like to get sometimes, before he eventually leans back. He glances at you before demonstratively patting the cushions, obviously searching for the remote.

You huff and carefully extend an arm out of your cocoon to reach for it. 

He hums when you give it to him.

When he opens his beer with one hand, you instantly realize that you desperately need to go pee.

Simon’s gaze follows you, as you get up and quickly retreat to the bathroom.

As soon as you are back, you stop in your tracks.

Simon has spread out all of the food on the table, containers opened.

Additionally, he has put a blanket on himself, his legs spread invitingly.

You chew on your lip and hesitate for a moment.

He wordlessly flips the blanket open and meets your eyes.

You keep chewing on your lip but you are cold and you know Simon is a walking heater. 

So you cave and crawl into the offered space.

Simon manhandles you until you are comfortably sitting back against his chest.

He is quick to positively swaddle you in the blanket, making sure to fold the edges down underneath your feet. On screen, a trashy dating show is already on, running on low volume.

He grabs one of the boxes and wordlessly deposits it on your lap. You quickly notice a second pair of chopsticks lie in the box as he starts to eat.

It takes him getting through just one of the takeout boxes for you to grab hold of the chopsticks and start getting into a few of the side dishes, before you eventually start picking out your favorites from the other boxes. Behind the armrest of the couch, Simon carefully collects them in another bag as soon as you are both done with them.

As the show goes on, you eventually come back to doing your little quips, commenting on who you think is a toxic asshole and how the women deserve better. Simon grunts his approval or murmurs something about those bloody idiots, while steadily making you eat up the rest of the food.

With your belly full and your mind busy with the trashy tv show, you don’t even notice the time passing. Simon keeps you warm, his hands constantly rubbing over your skin, petting at your waist, wrapping his arm over you, rubbing his cheek against your temple.

When the last episode finally wraps up, Simon turns you in his arms until you can nuzzle into his neck.

He lets his hand stroke over your back as you try your best not to let the weight of the day get to you again, the aching emptiness.

He just holds you, silently. Providing you with the steady up and down of his breathing and the blissful absence of any questions.

Eventually, his hand wanders up to gently wrap around the nape of your neck, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in slow circles over your scalp.

“D’you want me to stay over?”

You don’t answer.

You do, you desperately do, but this already feels like you have required too much of him. All of your thoughts are circling around being a burden, not even being able to open your fucking mouth-

“Tell you what”, he mutters, “‘m gonna watch a few episodes of a show I wanna see. Finish my beer. You just stay there and keep me warm and comfortable, yeah?”

You make a non-committal sound.

He switches on some sort of moody, crime focused show and keeps petting you. His thumb strays from your hair to your pulse every now and then, gently stroking over it, until your eyes eventually fall shut and you drift off.

-

[4nyangnyangz]

hey, emo boy! 🎸

synopsis: when you reconnect with your childhood best friend after finding out that he finally achieved his goal of forming a band, you’re introduced to their enigmatic guitarist—a man with an intimidating aura that both intrigues and unsettles you. a chance offer for guitar tutorial sessions brings you closer, and what begins as casual lessons quickly turns into something deeper as you exchange subtle yet intimate interactions. as your feelings grow stronger, so does the undeniable tension brewing between you, complicating a bond that was never meant to be simple.

pairings: guitarist!beomgyu x fem reader ; implied soobin x yeonjun??(just crumbs. don't expect much)

tags/warnings: smut but mostly plot, grinding, dry humping but no actual intercourse, use of pet names, strangers to lovers(?), beomgyu is whiney and gets jealous easily, soobin as y/n's roommate and kai as y/n's best friend, there might be more I forgot to mention- THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD!

wordcount: 13.8k.... i got carried away :((

fic below the cut!!

-----------------------------------

“Y/N! You awake yet?” the familiar voice of your roommate echoes through the surrounding walls of your shared apartment.

“Ugh, what does he want now....” you groan to yourself while you sit up, stretching your arms. You were just starting to wake up from what seemed like an eternal slumber.

“Yeah, what is it?” you reply while yawning, trying to imply that you literally just woke up.

“Can you please buy some eggs and bread from the mart nearby? We ran out, and I don't feel like having just bacon for breakfast.” the voice from the other side of the door responds, lowering his voice and almost muttering towards the end. You still heard it, of course.

You get up from your bed, slipping a comfy t-shirt on and tying your hair in a ponytail as you headed out of your room.

You slightly chuckle at the sight of your roommate preparing breakfast while wearing an apron with purple hearts on it. You noticed that his hair was a bit messy indicating that it hasn't been long since he woke up too, and the way the cute apron looked slightly stretched against his bigger frame, knowing he was at least 6 ft tall, wearing an apron that was clearly not made for someone of his size was quite a sight to see first thing in the morning.

“Did you hear what I said?” Soobin, your roommate, says as he shoots his sharp gaze at you while you were observing him, noticing that you looked amused at his interesting fashion choice.

“I heard you, don't worry.” you shrug. Your smile fading after seeing his clearly unamused expression. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shakes his head as a response and gets back to preparing the ingredients for breakfast.

“Alright then, I'll be right back.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Soobin calmly says as you head back to your room to get changed.

As soon as you made it to your room, you quickly change into one of your favorite hoodies and baggy pants. You grab your phone after getting dressed and made your way out.

You were heading towards the local mart nearby where you and Soobin would often go to whenever you were missing a few items at home. You both would take turns doing housework, and it was Soobin's turn to make breakfast today so here you are, on shopping duty.

You scrolled through your phone with one hand while you stuffed the other in the pocket of your hoodie as you were walking towards the store. It was a 15 minute walk from your place, and you weren't going to get a lot of stuff, so you decided to walk. You knew you needed a bit of exercise to start your day, so this wasn't too bad.

Multiple notifications pop up at the top of the screen of your phone while you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. You didn't pay them much attention, until one particular notification from your best friend catches your eye.

(9+ unread messages from Hyuka)

Assuming it was something urgent, you immediately tapped on the notification popup as he isn't the type to send this much messages to you unless it's important, considering you just talked to him last night right before going to sleep. Your eyes immediately widen after reading the thread of messages he sent one after another.

Hyuka:

(hey y/n so i just woke up...)

(GUESS WHAT)

(WAIT NO DON'T ACTUALLY)

(THIS IS CRAZY???)

(YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THIS.)

(you're the first one i'm telling this to so you better keep this a secret for now, ok?)

(I actually can't believe this, wait-)

(So remember when I kept telling you I wanted to start a band?)

(you may not know it but I personally asked a few people at school)

(AND GUESS WHAT?????)

(you've probably guessed it by now ik)

(BUT I DID IT!)

(I FINALLY FOUND PEOPLE TO START A BAND WITH)

(I can't share the full details here yet but I'll def talk to you about it when we meet, kay?)

(See you soon, y/n! <3)

Your surprised expression soon turns into a smile of relief as you could almost feel your friend breaking into your phone and appearing in front of you if he could just to share the good news with you. You knew how long he was waiting for this moment and he was just so eager about wanting to start a band so he could finally showcase his love for music, and share it with the world.

Hyuka was the nickname you gave your best friend, Huening Kai. You have been friends with him for God knows how long, even to the point where his parents would even treat you like you're part of the family and your parents would do the same for him.

You had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before he could reach his dreams, you've always known that he was a genius when it came to music. He would write the most poetic lyrics, play multiple instruments, make the most beautiful melodies, heck, he even wrote you a song for your birthday that you really liked enough to make it your ringtone at some point.

Knowing that he has finally made the first step to reaching his dreams of being in a band, made you feel nothing but proud of him. You witnessed his growth throughout the years, and you knew that he was capable of so much that the world needs to hear the songs he can come up with and know how talented he is.

Before you knew it, you already arrived at the store. You replied to your friend's messages, congratulating him before placing your phone inside the pocket of your baggy pants. You grab a small cart before heading straight to the aisle where you can find what you're looking for, since you've already memorized the structure of the place after shopping here so often.

You grabbed a tray of eggs and placed it on your cart carefully. You add in a few snacks here and there, and soon enough you get to the bread section. You just chose the usual bread that you guys have at home, plopping it unto your cart. You continued to look around, picking up some of them to take a closer look.

After much thinking, you decided to get Soobin a different type of bread aside from the ones that he will be using for the usual breakfast toast. It's a known fact for you that Soobin LOVES bread, he would always bring some home for him to munch on and share with you whenever he could.

You took your time choosing which one to get for him, especially after remembering the frown on his face during your encounter with him this morning. You thought to yourself that the stress from being student council president and having to work part-time on top of that must be getting to him, so getting him a few snacks wouldn't hurt.

You recalled Soobin's favorite had a sweet red bean filling. You also wanted to grab one custard cream filled bread for yourself. Thankfully, those two flavors were right next to each other. You extended your arm to get the bread, since they were at the very top of the shelves, yet you couldn't reach the top, even after trying to get them on your tiptoes.

Feeling a bit embarrassed at your multiple attempts but still not succeeding, you looked around, trying to find some help as it was too late to just back out from getting them. Fortunately, you had found someone in the same aisle just a few steps away from you, who at first glance was definitely tall enough to reach the top of the shelf and get them for you.

Your eyes landed on a tall and lean male with long, dark brown hair resting just right above his shoulders. His bangs were slightly covering his eyes, as he slightly lowered his head to look at the product he was holding in his right hand. You immediately notice his unique sense of fashion as he was dressed in a somewhat eye-catching way.

There were layers of silver and black accessories dangling around his wrists, and his fingers were wrapped in rings. He was dressed in an oversized black tee with a huge print of what seemed to be a band logo in the front, and black ripped jeans held together by the gray belt that was wrapped around his waist. Your eyes dropped down to his leather boots that went just up around his calf, that complemented his overall fit.

Remembering the messages you read from your best friend earlier, you immediately thought to yourself how this man you just saw looks like he would be in a band just perfectly. You couldn't help but be intimidated by the vibe he gave off. You were late to realize it but you stood there, eyeing the stranger from head to toe, slowly admiring him from a distance.

“Never seen someone that's dressed like this before?” the stranger now in front of you says nonchalantly, not even sparing you a glance while still examining the product he has been holding which immediately puts you back to your senses.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you blink twice and immediately shake your head, as if you just snapped out of a spell. Realizing that the stranger noticed how you were basically staring him down, you quickly rushed to defend yourself, worried that he might have misunderstood you when you had no ill intentions.

“N-no, of course not! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare... I actually think you're dressed really well. I mean, your style fits you a lot-” you ended up blabbering about how you liked his style before you even realized it. Your mind soon puts you back in your place, reminding you why you even turned to his direction in the first place.

“Wait, no, that's not why I was looking at you-” you sigh, a huge wave of embarrassment taking over you. You were lost in your words when you hear the stranger laugh, finding it adorable how you were a stuttering mess after he caught you staring at him and merely asked you a question.

He finally turns to your way, making eye contact with you and you immediately noticed his sharp features, a hint of eyeliner resting under his eyes, and with a closer look, you noticed that he has an almost angelic face despite the way he presented himself. You weren't sure if it was possible to be more flustered than before, but you were definitely not prepared to have an encounter like this in your local mart, on a random Thursday morning.

“I'm just kidding, don't worry. You just needed help with getting these, right?” he says as he walks closer to your direction, looking at the top row of the shelf.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but you could only imagine how he saw your countless attempts to get them for yourself before finally caving in and ask for help.

“Yes, please. Thank you...” is all you managed to say, looking down while feeling another wave of embarrassment crash upon you once again. You're just glad he was aware of the reason you looked to his direction, at least.

He stood right behind you as he reaches out to get what you needed. He moves his arms just above your shoulder carefully, making sure to not accidentally hit you while he picks up the packs of bread with ease.

“Here you go.”

You turn around to face him as he hands them over to you. You slightly raise your head to look at his face so you could thank him properly, and he shoots you over a smile. You felt your face getting warm after your eyes met.

“Thank you so much, and I'm sorry again, I hope you didn't get the wrong idea... I didn't mean to offend you in any way-” you start off, trying your best to dismiss the fact that the small distance between you was making you really nervous.

“I wasn't offended or anything, don't worry. I was just joking earlier, so don't take it too seriously.” he replies as he gives you a reassuring smile. You smile back at him in relief.

There was a small moment of silence as you both just stood there in front of each other, not saying anything.

“My name's Beomgyu, by the way.” the stranger introduces himself first, breaking the awkward silence.

You felt relieved and glad that awkward moment didn't last any longer. You have been feeling a bit uneasy ever since your conversation started, after all.

“What's your name, pretty?” he adds, the corner of his lips forming a slight smirk, while making sure to meet your eyes.

Getting flustered was one thing, but Beomgyu just managed to make you nervous at every point of your interaction with him. You weren't sure if it was because of his intimidating style, his unreal, almost angelic features, his deep and raspy voice calling you "pretty", the small distance between the both of you or just the idea of him flirting with you was making your heart beat faster and louder by the second, but you swore he could've heard it if you didn't answer him right away.

“I'm y/n.” you answered, smiling back at him, trying to cover up how you were feeling all sorts of emotions deep down at that moment.“You have a nice name, Beomgyu.”

He chuckles at your response and frankly sad attempt before replying, “Thank you. I like your name too, y/n. Will I be seeing you around?”

“Well, I live nearby and I usually go here when I need to get something in a hurry.” you hesitantly reply, unsure if this was the answer he was looking for.

“Great. I guess I'll start going here often then.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks once again from his response, and you immediately break eye contact. You attempt to laugh it off before responding.

“Sure, I might run into you again.” you mutter as you awkwardly laugh before looking away. You wouldn't even dare imagine the thought of seeing him here again.

You hear him chuckle for a bit before responding back. “I'll definitely say hi when I do. Well, I have to go now, I have practice in a few minutes. Guess I'll see you around then, y/n?”

Part of you was glad that you can finally get out of this situation, you have been feeling so overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions for a while now and you swear you felt yourself getting physically weak at some point, but a small part of you was also feeling sad that your encounter with Beomgyu had to end there, you just didn't want to admit it, of course.

“Yeah, see you around, Beomgyu. Thanks for your help, again.” you finally look back up at him and smile.

He smiles back and waves at you before turning to leave and walk away. You smiled back, waving your hands until you saw his silhouette disappear from your sight.

----------

“I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting.” you opened the front door to your shared apartment with Soobin and soon found him lying down and facing sidewards in the small sofa that could barely fit him.

He sits up after he hears your voice and immediately reacts to the smell of his favorite bread. There were times you'd question if he was a bunny in his past life from how he acted around his favorite food.

“Did you get the red bean filled bread? Or am I just smelling things?” he looks up at you, expecting your response. You haven't seen him this alive ever since you woke up today.

You smiled while nodding as a response. He immediately gets up from the sofa and heads to your direction, rummaging through the bags of food you just brought from the store and he has a wide smile on his face after seeing that you got him his favorite bread.

“Thank you so much, y/n! You have no idea how much I needed this. Sorry for acting weird earlier, I wasn't having the best day.” he mutters while fiddling with the bread, feeling apologetic from how he acted earlier.

“That's okay. I got your back, Soobs.” you assured him as you gently tap his shoulder, letting out a small laugh as you noticed him cringe at the nickname.

You help Soobin move the stuff you brought to the fridge and decided to help out with preparing breakfast. He swiftly whipped up two servings of French toast with some bacon at the side which the both of you finished in an instant. Although your roommate wasn't the best cook, he definitely wasn't bad at cooking either. You're just glad you won't have to worry about cooking and washing the dishes for today, at least.

Soobin gets up and brings the used plates and kitchenware over to the sink, and starts washing them.

You help out in cleaning the table while he does the dishes. Teamwork makes the dream work, indeed.

“Hey, Soobin?” you start the conversation while you were both cleaning up, just to avoid any awkward silence, or at least that's what you convinced yourself. It was totally not because you couldn't stop thinking about your short encounter with Beomgyu at the store earlier.

Soobin responds with a small hum while he stays focused on washing dishes.

You hesitated for a bit. You started to question yourself whether you should bring up what happened at the store or not, but you decided to go for it anyway. It's your roommate of all people, surely he won't make a fuss about it, right?

“I'm just asking this because I'm curious, but does the name 'Beomgyu' ring a bell?” you continued, feeling a bit cautious of his response.

You heard him hum for a moment as if he was contemplating something before he finally answered.

“Beomgyu...? I would definitely remember someone with that name, but I don't think I've heard that name before. Do they go to our school?” You weren't sure why, but you felt somewhat relieved after hearing Soobin's answer.

Soobin was right. Beomgyu isn't the type of person you would forget so easily, so Soobin would surely remember Beomgyu right away when you said his name, if they actually have met before, you thought to yourself.

“No, I don't think he goes to our school. It was my first time seeing him at the store earlier. I just thought you might know who he is, since you know a lot of people at school and you visit the store more often than I do.” you explain after realizing it might have been a weird question to ask all of a sudden.

“Well, why do you ask? Does it matter if I knew who this "Beomgyu" is?” he coos, trying to analyze the situation.

Now realizing that it might have been a bad move to ask Soobin about it, you immediately stop wiping the table to look at him. You just noticed that he was done washing the dishes and he was now facing you while leaning back at the counter where the sink was.

“N-no, it's nothing. I was just curious.” you mutter, praying he wouldn't ask you any further but knowing Soobin, you knew the conversation wasn't gonna end there.

“Y/N, don't tell me....” he pauses for a bit and raises an eyebrow. “Do you li-”

(Now Playing: Ariana Grande - Daydreamin')

Before you could stop Soobin from completing his next sentence, the ringtone playing from his phone echoes through the kitchen and you let out a sigh of relief. You're just glad you didn't even have to try and end the conversation. Whoever it was, they had called just in time.

Soobin also sighs, slightly ticked off that he wasn't even able to finish his question especially after he was now curious who this Beomgyu was that you brought up out of nowhere.

He slightly taps his hands at the sides of his pants, making sure his hands were dry before picking up the phone. He opens his phone and you noticed how his eyes widened and his expression changed immediately after seeing the screen light up.

“Oh, right- I HAVE TO MEET YEONJUN HYUNG! SHIT!-” is all he managed to say while he panics for a bit before finally deciding to answer the call.

“Hyung! Sorry, have you been waiting long? I'll be right there soon!” your eyes followed Soobin as he dashed to his room, making you laugh at his antics. You weren't surprised as this wasn't the first time Soobin would act like this, especially after knowing it was from Yeonjun.

You haven't met Yeonjun yet, but you've only heard so much about him from Soobin. From what Soobin had told you, you knew that Yeonjun was a model, he was older than Soobin, and that he's someone that Soobin "owes a lot" to. That kind of explains why Soobin acts like a switch had just been flipped and he's on alert mode when it comes to Yeonjun.

You finish tidying up the table and head to the sink to wash your hands before heading back to your room and changing back into comfortable clothes.

-------------

“Here's your large iced vanilla latte, enjoy!” Soobin smiles, flashing his dimples as he gently places the drink to the small tray in front of him and hands it over to the customer. The girl standing in front of Soobin smiles back at him before taking the tray over to her table with her friends. You noticed her friends giggling and cheering for her while she makes her way back to their table. You let out a small laugh, thinking it was adorable that there are some customers who seem to like coming to the cafe just to see your roommate.

“The boss should really give you a raise. I think this is the third time I've seen that group this week.” You slightly nudged Soobin's shoulder and whispered, just enough for him to hear. He chuckles and shakes his head while feeling embarrassed, you notice his cheeks were flushed with a tint of red.

This scenario was all too familiar to you, and it wasn't a surprise that you've had multiple customers who visited the cafe for the first time, soon turned into regulars because of Soobin. As much as you didn't want to admit it, Soobin was tall and good-looking. He had the sweetest voice whenever he would talk to the customers, he had the most captivating smile that emphasized his dimples, all of which he was fully aware that he would use those to his advantage, and it worked like a charm every time.

You respected how Soobin was dedicated to his job despite being just as busy with his countless responsibilities as the Student Council President. You may have a hard time getting used to seeing this side of him, especially since he's your roommate, but you couldn't deny that he was certainly getting the job done.

You both turn towards the entrance of the cafe as the ringing of the tiny chimes hanging above the door catches your attention. Your attention is soon diverted to the tall figure entering the premises, along with two people following behind him.

“Y/N! Soobin hyung!” a familiar voice echoes throughout the cafe.

“Kai is just as cheerful as ever, huh...” Soobin whispers back, just enough for you to hear.

You greet the tall blonde with a smile, you felt your nerves immediately loosen up after seeing your best friend, Huening Kai. He was always such a comforting presence to you. It felt like the stress you've had from school and the hours of hard work you have been doing up til' now disappeared in an instant, after seeing him come to visit you.

You noticed an unfamiliar face scoot beside Hyuka, to get a better view of the menu displayed on the screen behind you. He was slightly smaller than Hyuka, he had black hair and he had boba-like round eyes that were looking eagerly at the screen, trying to decide what to order.

“I'll have an iced americano, please.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You immediately noticed how his features turned almost cat-like after you saw him smile. You smile back at him and nod, tapping on the small screen in front of you to take his order.

“How about you, Beomgyu hyung?”

You looked up at him again, thinking you might have heard him wrong.

Beomgyu? There's no way it could be the Beomgyu you thought it was, right?

You followed his gaze as he turned to the person behind him, and your eyes widened after seeing the third person standing behind the two men in front of you.

Talk about luck.

It was, indeed, the Beomgyu that you had in mind. The person you met at the store, wearing the exact same outfit you saw him in earlier. Except this time, you noticed his hair was a bit messier, his eyeliner was slightly smudged, and he wore a guitar case like a backpack, the straps looped over his shoulders and the case resting snugly against his back.

You thought to yourself that at first glance, Beomgyu does seem like the type to play the guitar, yet you couldn't help but be surprised after seeing him anyway.

“I'll just have what you're having, thanks.” he mutters while he scrolls through his phone, not even sparing the three of you a glance.

Did he not see you? Part of you had hoped for it, even though you knew that he would eventually, especially since Hyuka will be introducing you to the both of them in a bit.

You weren't too sure how to approach him now, after your first encounter at the store earlier. Should you just wait for him to talk to you first? Should you pretend to not know him? You felt the nervousness that you almost forgot about take over you again, and countless thoughts started to fill your mind.

“I feel like getting that too, so you can make that three iced americanos, y/n. Oh, and let me also get two chocolate chip cookies with that, please.” Hyuka completes their order with a smile, and you can sense that he was excited to tell you all about his new friends and the progress of their band.

You finish taking down their order and you repeat it back to them to confirm if you got everything correct before sending it over to Soobin. Hyuka gives you an approving nod and makes sure to thank you first before they head over to their table.

You head over to Soobin and you help out with preparing their order. You plated the cookies while he was in charge of the drinks.

“I don't think I've seen those guys before, are they Kai's friends from school?” Soobin asks while he fills the three empty cups with ice.

“I don't know, it's my first time seeing Hyuka with them either.” You shrug. Hyuka would usually visit the cafe by himself, and this was the first time he brought someone else that isn't his family. You glanced at their table as you continued to chat with Soobin but you immediately tensed up when you noticed that Beomgyu was looking at your direction.

Feeling embarrassed at the sudden eye contact, you immediately turned your head to Soobin, trying to hide your face that started heating up the moment you and Beomgyu's eyes met. You let out a nervous laugh as you carried on with your conversation with Soobin, hoping that Beomgyu didn't notice.

Soobin wraps up the order and nudged you to take a break in the meantime so you could catch up with Hyuka. You were about to refuse and tell him that you could do that after your shift ends in a few hours since Hyuka usually waits for you anyway, but Soobin insisted and he left to greet the next customer before you could say another word of protest.

Thankfully, it wasn't a busy day, and Soobin assured you that he could manage the work by himself. You promised him you would go back the moment it gets busy however, and he agreed. You would also cover for Soobin during the few times that he had to leave for something urgent in the middle of his shift, so Soobin would gladly cover for you too if the situation calls for it.

You took one glance at Hyuka's table and sighed. You were excited to finally catch up with your friend, but at the same time you were feeling nervous thinking about how it would go, meeting Beomgyu again like this.

You brought the tray containing the drinks and cookies they ordered and carefully placed it on their table. Hyuka gently taps on the empty seat beside him, signaling for you to come sit with them. You smiled at him before taking a seat. He shoots back a really cheeky smile at you in return.

Beomgyu clears his throat loudly, almost as if he intended to interrupt your little moment with Hyuka.

This catches your attention and you all turn to face him. You were surprised to see such a dark expression on Beomgyu's face, it looked as if he didn't want to be there.

“Alright guys, this is my best friend, Y/N. We've been friends for like, forever, that we're basically family now. Right, Y/N?”, Hyuka pauses for a moment and looks at you expectantly, and you felt a bit embarrassed, but you nod as a response, not wanting to let him down.

He smiles after seeing your reaction and continues, “And these guys, are my bandmates. The pretty one with the long hair right here is Beomgyu hyung! He's going to be our guitarist. I've only seen videos of him play before and I thought that he was really good, but after practicing with him and seeing it for myself earlier, I was even more impressed!”

You glance at Beomgyu's reaction and you noticed how he was basically turning red from the compliments and how enthusiastic Hyuka was about introducing him, that it made you giggle and he looked away while resting his chin on his palm as an attempt to cover his flushed face, feeling even more embarrassed. You were now especially curious to see how Beomgyu would play the guitar, especially after seeing your best friend shower him with praise.

“The cute one over here is Taehyun!” Hyuka adds and you look at the young man sitting across you.

“Please don't call me cute.” he looks at Hyuka straight in the eye with a serious expression which made the three of you laugh because doing that somehow just made him look even cuter.

“Alright then, my bad! The HANDSOME one, is Taehyun.” Hyuka retorts, still laughing

from Taehyun's response and emphasizing on the word handsome. “He is our vocalist! He's an amazing singer and he has exactly the perfect voice I had in mind for the songs I've made! Oh yeah, and he's the same age as us, but he's older than me for a few months so that technically makes him my hyung. But he insists that I don't call him hyung, so I just call him Taehyun.”

You and Taehyun exchanged smiles after Hyuka formally introduced you to them. You glanced at Beomgyu and your eyes met, which made you feel flustered. You still couldn't get used to Beomgyu meeting your eyes without feeling nervous.

You could make eye contact with Taehyun just fine, but not with Beomgyu for some reason, was it because you guys already met before Hyuka introduced them to you?

“And I'll be playing the drums.” Hyuka blurts out and you immediately turn to him with a surprised look on your face which makes him laugh. “What's with that look, y/n?”

“Nothing... I just thought you would be on the keyboard or you would play the guitar, too. I just never expected you to be the one to play the drums, really.” you muttered. You knew that Hyuka could play the drums, but it wasn't the instrument he played often so it was a surprise to you when he revealed that he was going to be their drummer.

He laughs before explaining that they needed a drummer, and he's the only one that could do it so he just went for it. He was just happy that he's finally formed a band, officially.

“How about you, y/n?” Beomgyu asks, and everyone's attention was on you now. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Well...” you were caught off guard by the question, and you weren't expecting Beomgyu to ask you that. You hesitate a bit before answering, “I know how to play the guitar a bit... Hyu- I mean, Kai, was the one who taught me how.”

Kai looks back at Beomgyu with an approving nod, looking quite proud of himself. Beomgyu on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, looking like he isn't satisfied with your answer.

“Really? We should play together sometime. I can teach you how, too.” he replied, raising the corner of his lips and forming a smirk.

There it goes again. You were starting to get used to the feeling of being flustered, nervous, and embarrassed whenever you spoke with Beomgyu. You immediately avoided eye contact after seeing how he responded.

“That's right, Beomgyu hyung is really good and I think he would be a great teacher. Plus, you're a fast learner so I trust you, y/n!” Hyuka adds, genuinely supportive of the idea. You saw Taehyun nod, agreeing with Hyuka. You laughed nervously, not even wanting to entertain the thought of how that would go, but you just couldn't say no to that now that everyone's basically on it. It won't turn out so badly as you're imagining it, right?

“Sure, maybe when we have some free time, I guess...” you muttered, in hopes of dismissing the topic there.

“Your number.” Beomgyu places his phone on the table, right in front of you. You look down at his phone, then back at him with a confused expression. “So I could text you when I'm free, and I can teach you how to play.”

You're just now realizing that there's no turning back, and that he was actually dead serious about this. You glance at Kai and Taehyun, trying to find some sort of way out from this, but to your surprise, you see Taehyun with a smile, giving you a thumbs up and Hyuka was covering his face with his two hands as if he was blushing, eyes wide, nodding his head furiously, urging you to go type in your number already.

Lastly, you look over to Beomgyu and he just shoots you a mischievous grin. Was this really a good idea?

You were hesitant at first, but you didn't want to make it seem like you were being forced to do it. A part of you was actually looking forward to it, you were nervous yet excited to imagine meeting up with Beomgyu, just the two of you, so he could teach you and you could play together.

You were starting to feel blood rush to your cheeks at the thought, so you immediately look down to face the screen of his phone and type down your name and number, saving your information in his contacts and quickly handing him back his phone. You were hoping they didn't notice how flushed your cheeks were.

“Y/N!” you hear Soobin's voice call you from a distance, and you turn to his direction, seeing a slight panic in his expression. You didn't realize how the cafe was starting to get full, and you took this as your chance.

“Oh no, its starting to get busier. I'm sorry, I need to get back to work, Soobin needs my help. Let's catch up next time. I'll message you later, Hyuka. See you guys around then!” you said, getting up from your chair in a rush and patting Hyuka's head before quickly heading back to help out Soobin with the workload.

Hyuka starts pouting after you pat his head, him and Taehyun starts waving at your back as you rushed to get back to work. You never noticed since you left in a hurry, but Beomgyu's expression immediately darkens after you left the table. Soobin notices this however, and catches the younger boy's glare at him, as if he did something wrong.

Soon after you arrive at the counter to help out, Soobin immediately thanks you and divides the workload.

“Was this a bad time to call you back? Sorry, it was starting to get hectic.” he whispers, feeling bad and worried at the same time, and he swore could still feel Beomgyu glaring at him then.

“No, no, it was the perfect timing. You saved me there, thanks.” you whisper back at him in relief, which makes him more confused, but he doesn't question it and the both of you continue working.

-------------

A few days have passed since Hyuka introduced Beomgyu and Taehyun to you at the cafe. Since then, you and Beomgyu have been messaging each other. He would also visit the cafe along with Taehyun and Hyuka from time to time, and you have started to feel more comfortable interacting with him, it no longer felt like you were walking on thin ice whenever you talked.

It was safe to say that you were slowly becoming good friends with Hyuka's bandmates, and Soobin also had the chance to meet them at some point. After spending some time with them for few days, you had soon found out that Hyuka and Taehyun were classmates, and it was Taehyun who asked Beomgyu, who is his roommate, to join the both of them to form a band.

Before you knew it, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you stood in front of the door to Beomgyu and Taehyun's apartment. You and Beomgyu both agreed that you would be meeting him today for guitar practice, since you both didn't have school and you didn't have to work during the weekends.

You open the front camera to your phone so you could fix your hair and check your outfit one more time. You didn't want to show up wearing something too extra or too simple, so you asked Soobin for help to choose an outfit. You both ultimately decided on a cropped tee, high waisted jeans, and a pair of converse high tops that matched your outfit. You also wore light makeup to complete your look.

You have been standing in the empty hallway of their apartment for a at least 10 minutes, trying to make yourself look presentable, adjusting the length of you shirt, fixing your hair, and doing a quick retouch to your makeup. You were just making sure that you looked decent, it's not like you were trying to impress anyone, right?

After a lot of hesitation, you took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell and looked around while waiting for the door to open. You felt like your heart almost dropped to the floor when the door opens after a few seconds.

You look up and see a half-awake Beomgyu running his left hand through his hair, while his right hand holds the door open. He was dressed rather comfortably, it was very different to the usual dark outfits he wore outside whenever you met him in the cafe with Hyuka and Taehyun. Beomgyu wore a plain white t-shirt under an oversized black cardigan, and a pair of black pants. You were used to seeing him in his usual dark and "emo" fashion, but seeing a different side to Beomgyu felt new, but you liked it.

He greeted you with a smile before you letting you in and you followed him to his room. You looked around while you nervously stepped inside his room as he closes the door behind you. He had a bunch of band posters surrounding the walls of his room and you noticed he had a shelf stocked with albums of his favorite artists. You saw that he had 3 guitars displayed at the corner of his room, next to a desk where he had a computer setup. You couldn't describe it very well, but Beomgyu's room felt very him.

“You can sit on my bed, I'll go get the guitar.” he says as he goes to pick up the guitar.

You nodded and sat at the edge of his bed carefully. Your eyes followed Beomgyu's back as he prepares the guitar that he will be using to teach you. You started to tense up, remembering the familiar feeling that you've had during your first encounter with him at the store, your heart was beating louder and faster, and you were starting to feel nervous again.

You weren't expecting to get nervous especially after you thought you were finally comfortable being around with him, but the idea of you and Beomgyu being alone in his room made you feel more nervous than ever.

You've been to Soobin's room before to get a few things, and you've always hung out with Hyuka in his room countless times, but why did this feel different? Why were you so nervous about being alone with Beomgyu in his room when you were just going to get guitar lessons with him? The more you tried to think rationally and calm yourself down, your mind wasn't helping you.

The edge of the bed dips down at Beomgyu's weight as he sits down cross-legged beside you, carrying the guitar and repositioning it just above his thigh.

“You okay? You look so nervous.” he says with a laugh as he looks down while tuning the strings of the guitar.

How did he know? Was it too obvious? A hundred questions filled your mind. You were worried you might be overanalyzing everything.

“Y-yeah, I'm okay. I'm just nervous because I haven't played in years.” you answer with an awkward laugh.

That was one of them, but you couldn't possibly tell Beomgyu that you were nervous because you're alone with him in his room, could you? You hoped he wouldn't question you any further.

“That's alright. I'm here to teach you, so don't worry.” he assures you, looking to your direction and he smiles after your eyes meet.

You smile back, feeling a bit relieved. Maybe you were just worrying over nothing.

“Besides, Taehyun won't be coming home today. It's just going to be the two of us.” he says with a hint of mischievousness in his tone. “You won't have to worry about making mistakes, no one's gonna hear them except for me.”

The feeling of relief didn't last long as Beomgyu's words echoed in your head like crazy. You were already nervous even before he told you that, and now you couldn't calm yourself down even if you tried. Your heart was racing and you felt your cheeks heating up.

Beomgyu notices the change in your expression, making him chuckle. You look away, feeling more embarrassed that he's teasing you about it.

“Let's start with something easy. I'll show you first.”

Beomgyu starts playing the guitar, soon switching between two chords simultaneously. You turn to him, paying attention to how he plays. He starts humming along the tune of the song as he strums up and down.

(Now Playing: 505 by Arctic Monkeys)

He plays up till the first chorus, stopping right before the second verse. You clap your hands, genuinely amazed from what you just watched. Hyuka was right. Beomgyu was really good at playing the guitar, and you just saw it for yourself.

Beomgyu chuckles and shakes his head, feeling a bit embarrassed at your reaction. He hands you over the guitar, and you follow him, crossing your right leg over your left leg, and you position the guitar on top of your thigh.

“I really haven't played in years, so don't make fun of me, okay?” you mutter and he laughs, finding you adorable.

“I won't, I swear.” he then demonstrates how to do the chords, placing his fingers on top of his arm, mimicking how he presses the string of the guitar. “These are the two chords you need to remember, first Dm, and then Em.”

You copy how he positions his fingers and apply that on your end, pressing the strings eagerly. You look at him, trying to check his expression if you were doing it right. He tilts his head slightly, muttering a silent hum before moving. He scoots over right behind you.

“Do you mind?” he asks first, and you were taken aback by his actions, but you shake your head, assuring him that you were okay.

Beomgyu leans forward, finally closing the distance between the both of you and he slowly wraps his arms around you, placing his hands on top of yours, guiding your left fingers to show you how to do the chords properly while guiding your right hand to show you the correct strumming pattern. Beomgyu hums while he plays the song again, this time showing you how to do it on your end as moves your hands gently.

You thought you would be okay, and that you wouldn't mind since he was just going to teach you how, but now you couldn't think straight. All you could think about was how he rested his chin on your shoulder, how his deep voice while he was humming along tickled your ears, how gentle his hands felt on top of yours, how you felt completely enamored with his scent and how you felt his warmth on your back as he embraced you.

You're not the type to engage in any physical activity with anyone, even with your family or your closest friends. You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that it was your first time being this intimate with someone, and it was with Beomgyu.

You had hoped he wouldn't notice how you were basically starting to sweat from the nervousness, or how the sound of your own heart beating was louder than the guitar playing in front of you. You bit your lower lip, in hopes of hiding that you were having a hard time breathing from how fast your heartbeat was going at this point.

You were quickly brought back to your senses when you felt Beomgyu stop moving your hands and you hear him laugh.

“Geez, y/n. Were you even paying attention?” he slowly pulls away, gently letting go of your hands before moving beside you, leaving you almost frozen in place. You pull yourself together, clearing your throat before responding.

“Of course I did.” you replied, trying your best to sound normal. You were still having a hard time calming down and regaining composure, but you didn't want to get more obvious by the minute.

“Really? Show me how it's done, then.” Beomgyu says, flashing a grin while crossing his arms, paying full attention to you.

You looked at him nervously one more time before looking down to check if you positioned your fingers at the fret of the guitar correctly.

“If you do well, I'll grant one wish.” he offers, and you look up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“And if I don't?” you question. He wouldn't say that without having a catch, would he?

“Hmm... if you don't,” his voice grows deeper and more serious as he pauses before slightly leaning forward, not breaking eye contact. “Then maybe I should give you a little punishment for it.” he adds, the corner of his lips curling up to form a smirk.

You stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process what he just told you. After you realized what he just said, you were about to retort him when he cut you off.

“Nah, I'm just kidding.” he pauses with a laugh before adding, “We will just have to keep going until you get it right.”

--------------

“Y/n- Y/N!”

You were immediately brought back to your senses when you started to hear Soobin's voice echo in the background, fading in as if you just started to snap out of something.

“Are you okay? What's going on? This is like the third time today that I've seen you spacing out.” he muttered as he puts his both of his hands on your shoulders while facing you, visibly worried.

“Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that.” you mutter and immediately get back to work. You hear Soobin sigh before he took his hands off of your shoulders.

You rummage through the counter before looking up to greet the customer waiting in front of you.

“Good morning! What can I get for you to-”

You weren't able to finish your sentence as you lock eyes with Beomgyu, grinning at you. You felt your cheeks go warm and your heart skip a beat.

For the past few days, you just couldn't seem to get Beomgyu out of your head, especially after your first guitar session with him. It has gotten to the point that even your roommate has noticed you spacing out multiple times, which was unusual for you since you wouldn't usually have problems focusing on work, studies and even on house chores.

You thought you needed to pull yourself together when the source of your unusual antics suddenly appeared in front of you.

“Good morning, y/n. I'll just get my usual order, thanks.” Beomgyu smiles at you, handing over the payment for his order.

“I'm on it. I'll send it to your table in a few minutes.” you smile back at him, an attempt to somehow cover up the fact that you were getting nervous again whenever you were around his presence. He nods at you as a response before heading to his table.

You turned around to get started with Beomgyu's order when you notice Soobin looking at you, raising his eyebrow as he leans on the counter with his arms crossed.

“What?” you chuckled as you question the judging expression on his face.

“I think I might have a feeling I know what has been on your mind these days since you started acting weird... or should I say, 'who'.” Soobin replies and he made sure to emphasize the last part.

“It's really nothing, Soobs. I just have a lot on my mind recently, that's all. I swear I'll do better today, so don't worry too much.” you shrug, clearly getting at what he's implying to you before leaving the counter and working on Beomgyu's order.

You knew that Soobin would be the first to notice these things, so you wanted to stop the conversation there before it turns into another nagging session from him. You were reminded of the few times you noticed how he started to act like he was your father or something, especially when you weren't being yourself. You knew he always meant well, you just weren't in the mood for it at the moment.

Soobin stared at your back as you walked away from him, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He averts his gaze over to Beomgyu's table, and immediately gets taken aback when he sees Beomgyu glaring at him as if he was about to shoot daggers with his eyes. Soobin scoffs at the sight in disbelief.

You quickly finish Beomgyu's order, placing two chocolate chip cookies and an iced caramel macchiato onto the small tray. You slightly fixed your hair before heading to his table while carrying the tray that had his order.

As you walked towards him, you noticed that he was on his phone with wireless headphones resting on his head, covering both of his ears. Sunlight spills through the window, illuminating the little table where he was seated and perfectly emphasizing his defined features. Despite his dark-presenting exterior, you can't help but notice how his face looks so angelic. It almost felt like you were observing a painting.

He notices you getting closer and turns to you, smiling as your eyes met. You smiled back, hoping he wouldn't notice the tint of pink flushing your cheeks. He takes off his headphones and puts them down to rest on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck.

“Here's your cookies and iced caramel macchiato, Beomgyu.” you carefully place the cup of coffee and plate of cookies on the table, making sure not to spill anything or make a mess. He thanks you and smiled at him as a response.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” you say while you hold the now empty tray in your hands, about to turn around when he answered, stopping you in your tracks.

“You.”

Taken aback from his response, you looked back at him with a confused expression.

Did you mishear what he said? The grin plastered on his face when you looked back at him wasn't much help when you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Sit here with me. Let's talk for a bit.” he suggests, tapping the table as a gesture to invite you to sit down on the empty chair across him.

“Beomgyu, I'm-” you were about to decline his offer when he cuts you off.

“I know, but you always make time for us whenever we visit, and it's not that busy right now.” he looks around, observing the almost empty cafe. There were only three occupied tables, including his.

“Pretty please?” Beomgyu mutters. You were taken aback by the shift in his tone, and the change in his expression, especially how he looked up at you with almost puppy-like eyes that could convince literally anyone, you thought to yourself.

You sighed before placing the tray on the table and sat down facing him, taking him on his offer.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, okay?”

He smiles at you before taking a sip of the coffee you prepared for him. You noticed how his eyes widened after taking a sip and he nods slowly while savoring the drink, implying that he approves of it.

You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction. Soobin usually prepares the drinks while you're in charge of the counter but today wasn't a busy day so you decided to do Beomgyu's order. You were just glad that he liked it.

“So, where's Kai and Taehyun? Don't you guys usually come together?” you asked, a hint of curiosity visible in your tone. This was the first time he came by himself so you wondered if something had happened.

“Dunno. I never got to ask them. I'm sure they wouldn't really mind, though.” he replies almost nonchalantly as he continues to sip on his drink.

Not quite the answer you were expecting to get, but you didn't question him further. You rested your chin on the palm of your hand as you turned to the glass window just beside the table. Outside, the city wakes up, people hurrying past, but here, in the small and cozy space of the cafe, time feels like it slows down. A short moment of silence fills the air.

“Aren't you going to ask me why I came here so early?” Beomgyu mutters after a while, breaking the silence.

You look at him for a moment before saying anything. He also rested his chin on the palm of his hand, except he wasn't looking out the window, but facing you directly. It was almost as if he was observing you, and silently admiring your features. The thought of him gazing at you intently sent your mind spiraling and you almost felt like your heart was going to explode.

“Alright then, why did you come here by yourself so early?”

Beomgyu leans forward, slowly closing the distance between the both of you with his face still resting on his hand.

“It's because I wanted to see you.” Beomgyu replies, still staring into your eyes. His gaze was somehow intense, yet it felt gentle. His voice was deep and soft at the same time that it almost sounded like a whisper.

You sat there with widened eyes as a fluttering sensation begins in your stomach, like tiny wings beating against the walls of your insides. A mix of excitement and nervousness runs through your veins, a feeling that is only too familiar whenever you were with Beomgyu.

Your cheeks and ears were warm and you felt a weird sensation all over your body. You swore if he could come any closer he could probably hear the raging sound of your heartbeat by now. His answer pierced through your ears, and you were once again intoxicated by the effect he had on you.

You immediately turned away, breaking eye contact before you could completely get lost in your thoughts.

“You know you could still see me even if you went with the others, right?” you respond, a desperate attempt at trying to keep calm and handle the situation you were in.

“I know, but I want you to pay attention to me, just me. This is different.” he responds almost immediately, and you could tell he was serious despite not looking at him just by the tone of his voice.

“Well, you got what you wanted, I guess...” you muttered and you heard Beomgyu chuckle at your flustered state.

Your heart flutters, each beat echoing in your ears. You glance around to make sure no one, especially Beomgyu, hasn't noticed. The feeling is both delightful and awkward, leaving you wishing to disappear and yet wanting to bask in the sensation a little longer.

“Did you two fight or something?” Beomgyu asks and you looked at him with a confused expression on his face. You noticed that he was facing towards the counter, looking at Soobin. You realize that he was probably referring to what happened earlier.

“You mean Soobin? No, we didn't.” you answered and you heard a soft hum from him as a response.

“Huh... weird. It sure seemed like it.”

“He's just looking out for me, that's all.”

“Soobin.... he's not your boyfriend, is he?” Beomgyu mutters while fiddling with the straw from the iced caramel macchiato.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by Beomgyu’s question. The idea of Soobin being your boyfriend seemed completely out of left field. For a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. You quickly shook your head, trying to clear up the confusion before it could spiral further.

“Uh… What? Soobin? No, no, of course not,” you finally stammered, trying to shake off the strange feeling of discomfort that suddenly settled in your chest.

“He's just my roommate. We're just friends, nothing more than that.”

Beomgyu looked at you for a long second, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he were searching for something you weren't saying. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he fiddled with the straw, and it clicked. It made you wonder if he was trying to figure something out, something about you, maybe.

Wait. Is he... jealous?

Your heart raced a little faster, and you couldn’t help but glance away for a second to collect your thoughts. Why was he jealous?

You had to admit, you hadn’t really expected Beomgyu to react this way. His usual carefree attitude seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something else. You couldn't ignore it anymore, the slight edge in his voice, the way his gaze kept flicking between you and Soobin, like he was trying to measure something.

“Beomgyu,” you started, your voice slightly shaky, “You don’t have to worry about Soobin. I mean, he’s just looking out for me like he always does. But there’s nothing between us, really.” You felt your cheeks heat up, and you prayed he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, but there was that familiar wariness in them now, like he was still trying to process what you were saying. “It just seemed like you two were...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. His eyes kept darting between you and Soobin, and you could feel his unease pressing against you.

Beomgyu cleared his throat, suddenly shifting in his seat. His eyes avoided yours now, focusing on the iced caramel macchiato in front of him as he stirred the straw absentmindedly, like he was trying to regain some composure.

“I... I didn’t mean to make things weird,” he muttered, his voice much quieter than before.“I was just asking.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. It was as if he was backpedaling, trying to pull away from the conversation as quickly as possible.

“No, Beomgyu, it’s okay,” you said quickly, your voice a little more steady than you felt. “I just… I didn’t expect you to be so concerned. I promise, there's nothing going on between me and Soobin. You don’t need to worry.”

Beomgyu looked at you briefly, but his expression softened, his eyes a little unsure. “Yeah, I know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.“I just... I don’t know. It seemed like you two were acting weird earlier, like—” He cut himself off, suddenly aware that he was still digging himself deeper.

“Anyway, forget I said anything. I’m probably just overthinking it.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the flustered feeling bubbling up again. It wasn’t lost on you that Beomgyu was avoiding your eyes now, his usual carefree demeanor completely replaced with a subtle, almost embarrassed unease.

You couldn’t deny it—he was definitely jealous, even if he wasn’t openly admitting it. The realization made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.

You opened your mouth to say something more, to try to reassure Beomgyu that everything was fine and that his worries were unnecessary. But before you could get the words out, Soobin’s voice rang through the air, cutting off the fragile moment before it could go any further.

“Y/N!” Soobin called, his tone light but firm as he approached the counter. “Break’s over. You’re needed back at the register.”

You blinked, startled by the interruption. For a second, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, almost like you had been given an escape route before the conversation could get any more complicated. You didn’t know what you would have said next, or if you would have been able to keep your composure if the moment between you and Beomgyu had stretched on.

“Right,” you muttered quickly, the words coming out a little too fast. You shot a glance at Beomgyu, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I have to get back to work. My break's over.”

You were about to stand up, already feeling the pressure of the conversation lifting, when Beomgyu’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch was warm and firm, but there was an unmistakable softness to it, like he didn’t want to let go just yet.

You froze, your heart pounding at the unexpected contact. Beomgyu’s fingers felt like they had a quiet weight to them, as though he was holding onto something that mattered more than either of you had acknowledged.

“Wait,” Beomgyu said quietly, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes met yours, and there was something deeper there, something more vulnerable than you’d ever seen from him before.

“Before you go... just... I don’t know. Don’t think I’m trying to avoid what we were talking about. I just—”

He stopped himself, like he was second-guessing his words. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was your chance to clarify things, to make sure he didn’t misinterpret everything that had been said. But then, that familiar tension crept in, the same kind of nervousness that always seemed to bubble up around him. You weren’t sure if either of you were ready for it to go deeper, but the connection between you was undeniable now.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, trying to hide the nervousness in your chest. “I know, Beomgyu,” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to explain anything. We’ll figure it out, but right now, I need to get back to work.”

You felt his grip on your wrist loosen just a little, but he didn’t let go completely. His eyes softened, and you could tell he was still thinking about something, still processing everything you had said. He seemed torn, like he didn’t want to let you leave without resolving the unspoken tension, but at the same time, he knew he had to.

“Let's talk when you come over.” he said, his voice more steady now, though there was still a hint of hesitation. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

You nodded quickly, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment at the way things had left off. Before you could second-guess yourself, you gently pulled your hand away from his, standing up and walking toward Soobin, who was now holding the door to the kitchen open for you.

As you passed by, you stole one last glance at Beomgyu, who was staring at the table, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his cup. You couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next, if his feelings for you were as complicated as they seemed, or if he would keep pushing them down.

Either way, you knew that things were changing. And for better or for worse, the dynamic between you and Beomgyu had just become a lot more complicated.

For now, though, all you could do was focus on your shift. Or try to, at least.

----------------------

A few days had passed since that awkward, yet strangely intimate, conversation with Beomgyu at the café. The words you had almost said, those feelings you were still trying to figure out—kept swirling in your mind, replaying over and over. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d thought about it the same way, if he felt anything close to what you had felt in that moment.

Today, you were standing in front of Beomgyu’s apartment door, your hand hovering nervously over the doorknob. The familiar flutter of nerves settled in your stomach, but this time, it felt different.

There was a weight to the air that hadn’t been there before—the unspoken tension between you both, lingering after that conversation at the café.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. You had been looking forward to this guitar tutorial session for weeks, but now, knowing that things might not be as simple as before, it felt harder than ever.

Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you’d be fine. It was just a guitar lesson. Just like it always was.

With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could meet the door, it opened.

Beomgyu stood there, looking just as you remembered: casually dressed, his hair a little messy in that endearing way, and that usual glint of mischief in his eyes. But something was different this time. There was a small pause as his eyes met yours—just a moment longer than usual, before he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm, though there was still an undercurrent of something unspoken between you.

You nodded quickly, managing a small smile, though your heart was still in your throat.

“Hey, Beomgyu,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you stepped inside, your hand lightly brushing past his as you entered his apartment.

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into Beomgyu’s apartment, the familiar smell of his space greeting you, but today, everything felt different. The usual easy vibe between you two seemed a little distant, as if there were invisible threads tugging between you both that neither of you could quite untangle.

Beomgyu didn’t seem his usual carefree self—his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more guarded. His gaze flickered to you, hesitant, before he motioned for you to follow him.

“Let’s go to my room,” Beomgyu said quietly, standing in front of his living room with his hand on the hallway door, as if he was still trying to decide whether or not he was ready to address whatever awkwardness hung in the air.

You nodded, biting your lip as your heart raced in your chest. Was he going to bring up what happened?

Was he still thinking about that moment at the café when everything seemed to shift between you two?

You followed him down the hallway, and the closer you got to his room, the more nervous you became. The space felt smaller somehow, more intimate now that you were both stepping into it with this new, unspoken tension lingering between you.

Beomgyu pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you enter. The room was exactly as you remembered it—his bed pushed up against the far wall, a few posters of bands scattered on the walls, his guitar resting on a stand beside his desk. Everything felt oddly familiar, but the space seemed charged now, in a way it hadn’t before.

You hesitated before stepping inside, but Beomgyu quickly gestured for you to take a seat on the bed, which you did, sitting slightly at the edge.

“Uh, so... we can just start the lesson whenever,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual, not wanting to acknowledge the tension that was settling into the space between you.

But Beomgyu didn’t seem interested in starting the lesson just yet. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of his chest. There was a noticeable hesitation in his posture, a stiffness that told you he was trying to figure out what to say.

“You know,” Beomgyu started slowly, his voice quieter than usual, “I’ve been thinking about what happened at the café.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of it, the conversation you’d tried so hard to move past resurfacing unexpectedly. You blinked, looking at him, trying to push down the flustered feeling rising in your chest.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean for it to get so weird,” he continued, his eyes not meeting yours as he fidgeted with his hands. “But I just—I don't know, I thought... maybe I was being too obvious? About, you know...” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable, but you could hear the unease in his voice.

You quickly shook your head, trying to reassure him. “No, Beomgyu, it’s not like that. You didn’t make things weird,” you said, though you couldn’t quite hide the nerves in your voice.“It’s just... things have been a little confusing lately, that’s all.”

The words felt like they were floating in the air, hanging between you both. Beomgyu finally turned his gaze to you, and you could see the uncertainty there, the way he was searching your face for something—maybe an answer, or maybe just a sign that everything was okay.

“It’s not just that,” he said, his voice a little more serious now. “I—look, I don’t want you to think I was being jealous or anything, but... I was. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been acting like a jerk, right? I'm sorry, y/n.”

You weren’t sure how to answer, your heart hammering in your chest. Hearing him say it out loud, jealous, made something inside you tighten. Was that what this was all about? Was that why the air between you two had felt so charged, so different since that day? So he really was jealous?

“Beomgyu...” you started, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I just... I wasn’t expecting it either. I didn’t think you’d feel that way.”

Beomgyu’s gaze softened as he pushed off from the door and walked over to sit next to you on the bed.

His presence was warm, but there was still a tension there, lingering in the space between you. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly still wrestling with what he wanted to say next.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being weird,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But I don’t want things to stay awkward between us, either.”

You could feel your heart race in your chest again, the unspoken words hanging in the air, thick with all the things neither of you wanted to say outright. You shifted slightly, trying to find a way to diffuse the growing pressure between you both, to make the conversation feel lighter.

“So,” you started, voice just a little too high, “About today’s lesson... What are we working on? Did you want to go over that new song you were learning?”

Beomgyu gave a soft chuckle at your attempt to change the subject, but it wasn’t one of his usual playful laughs. This one felt a little more resigned, like he was unsure whether or not to just give in to the moment. He turned his gaze toward you, searching for something in your face.

“We can work on the song,” Beomgyu replied, but his voice still held that quiet, heavy undertone.“But, honestly, Y/N, I don’t want to avoid what’s been going on between us. I don’t think it’ll go away just by pretending everything’s fine.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioning, and you wondered if he was just as nervous as you were.

Finally, he sighed, and you saw his shoulders drop, as if he were gathering his courage. He walked toward you, but instead of sitting beside you, he took a step back, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Beomgyu said suddenly, his voice low but clear. The words hung in the air like a confession, and you froze, unsure of how to react.“A lot. More than I’d like to admit.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you blinked, trying to process what he was saying. He hadn’t seemed like himself lately, and the fact that he was bringing this up now, in this quiet, vulnerable moment, threw you off. Was he really about to say what you thought he was?

“You’ve been on my mind,” Beomgyu continued, his voice growing softer but more earnest. “It’s been... hard to stop thinking about what happened at the café. I didn’t mean to come off like I was... jealous, but I guess I was. And I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t feel something for you. Something more than just friendship.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the weight of his words. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I like you, Y/N.” Beomgyu admitted, his eyes finally meeting yours. There was no teasing, no playful glint in his gaze this time. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. “And I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t anymore. I... I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve been wanting to tell you, and I feel stupid that it took so long for me to say it, but I didn't know how.”

You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs as his confession hung between you two. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker, and you weren’t sure if it was the proximity or the weight of his words making everything seem so intense.

“Wait... Beomgyu, I—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. You couldn’t deny it—your heart had been racing every time he looked at you, every time you caught his gaze. The truth was, you’d always felt a pull toward him, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel so much more real.

Beomgyu stepped closer, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge how you were feeling. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I’ve been worried, Y/N. Worried that you wouldn’t feel the same way, or that it might ruin our friendship. But I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want something more.”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. You’d thought about this moment before, what it would be like if Beomgyu ever admitted he liked you, if he ever acknowledged the feelings that had been growing between you two. And now, standing here in his room, it was happening.

It was all unfolding right before you.

“I’m not asking for anything crazy, or for us to figure everything out right now,” Beomgyu said, his voice a little softer now. “I just needed you to know how I feel. Because it’s been eating at me, and I don’t want to keep pretending like everything is just... normal between us when it’s not. Not for me, at least.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the world outside fading away as everything settled into this quiet space. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was filled with everything you both hadn’t been able to say before.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding through you. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words felt tangled in your chest. You looked up at Beomgyu, his expression uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart ache.

“Beomgyu...” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about you too. More than I probably should. It's gotten to the point that even Soobin noticed, and that's... that's why you thought we were fighting that day, he was just worried because I was acting so weird. God, I couldn't focus on work because you kept getting in my thoughts.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you could see a flicker of hope pass across his face. You took another breath, feeling your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t know what this means yet,” you continued, trying to find the right words. “But I don’t want to ignore it either. I... I like you too, Beomgyu. I feel the same way.”

The words felt surreal as they left your lips, but the moment they did, the weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying seemed to lift. There was no more confusion, no more guessing. The tension, the uncertainty, it all seemed to fade in the wake of your admission.

There was a beat of silence before his expression seemed to shift, and a mischievous grin slowly tugged at the corners of his lips. The serious mood that had filled the room suddenly felt... lighter. It was like he was shaking off the tension, returning to his usual self.

“Well, well,” Beomgyu teased, leaning forward slightly as his grin widened. “I always knew I was irresistible.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Your heart still thudded in your chest, but now you couldn’t help but laugh a little at his cocky, teasing nature returning. His usual playful energy was back in full force, and it made you feel a little more at ease. He wasn't letting this moment get heavy, and it made you realize that maybe you didn’t have to be so serious either.

“Oh my god, Beomgyu,” you muttered, trying to hide the amused smile creeping onto your face. “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckled, sitting down beside you on the bed and nudging you with his elbow. “Nah, I’m just being honest. I mean, who wouldn’t like this face?” He exaggerated a pout, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint.

“Alright, alright,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to stop laughing. “We get it, you're so charming.”

As Beomgyu's teasing continued, you couldn’t help but notice something unusual. His eyes, which usually had that dark, defining line of eyeliner, were... bare. The usual sharp, bold look was missing, and for some reason, it stood out to you more than it should have.

You couldn’t help yourself—your curiosity got the best of you, and you blinked at him for a moment, distracted from his usual antics. “Wait,” you said, squinting at him. “You’re not wearing eyeliner today.”

Beomgyu froze, his playful grin faltering slightly as he looked at you, clearly surprised you’d noticed. For a brief second, he seemed unsure of what to say, and then, in true Beomgyu fashion, his mischievous smirk returned.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back with an exaggerated air of casualness. “You'd have to observe my face really closely to notice something like this, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “It’s just that, you always wear it. But today... you’re not. You didn't have eyeliner on during the last time I came, too.”

Beomgyu shrugged, his expression shifting slightly as he looked at you with a glint of something more thoughtful in his eyes.“I don’t know. Maybe I just felt like going natural today.” His voice was light, but there was a hint of something beneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite place.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, knowing he was trying to downplay it. “Uh-huh. So you just happen to forget your eyeliner... whenever you’re alone with me?”

His eyes flickered to the side, and he cleared his throat, trying to mask his slight discomfort with more teasing. “Maybe I just like the idea of being a little more... natural around you. You know, showing the real me and all that.” He looked at you with a playful grin, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely fooling you.

You tilted your head, half-amused and half-curious.“Is that so? Or maybe you just don’t want me to see you looking too good for me.”

“Maybe I just think you’ll get too distracted if I look too good,” he shot back with a wink, though his words were softer than usual, his teasing tone lacking some of its usual edge. You couldn’t help but laugh, but you felt your cheeks flush a little.

“Right, because that’s totally what I was thinking about,” you teased back, your voice light but warm.“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to not wear eyeliner around me.”

Beomgyu grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, now you know. And maybe you’ll get used to seeing me like this.” He reached out and poked you lightly in the side, trying to shift the conversation back to the usual playful rhythm. “Don’t be too disappointed, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, the hint of a smile still on your lips.“Disappointed? You wish.”

Beomgyu chuckled, clearly relieved that the teasing was easing the tension. “Okay, okay. Maybe I just didn’t feel like being all emo today,” he admitted, but there was a softness to his expression now, a kind of openness that made you feel like maybe this little moment meant something more.

You let out a small breath, your smile growing a little warmer. “Well, you still look good. Eyeliner or not.”

His grin widened at that, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I already knew that.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the conversation turning into a more comfortable banter after the initial awkwardness had melted away. Beomgyu, now fully back to his usual playful self, leaned back against the bed with his arms stretched out, looking at you with that familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, winking as he stretched lazily. “Am I pulling off the ‘no eyeliner’ look or what?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You look fine without it, Beomgyu. But,” you said, your fingers brushing your chin thoughtfully, “If you really want to go back to your usual style, I could always do it for you.”

Beomgyu blinked, clearly taken aback by your offer. “Huh?” he said, his expression confused but intrigued. “You want to... do my eyeliner? Like, for me?”

You tilted your head as you looked at him, feeling a little sheepish but also excited to see if you could make it work. “I mean... I really think I could do a good job,” you said, shrugging a little awkwardly. “I’ve done my fair share of makeup to know the basics.”

Beomgyu’s eyes sparkled with amusement at your suggestion, but instead of teasing you like he usually would, he simply grinned and leaned back on the bed with his arms crossed. He gave you a thoughtful look, as if weighing your words.

“You really want to try it? Alright, I won’t stop you,” he said, his voice playful and low. Rising from the bed, he walked over to his desk, spun the gaming chair around to face you, and settled into it comfortably.

You felt a small rush of pride that he wasn’t dismissing your offer, and your hands twitched with anticipation.“Yeah, I do. I mean, you’ve always done it, so I think it’d be fun to try.”

Beomgyu smiled, but there was a glint in his eyes, like he was planning something. “Alright,” he said, his tone turning casual, “If you’re going to do it, though... you’re going to need to get closer. I don’t think you can do it from over there.”

You blinked, taken aback by his suggestion, but he wasn’t giving you much time to question it. Beomgyu raised an eyebrow and shrugged, his voice casual but almost inviting.“I mean, it’s kind of hard to get a good angle from the side, right? You need to be up close.”

Your heart raced a little at the sudden proximity. You had expected this to be a bit more... casual, but you weren’t sure why it suddenly felt a little different. Still, you didn’t want to back out now. You were genuinely curious about doing his eyeliner, and there was no harm in being closer for that, right?

“Uh... I guess that makes sense,” you said, hesitating for just a moment before you moved forward.

Beomgyu, noticing your hesitation, gave you a reassuring smile and gently patted his lap. “It’s really the best angle,” he said, his voice soft but with a slight teasing edge. “You can sit on my lap, you know. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable.”

You froze for a moment, a little unsure, but Beomgyu’s expression wasn’t demanding. It was calm, almost like he was offering an invitation instead of an expectation. He was giving you the space to say no if you wanted to.

As you hesitated, Beomgyu's eyes sparkled with amusement, and he patted his lap invitingly. “Come on, it's the only way you'll be able to get close enough to do it right,” he said, his voice low and persuasive.

You felt your face grew hotter as your heart fluttered in your chest, but you tried to brush it off as mere embarrassment.

Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself slowly making your way towards Beomgyu, your heart racing with every step. As you hovered beside him, Beomgyu reached out and gently guided you onto his lap, his hands on your hips sending shivers down your spine. As you settled onto Beomgyu's lap, you felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness. You had never done anyone's eyeliner before, and you were eager to try it out on Beomgyu.

“Okay, go ahead,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on yours. “I'm all yours, y/n.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the eyeliner, trying to focus on the task at hand. But it was impossible to ignore the warmth of Beomgyu's body beneath you, or the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

You began to carefully line his eyes, you notice how Beomgyu's gaze never left yours, his pupils seeming to bore into your very soul. Your skin prickled with awareness, and you felt yourself getting lost in the depths of his eyes. The air around the both of you grew thick with tension, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were reading too much into the situation.

Beomgyu would occasionally ask you if you were comfortable, if you needed to adjust your position, or if he was holding you too tightly. Each time, you would reassure him that you were fine, and Beomgyu would smile at you gently. The tension between you was palpable, but it was a gentle, simmering heat, rather than a raging fire.

You wanted to do your best, to make sure the lines were perfect and the wings were even. But as you leaned in closer to Beomgyu's face, you realized that your current position wasn't ideal.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you mutter, looking up at Beomgyu with a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Beomgyu nodded, his expression curious, and you asked,“Can I change positions? I want to get a better angle and be more comfortable.”

Beomgyu nodded again, not thinking much of it. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he said, his voice casual. But as soon as you started to shift your weight, Beomgyu's eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait, y/n-”

You straddle Beomgyu's lap, your legs wrapping around his hips as you settled into a more comfortable position.“I'm going to need you to stay still, Beomgyu.” you taunt, voice firm but gentle, as you leaned in closer to his face.“I don't want the eyeliner to smudge.”

Beomgyu's face went bright red as he felt your weight settle onto his lap. He hadn't expected this, and his mind was racing with thoughts he couldn't quite process. He felt a surge of excitement mixed with a dash of nervousness, but he was determined not to mess this up for you.

You noticed how Beomgyu held his breath, trying to remain still despite the turmoil inside him while you continued to work on his eyeliner. He couldn't believe what was happening, but at the same time, he didn't want it to stop. He felt your thighs wrapped around his hips, your hand holding his shoulder for support, and the way you tried to maintain your composure despite your arms clearly trembling while holding the eyeliner.

He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer, but Beomgyu was determined to let you take the lead and set the pace. So he sat there, frozen in place, as you worked your magic on his eyeliner. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe, for fear of ruining the moment.

As you continued to work on Beomgyu's eyeliner, the tension between you grew thicker and more palpable. Beomgyu's resolve to remain still and calm began to crumble, and he found himself getting more and more agitated. He couldn't take it anymore, the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his hips, your warmth and scent enveloping him, it was all too much for him. He was drunk in the thought of you, and he couldn't bring himself to hold back any longer.

“Beomgyu, I'm done-”

With a muttered curse, Beomgyu's hands shot out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a startled gasp as you felt yourself being drawn into Beomgyu's chest, your hands still holding the eyeliner hovering in mid-air.

Beomgyu's face was buried in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered apologies and silent curses. Your heart was racing as you felt Beomgyu's warm breath on your skin, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

As you shifted in Beomgyu's lap, your eyes immediately widened after you felt Beomgyu's strained hard cock, poking your core, and you couldn't help but let out a little gasp. You tried to pull away in panic, your hands pushing against Beomgyu's chest. But Beomgyu's grip was firm, as he held you close, his body trembling with restraint, as he whispered,

“Fuck, y/n- I'm sorry.... please, don't leave.. I'm sorry, I didn't-”

You felt your resistance begin to crumble as you heard his voice, breathy and desperate. You realized that he wasn't trying to hurt you or overpower you, he was just...lost. Lost in the moment, lost in his desire for you. You let Beomgyu hold you tightly with his arms wrapped around your waist, as he tried to compose himself.

You loosen your grip on your fists, slowly moving your hands from his chest up to his shoulders, and you let Beomgyu hold you. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, his heart pounding against your own. You didn’t know when it happened, but slowly, you stopped fighting the heat of the moment.

Instead of feeling embarrassed or self-conscious, you started to embrace it, letting your body relax into the tension and giving yourself permission to enjoy this closeness with Beomgyu. Before you knew it, Beomgyu's touch was starting to get to you, and your mind was taking you places.

“It's okay, Beomgyu... I-” you whispered, pausing for a bit to catch your breath as you started get lost in the situation too. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Beomgyu's lips were still brushing against your neck, his warm breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. The warmth in your body only grew as time passes, the both of you not uttering another word but your heavy breaths filled the air.

Your thoughts were racing, and a crazy idea suddenly pops up in your head. You hesitated for a moment, before biting your lip and leaning closer to him. Beomgyu feels you shift in his lap and your grip on his shoulder start to tighten.

“Um.. Do you want me to move..?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to hide your face in embarrassment.

Beomgyu's eyes snapped to yours, and he looked at you, feeling dazed with a mix of surprise and gratitude. “No, it's okay,” he said, his voice still low and husky. “I'll just...ah, try to calm down.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, feeling your cheeks heating up. “No, I-I want to..... let me help you, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu's face turns red, and he looked like he was about to die from embarrassment. His lips parted for a moment to say something but he stopped himself before could. He looks at you straight in the eyes and you could physically feel yourself get weak, the ache in your already wet cunt only growing as he observed the mix of curiosity and eagerness in your expression.

After a few seconds, he nodded while his eyes were still locked onto yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, y/n... I need you.”

The sight of the desperation in his face and his breathy, apologetic voice was more than enough to ignite the flame that was already burning inside of you. You held him closer, resting your chin on top of his head attempting to relieve the heat in your core as you tried to tighten the embrace of your thighs on his hips.

The slight movement from you sends a jolt in Beomgyu's body, and he bites his lip, trying to keep himself from being too loud as he holds you closer and buries his face on your chest. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks heating up as you carefully adjust your position, feeling his hard-on press onto your underwear from below your skirt, the friction driving the both of you crazy.

“Y-you sure about this, y/n? We really don't have to do this if you-” Beomgyu asks hesitantly as he looks up to you, with a look of guilt and embarrassment visible on his face.

“Yes, Beomgyu. I want to do this with you.” You replied with a smile, trying to mask the fact that you were also nervous about what was going to happen next, but you didn't want Beomgyu to think you were unsure.

You started off by moving slowly, trying to test the waters first while asking Beomgyu every now and then if you were doing okay, you wanted to make sure that you were matching his pace and the both of you were feeling good. You kept one of your hands on his shoulders, and you moved your other hand on top of his, that was holding your waist.

“Beomgyu..” you whisper, catching your breath before finishing your sentence and pressing his hand on your waist tighter. “Y-you can move..me- if you want..”

Beomgyu nods before leaning his head back on his gaming chair, grunting and hissing in pleasure. His grip on your waist gets tighter and more desperate as he moves you to grind on him back and forth.

The wetness of your cunt leaking through your panties, mixed with Beomgyu's precum that was already staining his pants, felt more prominent and made it easier for you to move yourself on top of him. The friction in itself was already driving you crazy, but it still wasn't enough. You wanted to do more for Beomgyu, and you needed more of him.

Beomgyu would give you praises through it, he would tell you how beautiful you looked and how good you were making him feel, and before you even realized, you were already drowning in the feeling of ecstasy.

Your heavy breaths soon turned into whines of pleasure, the feeling of desperation and need for each other was constantly growing. You felt your movements get sloppier by the minute as you felt yourself about to reach your high.

“Shit, y/n... I'm close... you're doing so good for me.” Beomgyu mutters while he starts to move your hips against him faster and more aggressively, looking straight into you with half-lidded eyes. You match his pace, gripping his shoulders tighter as you continues to chase out your high.

“M-me too, Beomgyu...” You replied as you ran one hand through his messy hair. The way he calls your name with his deep voice echoes through your ears and the fucked-out look on his face only riled you up even more. You swore you could feel yourself release then and there.

You slightly tilted your head, and Beomgyu immediately catches your drift, closing his eyes as you leaned in closer to kiss him when-

Knock, knock.

“Beomgyu hyung, we're here.” a familiar voice mutters from outside Beomgyu's room, just behind the door.

“Beomgyu hyung! I brought pizza~ is y/n here yet?” another voice exclaims, and you heard footsteps coming from outside the door. You were certain that it came from Kai, while the voice before him was certainly none other than Taehyun's.

You and Beomgyu immediately stopped what you were doing and froze in place with your eyes wide open, as if you both just snapped out of a trance. Beomgyu's expression suddenly shifts after his sudden realization of what was going on.

“Oh fuck, I forgot I invited them to come over today...”

-------------------

taglist: @tubasmiracle @tyunzznluvr @interestellear-blog @no1likemybbgcharlie @hyunelixbun @dawngyu this fic is dedicated to my lovely supportive moots <333 lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[hederasgarden]

Eternal Devotion (3/3)

Summary: Months after your husband's untimely death, his presence lingers, haunting you in ways you never expected.  Pairing: Vampire!Friedrich Harding x Wife!Reader   Word Count: 6.6K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, period typical sexism, creepy things, vampirism, blood, and sexual content. Not all themes are tagged. A/N:  The reader has always been Friedrich’s wife, Anna does not exist in this AU. Big thanks to @ryebecca, @otaku-girl-ao3, @whatblogisthis216 , @eremeldanin and @bellrose for their help with this fic.   Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

"When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it." - Caitlyn Siehl 

In the quiet of your bedroom, you find yourself suddenly shy as you watch Friedrich move through the space you once shared as if he never left at all. He shrugs off his coat, untying his cravat and tosses it carelessly across the chair along with his gloves. When he sees you lingering in the doorway, a sweet, amused smile plays at the corners of his lips.

"Come here, my love," he calls softly, his hand reaching out, waiting for yours.

You step into his embrace, and he inhales deeply.

“You are a vision in red,” he whispers, trailing the back of his hand down your bare arm, the cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “And your smell,” he groans, “I have missed it.”

You turn your head, lips gliding over his cheek before finding his mouth. His hands slide to your waist, but he stays still, letting you guide the kiss. You moan and the sound seems to awaken something within him, the pressure on your sides increasing until it forces the air from your lungs painfully. In response, you curl your fingers into the rich fabric of his shirt, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t respond to your distress, his mouth moving hungrily over yours, his tongue ravenous for a taste of you.

Blood roars in your ears, and you sway on your feet, dizzy and desperate for air. When his mouth finally leaves yours, you gasp, your body sagging in his arms. Yet even then Friedrich does not seem to notice. He grasps the back of your neck tightly, his lips trailing down the curve of your jaw to brush the soft underside of your throat.

You whimper his name, and the sound seems to shake him from his fervor. He pulls back, his blue eyes shadowed in the flickering candlelight. You expect to find him breathless, undone, but his chest hardly rises with effort. 

“You afflict me so,” he murmurs, staring back at you. 

You’ve known Friedrich for more than half your life, every look, every gesture of his as familiar as your own, yet the expression on his face now is one you cannot place. Tentatively you touch the center of his chest and he shudders, passing a shaky hand over his mouth. He looks so pale and drained, and in that moment you feel foolish for forgetting all he’s done to return to you.

“You must be exhausted,” you say, withdrawing from him. “You should rest.”

Haltingly, as though it pains him, he nods in agreement. 

Together you help each other get ready for bed, slipping into the easy, comforting routine like no time has passed. Friedrich unlaces your corset and the feel of his cool fingers tracing the length of your spine sends a shiver through you. Once you are both undressed you slip under the covers together, and for the first time in nearly ten months, you fall into a deep, quiet slumber, wrapped in your husband’s arms. 

–

You wake in the morning to find the bed cool and empty beside you. Terror seizes your chest and for one awful moment, you fear that last night was nothing but a dream, your mind's desperate attempt to fill the unbearable emptiness inside you. You scramble from the bed, hands trembling as you search the room for any sign of him.

It’s then that you hear it, the low rumble of masculine laughter, followed by a giggle and a sharp squeal of delight from down the hall. Hastily, you slip into your morning robe, tightening it around your waist. The floor creaks beneath your feet as you make your way to your daughters’ bedroom. There, Friedrich sits on the floor, surrounded by their scattered toys, your youngest in his lap, her laughter rising and falling with each flurry of kisses he presses to her face. Your oldest clings to his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her giggles mixing with her sister’s joy.

"I fear we have woken your mother," Friedrich mock-whispers to them playfully.

"It was a pleasing way to wake," you assure him, crossing the room to open the curtains and let in the bright morning light.

"No, Mama!" your youngest cries, her shriek of alarm halting you in your tracks. She tugs at your hand with both of hers.

"You mustn't let the light in," your oldest adds, breathless with urgency.

Perplexed, you glance at Friedrich, but he simply raises his brow. Seeing the serious look in your children's eyes, you realize whatever game they’re playing must be more important to them than you’d first thought.

“Alright, alright,” you relent, allowing your daughter to pull you away from the windows and towards Friedrich. 

He’s quick to pull you down to sit in his lap. One of his hands rests on your thigh, while the other rubs soothing circles on your hip. Together, you watch your children, their sweet faces so unburden and happy as they dart from one end of the room to the other. They are breathless with energy. 

“Mama, I am hungry,” your youngest announces. 

“Must we go downstairs to eat? I want Papa to stay here with us!” your eldest whines.

"Perhaps we should take our breakfast here then," you suggest with a mischievous smile, glancing behind you at Friedrich. "They seem quite intent on their game."

“My love,” he protests. “You would have us eat on the floor, like some…bohemians?” he asks, scandalized by the very thought. 

You bite your bottom lip, struggling to hold back the smile that threatens to break through. For a man so concerned with propriety and restraint, your husband showed remarkably little of either when it came to his desire for you. It’s almost amusing that breakfast in your rooms seems to be where he draws the line.

"Oh yes, please, Papa, can we?" your daughters beg, their eyes wide with excitement.

Friedrich looks between you and the children before letting out a short, incredulous laugh. "We are civilized people, not some…wandering artists!”

“It is just for today,” you promise him, hoping to sway him with the softness of your voice.

The tension in his face eases and before he speaks you know you’ve won. With a resigned sigh he says, “You know I cannot deny you anything.”

The children cheer, moving to arrange cushions and blankets around them, boundless in their joy. The rest of the day is spent lounging in their rooms and enjoying the assortment of food brought by the servants. You feel a deep sense of contentment and safety, your head resting on Friedrich’s shoulder as you watch your daughters spring across the room, performing a dizzying, convoluted play just for the two of you.

When dusk settles you withdraw from him reluctantly, all too aware the real world awaits you. 

“We should prepare for dinner,” you say. “My parents will arrive soon.”

“I sent word to them this morning to cancel.” He glances at you before returning his attention back to your children.

You look up at him, surprised. “I know you are…unhappy with my father,” you begin, but he cuts you off with a sharp look.

“That is a matter I will address with him myself,” he says, the abrupt shift in his tone making it clear the discussion is closed. When you draw away from him, surprised, his features soften into something more familiar and kind. He squeezes your waist reassuringly. “For now,” he continues, “I simply want to spend time with my wife and children, without distraction. They can come in a week's time. Perhaps two.”

"Of course," you agree, your heart lifting. 

You want nothing more than to hide away with your family, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Friedrich sighs, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb before urging you to share a sweet, lingering kiss with him.

–

The weeks that follow are some of the happiest of your life. 

Despite the very real demands of Friedrich’s work and the countless matters that require his attention to set right everything left undone during his absence, he gives you and the girls his full attention during the day. Every one of their whims is indulged with patience and tenderness. He is rarely far from you, his presence a steady comfort, except in the evenings when he retreats to his office to bury himself in his work. It feels like the best kind of dream, one you never want to wake from.

Yet, as the days pass, you can’t help but notice how your time apart has changed him. Most of them are small, almost unnoticeable oddities that you assume must be from all he’s endured to return to you. But then there are the other changes, the ones that loom larger and give you pause. The servants whisper about them in hushed tones, their concern barely concealed. Your parents notice it too when they come for dinner, nearly two weeks after their original visit was postponed. Their eyes linger on Friedrich, an unspoken disquiet in their gaze that they don’t quite manage to hide.

“It is rather...dim in here,” your mother remarks politely, her gaze shifting past you to the drawn curtains of the dining room. 

The heavy fabrics keep out the last remnants of daylight and candlelight illuminates the room, casting shadows on the walls. The servants keep them burning constantly, there’s no other choice with the sun so often shut out at your husband’s request.

"The sunlight hurts my eyes," Friedrich replies as he pushes a fork idly around his plate, the food barely touched. 

You glance at your father, whose attention is fixed on your husband, a quiet scrutiny in his gaze.

“He spent so long below deck in the ship's hold," you explain. “The doctors said it would take time to adjust.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” your mother says, though there’s something in the way she says it that suggests she’s not quite as convinced. “And the children do not mind?”

Friedrich tenses, the hand resting on the table curling into a fist. You’re quick to cover it with your own. He exhales, the tension leaving his body in a slow release. Beneath your touch, his fist gradually unfurls, and he turns his hand palm up, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“No,” you tell your mother. 

Truthfully you had worried how the children would react to the near-perpetual dimness at first, but they seemed to adjust to it with surprising ease. Now, the shadowed corners of your home no longer faze them though you make a special effort to take them outside, letting them soak up the sunlight.

“That is good,” your mother replies earnestly before falling silent.

You’re thankful for your daughters, whose sweet voices fill the silence with excited chatter. It should be comforting to speak with your mother and children, but you’re all too aware of the quiet tension between your husband and father. Neither man seems at ease. In the past, your father and Friedrich were always polite to each other — respectful, but never truly friendly.

It’s almost a relief when the meal finally comes to an end and the servants begin clearing the dishes. You don’t comment on how little Friedrich has eaten. Each time you’ve brought it up in the past, he’s dismissed your concerns with a firm response that leaves no room for further discussion.

As you begin gathering the children and preparing them for bed, Friedrich invites your father to join him for a nightcap and a smoke in his office. You exchange a quick look with your mother, her concern clearly reflected in your own.

“We will not be long,” Friedrich promises, bringing your knuckles to his cool lips. “Go, take your mother.”

Getting the children settled turns out to be more difficult than you anticipate, and you find yourself half distracted through most of it, your mind lingering on what might be happening downstairs.  By the time you finally make your way back to the foyer, Friedrich’s office door is still firmly shut. You pause, straining to hear any sounds coming from inside, but all you’re met with is silence.

Your mother shifts beside you, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before clearing her throat.

“How are things since Friedrich’s return?” she inquires. “He seems…much changed.”

The question catches you off guard and for a moment, you're silent. You sense the weight behind her words, the quiet invitation to reveal your own fears, and you hesitate — afraid your worries will spill over into something you’re not ready to share. She already seems heavy with concern, and the last thing you want is to add to that.

"He is still our Friedrich," you reply. "He is merely adjusting after his illness.”

“Of course,” she concedes. She steps closer, her hands covering yours as her worried gaze meets your. “And how are you, my darling girl?”

"I am so happy he returned to us," you tell her with an honest smile. "I was lost without him...so scared, so alone. His absence —" You falter, the grief you thought had faded surging up again. Tears prick your eyes at the thought and you touch your chest, as if to stem the tide of emotions. "I-I could not survive losing him again.”

“You will not,” your mother assures you quickly. She squeezes your hands with a strength that grounds you. You nod, the truth of her words sinking in — Friedrich is here, and he will not leave you again.

She opens her mouth to say more, but the sound of a door creaking open has you both turning. Friedrich emerges first, a cigarette dangling loosely between the fingers that holds a glass of brandy. Smoke curls around him as he steps into the dim hallway, his expression unreadable in the low light. Your father slips past, giving him a wide berth. There’s something deeply off about his demeanor and you can see it in his eyes, a flicker of something uneasy, something wrong that he’s trying to hide.

“I believe we understand one another now,” Friedrich remarks.

“Yes,” your father says, his voice clipped and curt. He doesn't even look at you, his focus firmly on the door as he urges your mother to follow him. “We will bid you both a good night now.”

You take a step forward, but hesitate, confused by the abruptness of their departure. You turn to Friedrich and ask, "Did something happen?"

"It is nothing for you to worry over," he assures you, drawing you into his side. When his lips find yours the kiss is deeper than usual, the bitter edge of the smoke mixing with the warmth of the liquor. 

“Are the children asleep?” he asks once you part.

“Yes.”

“That is good,” he replies, brushing his knuckle over your cheek. His thumb lingers, stroking your skin as he watches you. You stare back at him in return, sensing a subtle shift in his mood. His gaze moves behind you, toward the door.

“Shall I fetch your coat?” you ask, wondering if he needs to take one of his solitary walks.

“You know me so well, my love,” he praises, his expression filled with affection as you gather his coat for him. 

You’ve grown accustomed to these late-night walks, the way he slips out after dusk when the pale glow of the gas lamps casts long shadows on the street. He’s never gone long, and when he comes back to you, he seems more settled. The color and life return to his face, though it fades again almost as quickly as it came. You wonder if it’s the quiet of the night that soothes him, that elusive solitude that's absent with the presence of you and the children. After so long spent in the depths of that ship, returning to a life so full of people and sound must be a struggle.

You’re not sure how long you stand in the foyer after he departs, lost in thought, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock the only sound breaking the silence. Eventually Kerstin appears. She pulls you back to reality with a tentative hand on your shoulder.

“Do you wish to retire for the evening?” she asks. 

“Yes. I suppose I should go,” you remark. 

Kerstin helps you undress in Friedrich’s absence, her quiet presence a small comfort as she tends to the fire in the hearth, stoking it until the flames crackle and cast a soft, yellow glow across the room. While she works your mind drifts to the unsettling events of dinner and your father’s odd behavior. It’s hard to feel settled without Friedrich beside you so you wait, lost in the silence of the room, for his return.  

The floor creaks outside the door and you turn instinctively. Friedrich enters, offering you a brief, fleeting smile. The tension in your chest abates, comforted by his presence. He sheds his clothes, layer by layer, until only his pants and a white shirt remain before climbing into bed beside you.

“Good night, my love,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

Disappointment settles like a stone in your heart when he turns on his side, curling his body protectively around yours and falls still. It has been the same every night since his return. A kiss and nothing more. Even on the evenings that turn passionate, he stops before his touch can dip into what you truly desire. You find yourself wondering what it is you've done wrong, what has changed. During the day, he seems happy, content even, and yet there’s a quiet weight that steals the joy you should feel. Friedrich has returned to you, and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? 

You try to remind yourself of that each time the insecurity surfaces. Tonight it’s harder to remember that, especially when your thoughts return to one of the last conversations you had with Friedrich before he left. You were lying in this very bed, your bodies intertwined, sweat cooling on your skin as you traded lazy kisses. Even now you can recall the warmth of his hands on your skin, the way your bodies had fit together so perfectly. 

“Perhaps when I return, you will be with child,” he had murmured softly against your lips.

The thought made your heart swell in your chest. “A son,” you had breathed, watching as the thought spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with something deeper than desire.

But that dream slipped away before you even knew you lost him. 

You let loose a pained sigh, your hand falling to your stomach to brush the soft fabric of your nightgown. Behind you the bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s hand on your shoulder, firm but gentle, guiding you onto your back as he stares down at you.

“What ails you?” He questions, his face filled with concern.

“It is nothing,” you assure him, watching his expressive brows draw together and then smooth. 

“I—” you begin, faltering before forcing yourself to continue. “You have been so different lately. You do not touch me as you used to and I thought, perhaps, after you returned that you would want to try again for a child. A son.” 

Friedrich pulls back as if you’ve struck him, his lips parting in a sharp, quiet breath. The look of raw pain that crosses his face has you reaching for him, confused and alarmed, but he’s already on his feet, moving away from you with a speed that shocks you. He claws at the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric between bone white fingers.  

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head, as though your words have wounded him somehow, piercing something fragile within him.

“My love, please. What is it?” you ask, reaching for him again. 

He opens his mouth as though to speak, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Without another sound, he turns sharply, his movements jerky as he crosses the room. 

Your voice is a broken plea as you call his name, but he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t acknowledge you. His posture is rigid, his back tense, but there's a tremor in the hand that settles on the door. For a brief moment you think he might return to you until he steps through the door, closing it behind him. You remain frozen, your mind reeling in confusion at the fast turn of events. 

The urge to follow him is so strong that you nearly rise from the bed, your body already halfway to the floor before you force yourself to stay. Fights were a rare occurrence in your marriage but if you’ve upset Friedrich it would be wise to give him space. So you stay, lost in your thoughts until your eyelids grow heavy and the constant buzzing of your mind slows to a dull hum. The night slips away unnoticed, the world around you fading as you drift into a fitful slumber.

When you wake again, anxious and adrift, you find Friedrich has returned. You almost don’t see him at first. His figure is barely visible, sitting in the shadowed chair before the fireplace where only embers remain, their warmth lost long ago. 

"I shall never have a son," he says hoarsely, a quiet, unsettling stillness about him. “Nor a daughter."

Your legs slip from the bed, your bare feet barely touching the cold floor when he speaks again. 

“Come no closer,” he growls. The strength behind his words rattles your chest, echoing in your mind, pinning you in place.

“You are frightening me, Friedrich,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have not even begun to frighten you, my love," he says softly, the sorrow in his tone settling like a shadow over you. “I thought if I kept pretending,” he begins as if speaking to himself, “things could be like they were before. That you could have me back as I was.”

Even though you don’t understand his words, they stir a quiet unease in you. You want to reach out to him, but the way he holds himself keeps you still.

“But you’re here now. With us,” you remind him softly. “Just as it should be.”

Friedrich doesn't respond, and the silence stretches out, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wait, watching him, wondering if he’s even heard you. 

Then, finally, he speaks. 

"I died. Though not in the way you imagined,” he begins, his words low and strained. “When Ellen and I found Thomas...it was too late. For all of us.” His eyes flutter, and for the first time since he began speaking, he looks away from you. “When I woke, I was not the same.”

You wait for him to continue, to explain but he only stares at the floor with an empty expression. “You are still my Friedrich,” you assure him, taking a tentative step forward.

His eyes snap back to you, dark and unblinking and you see a rawness to him, a hunger in his gaze, as if something inside him is clawing to get free. Something that would consume him if he let it. He rises from the chair and the shadows cast by the faint light remaining in the room stretch behind him, making him seem almost monstrous. Slowly, hypnotically, he moves towards the bed, his steps soundless. 

“Ellen was not mad. What haunted her was real,” he says. “And now, he has made me like him.”

The memory of Ellen’s terror surges to the forefront of your mind. Her frantic muttering, the words tumbling out in a panic about the demon that pursued her. You think of Professor von Franz’s wild claims she was haunted by a vampyre. Those ridiculous accusations had been the catalyst that finally pushed Friedrich to agree to what Ellen had desperately begged him to do — return her to Thomas.

You shake your head to deny the absurdity of your husband’s confession. But deep down, a part of you already knows the truth. It’s been there all along, quietly accumulating like a slow, inevitable tide with each subtle shift and unspoken change you noticed and ignored since his return. There is a fundamental, irrevocable rupture in the essence of your husband, a hunger that has transformed him into something unrecognizable. 

A vampyre. 

The word lingers in your mind, its weight sinking deeper with each passing moment. You think of your children, your eyes instinctively drifting to the wall that separates your room from theirs, a barrier that suddenly feels so thin and fragile. Your pulse quickens, and the air grows heavier.

Friedrich seems to sense your thoughts before you can voice them.

"I could never harm them," he says so steadily and sincerely that it leaves no room for doubt.  

You stiffen when his fingertips brush over your jaw, the coldness so stark that you don’t understand how you never noticed it before. You want to retreat from his touch but you feel rooted to the floor, some force beyond your control anchoring you in place.

"It was always you I could not resist," he admits, his words thick with desire.

As his fingers trail down the side of your neck, the sensation sharpens a memory deep within you. Fragments of your dreams begin to slip into focus, flooding back with startling clarity, almost overwhelming in their intensity. The flash of sharp teeth beneath his mustache, the scent of blood in the air. The mix of pain and pleasure. 

"They were not dreams," you whisper.

“No,” he replies, his hand resting against the side of your throat, seeking out the ache that has never quite faded. 

His confession frightens you, your mind struggling to reconcile the man you love with the creature standing before you. Yet even as you turn from him, overwhelmed with terror, there’s another part of you — one that loves him so completely, so unconditionally — that pulls you back toward him. The longer his fingers linger at your throat, the harder it becomes to tell where love ends and fear begins.

"You must know, I never intended to remain," he admits. "I only wanted to see you...and the children, just once more. To smell their hair and kiss their sweet faces." His gaze falters, a deep sorrow flickering in the depths of his eyes. "They looked so innocent, so pure...but I knew they would be well. They had you."

He moves closer, his chest hovering just inches from yours, a space that would have been filled with breath if he were still capable of it. But instead, he remains unnervingly still.

"Then I found you here," he continues, his words soft and haunting, "in this bed, so lost in grief. You were dreaming, and you whispered my name. You called for me, and in that moment...I could not leave you. I could not bring myself to walk away." 

Tears shimmer in his eyes, his emotions raw and vulnerable. You never expected to see your own grief mirrored in his face. The sight twists like a knife through your chest, an unbearable ache.

“That is my greatest sin, my love,” he whispers, his voice breaking with the weight of his confession. "That I could not let you go.”

The desire to comfort him and ease his grief compels you to act, but you find yourself frozen — locked inside your body, unable to move, to speak, to do anything more than listen as he continues. 

“I thought I would be content to simply watch, but then your father…” His words twist, and that monstrous intent you had glimpsed before surges between you, fierce and ravenous, filling the space between you. “He intended to barter you off to those vile men. I could not — would not — let that happen.”

Your stomach heaves at the implications of his words. You want him to stop speaking, to unburden you of this awful knowledge but he presses forward, relentlessly even as the first of your tears begin to fall. 

“Do not weep for those loathsome creatures, my love,” he says, his gaze hardening. “They would have hurt you. Hurt our children.”

You shake your head as if that very motion might change the truth of his words. “You killed them,” you whisper, horrified. 

“Yes.” 

There is no shame in his voice, no regret in the familiar blue eyes that meet yours — only the overwhelming weight of his devotion, so thick it feels like it could crush you. You take a half step back, the solid wood of the bedpost halting your retreat. Friedrich moves forward, closing the distance between you with unsettling ease, trapping you with his body. Fear tightens in your stomach, squeezing the breath from your lungs. 

“It was but a simple thing to take their lives,” he whispers, his hands framing your hips. 

A shiver runs through him as he presses his cheek to yours. His touch is so familiar that your body reacts before your mind, instinctively leaning into him even as fear urges you to pull away. His lips trail from your cheek to somewhere lower and you flinch, gasping in short, panicked breaths. You can feel the wild flutter of your pulse that he seeks out. 

“Will you take my life too?” The question escapes before you can stop it, fear clinging to every syllable.

Friedrich recoils from you, the weight of his presence receding, and you inhale shakily, as if the space between you can finally fill with air again. His posture shifts, and the sharpness in his expression softens. You stare at him, and for a fleeting moment, he feels familiar again — your Friedrich once more. 

“No,” he replies anguished, the mere idea of what you’ve asked unfathomable to him. “You are my wife,” he says, as if that alone is all the answer you need.  

In the silence that follows he studies your face, searching for something — some sign that you know not how to give him. 

"I never meant for it to be like this,” he whispers. He takes a small step back, his gaze lowering, filled with a deep, agonizing regret. "I should have let you go.” His hands clench and unclench at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hesitates, and then, almost too quietly, as if the admission is one he can hardly bear, he murmurs, “I must leave.”  

When he looks up again his expression is devoid of any emotion. “I shall ensure your well-being, and see to it the children are provided for.” He speaks as though he is very far away, his tone is calm, distant. “You will not need to remarry for the sake of security."

The thought of losing him again wrenches something from deep inside you. For all the darkness in him, for the monstrous thing that lives beneath his skin, you realize that the idea of life without him is a void you could not survive again. You can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the sudden, crushing terror. 

“No,” you sob, the mix of fear, desire, and love so tightly wound together that you can no longer distinguish one from the other. You move towards him, your steps unsteady, as though the very ground beneath you is crumbling. “You cannot leave me. Not again.”

“Do not," he pleads, stepping back just out of reach, his voice thick with desperation. "I have not the resolve to deny you."

"You are my husband," you remind him, tearfully. "You made a vow to me."

"Till death," he answers, his grip tightening around your hands, halting your frantic reach for him. "But I no longer live."

“I care not,” you tell him, the weight of your love for him, your need to have him here with you the only thing that matters. The thought of losing him again is unbearable. It twists you with desperation, a wild, consuming need, and in this moment of painful clarity, you finally understand why he stayed, why he endured the torment of his own nature – all for you and your daughters. 

“We can make a new vow,” you urge desperately, pushing aside the turmoil within. You should be repulsed by what he's become. But something deeper pulls at you, a love so fierce and unyielding it overrides every ounce of logic. You love him too much to let go.

Friedrich watches you then, his gaze full of hunger and pain, and you know that he’s fighting himself, fighting his love for you. The very same battle raging within you.

“You do not know me any longer,” he replies. "I know you,” you insist. “You are the man who has tended to our daughters with such devotion since his return. His love for them is as steadfast as the love he bears for me. A man who has always upheld his marriage vow, to protect and cherish me.”

He shakes his head but it is a halfhearted denial. 

“I love you, Friedrich,” you whisper. “Please.”

The words have hardly left you when his lips are on yours, his hands grasping desperately for you. He pushes you towards the bed, his body enveloping yours when he presses you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. The relief you feel is a heavy, wondrous thing and you part your lips, allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. 

A whimper slips from you when he pulls away, but he’s quick to quiet you. He grips your nightgown with both hands and wrenches it apart to bare your body to his heated gaze. He kisses each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling it until it grows hard and achy before paying the same attention to the other. 

His mouth trails lower, down your soft stomach, tenderly kissing each line and mark left from carrying his children. When he reaches the soft tufts of hair that hide one of his favorite parts of you he inhales deeply. He uses two fingers to spread you open, his tongue seeking out the delicate bundle of nerves. Your eyes close and you clutch a fistful of his curly hair, pulling it urgently, needing him even closer.

Friedrich knows your body intimately and as he worships between your thighs your voice grows louder, a hunger stirring low in your belly. Your hips rise and fall, meeting his mouth, crying in delight when he gently works a finger inside. 

“I shall never grow tired of the taste of you…your warmth,” he praises, slipping a second finger beside the first. 

He curls them, moving like a relentless wave upon the shore, steady and rhythmic. When his thumb circles your bud with tender attention you grasp the bedsheets and groan. You feel so close, every muscle in your body pulled tight in anticipation of release. The bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s lips brush down your inner thigh as his fingers continue their steady work. 

“Come for me,” he commands, an unsettling current under his words that your body can’t help but obey. 

You peak with his name on your lips, louder and more wanton than you’ve ever been. As your orgasm washes through you, a faint pulse of pain threads beneath the euphoria, blending with the sensation in a tangled, confusing mix. You realize then Friedrich’s feeding from you, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of your inner thigh to draw more than pleasure from you. His fingers still work within you and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he drinks until your vision grows hazy and unfocused.

When you open your eyes again he’s shed his clothes, the coolness of his naked flesh sending a shiver through you. The two of you share a sweet, lingering kiss and he pulls back, staring down at you. Your eyes are drawn to the wound on his chest, a jagged mark left by the creature. Tentatively, you raise your hand, watching his face as you reach for it. He doesn’t stop you, but his chest rises and falls sharply, a long-forgotten reflex in anticipation of your touch. 

You brush your fingers over his torn skin and he shudders when your lips follow, offering him acceptance and benediction the only way you know how. He whispers your name and your thighs part in welcome. There’s no pain as he slips inside, just that familiar ache you’ve been craving. You gaze up at him in the dim light, watching his blue eyes shimmer with a flash of silver that fades and returns with each roll of his hips. 

His eyes close when you wrap a leg around his hip, urging him to reach deeper inside you. After all this time, you need more from him, all the passion and desire he’s trembling with the effort to hold back. Your heart has made its choice, binding itself to him in a way that transcends fear, desire, and everything else and you want him to know that.  

“It is okay, my love,” you urge, baring your throat to him. 

Your words cause his pace to falter and he stares at you with a deep crease in his brow. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. 

“I want you. All of you,” you assure him. 

Friedrich’s lips part, curling up to reveal teeth sharper than you remember. In a blink he lunges forward, his chest pressing into yours as his mouth seals over the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. Your skin gives way under his teeth, and a deep growl resonates in his throat. His hips drive into you hard enough for the bed to creak dangerously and you wrap your arms around him, holding on until your limbs become too heavy.

There’s no fear in this moment, only immense, indescribable pleasure. You smile at him as he pulls away, the coolness of his breath still lingering on your skin. His tongue flicks over a stray drop of your blood at the corner of his mouth, the motion slow and deliberate, almost reverent, as though savoring every bit of you. The sight sends an unexpected jolt of desire through you, as intoxicating as it is unsettling.

You moan beneath him, digging your nails into his biceps when he pulls your knees to your chest. It hurts in the best way possible and you share a messy, coppery kiss as he groans into your mouth, the sounds of his desperate desire enough to herald your own end. Every part of your body hums with pleasure, except for the sharp sting in your neck. 

You touch the torn skin gingerly, the sluggish flow of your blood surely staining the sheets beneath you. Friedrich brings your fingers to his lips, cleaning them with his tongue. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth, puncturing the skin. Dark red blood wells up from the wound, and you watch breathlessly as he traces the bite mark on your throat. Your skin tingles and you look questioningly at him.

“There will be no mark,” he assures you.

Cautiously you touch your throat, finding only smooth, unblemished skin. You look up at him in amazement.

“I do not deserve such a look,” he says. “I am a monster.”

“You are my Friedrich,” you reply, echoing the words you spoke earlier, your hands gently cradling his face.

Your thumbs stroke his skin, taking in the familiar way his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, his gaze filled with adoration. He rests his forehead against yours, and you smile wider than before, the joy you feel almost too much to bear.

Even now, with everything that has come to light, your love for him remains unshaken. He is woven into the very fabric of your soul, as much a part of you as the blood that courses through your veins. No matter what comes next, your love for Friedrich will endure. The bond between you is eternal, transcending time and even the boundaries of life itself. 

♡

Thank you all so much for reading this series! I had a bit of a tough time with the ending, so I really hope you enjoyed it. Your thoughts and feedback mean everything to me, so feel free to leave a comment, reblog, or send an ask if you’d like!

[esamastation]

wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

-

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

-

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

-

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

-

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

-

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

[hwajin]

☆°. — ᴋɪss ᴇs

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader

𝐰𝐜: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (afab receiving), very soft, lots of tension

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: something sweet for valentines day!! it's a bit rushed, hope you enjoy it nontheless <33

You lay sprawled across the bed, a book in hand. You had no blanket on you, yet you felt warm, and a heavy weight was pressing you down; Hyunjin was snoring softly against the sensitive crook of your neck, working far better than any weighted blanket you could acquire. His arms, lanky and long, were snaked around you, tightly, holding you so close that you almost didn’t believe that he was sleeping, that he was only pretending so you wouldn’t shoo him off. Not that you ever would, in the first place; you enjoyed being crushed beneath his weight far too much to ever deny his affection and love.

One hand of yours was tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp — you figured it was the very thing which has put him into his semi-deep slumber in the first place, so you only stopped it when necessary, after finishing a page and turning to the next one. Hyunjin's soft grunts of protest never went unnoticed; you huffed in amusement every time your fingers untangled from his messy locks and he sighed out in tired disagreement, before sounding entirely content again the moment your hands found themselves deep in his locks again. It was endearing. You thought you could find eternal happiness right then, right there.

It must have been several minutes, and you were twenty-something pages further in your book when the man stirred, suddenly, without a reason — you were but a statue beneath his body, not moving even an inch to not disturb, to not wake. Yet he stirred, moved around atop your body; his face buried further into your neck, tickling you, his breath hot and intoxicating, burning on your skin. He hummed, arms tightening around you - if possible - and he looked up at you. He was awake, though he didn't look it. His hair was an adorable mess, falling over his eyes and standing to all directions, his eyes barely open and puffy, only a little, and his left cheek wore the imprint of your shirt he had laid on. Endearing. You thought you could find eternal beauty if you as much as looked at him. Even minutes after waking up.

You giggled, softly, your hand still in his hair, still massaging.

"Hi."

He huffed out amusement at that, closing his eyes to bask in your antics at his hair, leaning into your hand, fully at peace. He hummed again, in satisfaction now, in pleasure, and it sent a shock of electricity throughout every fibre of your body. He must have noticed, must have sensed you tensing up, and he smiled - not in malice, simply acknowledging. A shiver ran down your spine then.

"You're still reading, huh?"

Hyunjin's voice sounded quietly through the room, almost melodic, harmonizing with the birdsong outside. It didn't disturb the silence, only added to the atmosphere, leisure, lazy, loving. You nodded at his question, continued massaging the skin in his nape, hummed, then, affirmatively. There was a lot of humming in the room, sighs and huffs instead of words, for words seemed, almost, too heavy; and you understood each other without.

Hyunjin's face buried into your neck again - though not without a plan this time, not to merely rest. He kissed the skin there, softly, patient. Slow. As though dragging out his movements would make the moment last forever. He kissed, open-mouthed kisses, wet kisses, loud kisses, stingy kisses; he couldn't help but bite down on you every other moment, not a lot, enough only to show purest affection, most primal desire.

Your skin was sensitive. You were shivering in his hold, you were shivering at the feeling of the warmth his breath glazed over your neck. He was holding you close, his hands exploring the expanse of your back; though barely noticeable. He was barely even moving his hands, so slow you weren't sure he was at all, until you noticed them laying elsewhere, suddenly - close to your neck, then the small of your back, then wrapping around your shoulders from behind. Always pulling you closer. Always keeping you near, as much as physically possible. You moaned out quietly, softly, barely even audible, but it dizzied him, and Hyunjin bit down against the back of your ear with more fervour than before. You mewled, and you felt him smile against your skin.

When he spoke his next words, his voice was muffled, absorbed almost entirely by your body.

"Read for me. Out loud… please."

You chuckled, not less because the words against your skin sent tickles down the entirety of your body. Hyunjin, despite his wish, stayed buried in your neck; he was nibbling at the lobe of your ear now, kissing there a second after, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat. He wasn't making a move to separate from you - you tried shoving him off, giggling softly in the process.

"You need to let me... actually read, then"

Your voice was quiet, amused, and followed momentarily by a sigh of pleasure. Hyunjin licked at the goosebumps on your neck, right where it connected to the shoulder; your favourite spot, the most sensitive one. He hummed out in disagreement, didn't as much as raise his head to answer you.

"Just read. While I...", he traced off, kissed your shoulder, touched your waist, squeezed your hips; he looked up at you with puppy eyes, and you nearly lost it all, "...do this..." More kisses to your body; seemingly, he wanted to cover every possible inch of you in traces of his love. If to mark you his, or to remind himself of having you, you weren't sure, but you loved it all the same.

So you read. With his lips on your body, distracting you embarrassingly from the words you tried to make sense of. They didn't quite, and after having read an entire page you lost sight of the plot, entirely. What you never lost sight of, never lost feeling about was Hyunjin's body on your own, his melting into yours. He was consistent, determined, almost. It was pathetic how often your voice trembled and shook when his lips met your body anew; you ought to be used to it already, now that his kisses had reached the expanse of your chest, your collarbones, now that he nibbled right below your shoulders - yet you weren't. You hissed every time his mouth swallowed you whole, every time his wet lips came in contact with an additional inch of your body. You would never get used to it, would never grow tired of him.

You read, and he kissed. Kissed your body away, not leaving a spot of yours undoted. And his hands were sinful. They were wandering, exploring your body while you tried not to lose hold of the book with your own trembling fingers. You tried to keep your composure, tried to be coy when Hyunjin's nimble, cold fingers, far too long for his own good, far too sensual, unclipped the first button of your sleepwear. You stopped reading when he opened the next one - though the man merely looked at you from below his lashes, eyes dark and blown out, urging you on to continue while another kiss met your body. You blinked, once, twice, five times, watching him cover your chest in kisses and love-bites, in spit and hushed confessions. You watched him open another button - at that point your chest lay entirely in the nude, your lack of underwear always delighting the man, and the little bit of stomach Hyunjin had exposed was covered momentarily in his mouth. You watched him, long forgotten the literature in your hands; and then he stopped. Suddenly stopped sucking on your skin, licking and biting on it, easing it with kisses instantly. He stopped moving his hands along your body, too - he looked up at you, expectantly, waiting. You watched him, and he only reciprocated your gaze.

"Read."

Not a command, yet his voice was but a whisper, and it sent thousand shivers to your core. They ran all across your body, the shivers, painting you in goose flesh before they collected right between your legs, right where the man’s body was laying, right where you needed him, right where he was miles away from, seemingly. He wouldn't give in too easily. You knew him - he would drag it out, he would wait on you to continue reading, which, stupidly, you were oh so unable to do, with him all around you, and he wouldn't give you what you craved for before he'd complete his travel on your body, before his lips had tasted every inch of you excessively.

So you continued reading. Shakily, your voice trembling, though you couldn't be embarrassed by it, not when seconds later you felt Hyunjin's lips on your skin again, seemingly satisfied. He had reached your stomach, left wet patches where his mouth met, left love-bites. Left smirks, too; you could feel his amusement on your body whenever your breath hitched in your throat, whenever you restarted a sentence because your voice had trailed off to sighs of frustration. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed that you enjoyed it.

It must have been ages until he had opened all buttons on the flimsy pyjama top you were wearing. You were squirming by then, impatient, intoxicated, needing. Hyunjin lay between your thighs, his face now levelled with your lower tummy, with your core. His arms were snaked around your thighs, holding you close - so close you thought he was scared that you'd slip away if he let go for only a second, but you didn't mind it. You felt his hot breath on your skin, his hotter mouth on the plush of your stomach, the cold breeze against your hardening nipples. Your senses overwhelmed, and Hyunjin wasn't making it easy on you, either; he continued kissing, continued licking, never stopped biting at your body, doting on all his favourite parts, caressing all your favourite spots. He knew you inside and out, he knew the sensitivity of your inner thighs, he knew you enjoyed feeling his breath fawn over it before he gave it a kiss - so he did just that, and he smiled to himself when you mewled out his name. You couldn't keep reading. It was impossible for you to.

"Hyun..."

Your voice was quiet, as though shy; it was needy, too, and if Hyunjin wasn't so focused on basking in your pleasure, he'd blow right then and there. He'd lose his mind over the way your thighs tensed with every kiss he planted there, how your body squirmed when he neared your core, only to pull away again and lick and kiss near your knees. He almost whimpered out in bashful satisfaction at the way you stopped reading, entirely, to call out his name, to let your hands search for his hair, to pull on it slightly when you found it moments later - he lost himself in everything you were, in everything he loved about you.

Though he could keep his composure, just enough. Seemingly mirically, because his body was reacting to your own like flames, igniting one another and impossible to put out. He was as hot as you felt, as intoxicated, just as needing.

"You gotta keep reading, babe."

Another kiss to your inner thighs, an open-mouthed one, a wet one. He was determined to drive you insane.

You whimpered, huffed out in what sounded like amusement. Hyunjin looked up at you, his mouth never breaking contact with your skin. He watched your closed eyes, the way you relished in the feeling of him, the way you were asking for more, silently, wordlessly. The way your body was pleading, the way he could read it without you saying as much as a word about it. He continued kissing, waiting for an answer. He moved slow, giving attention to every inch of your body before he even thought of moving on.

"Feels so good, though."

He trembled at your words. He shivered at the shake of your voice, at the sigh that followed it. He wanted you, he needed you, always. He would never grow sick of it. He would never grow sick of you. You lay there before him, and you wanted him. You lay there so vulnerable for him, and only him. You lay there, and were so honest about your pleasure, pleasure only he could give you; Hyunjin would never grow tired of the way you loved him.

Though, mirically, he continued keeping his composure. Witchcraft, surely, because you were irresistible, having pulled him in entirely, long ago.

"I know... wanna hear you read to me, though."

Your sigh of frustration was music to his ears. The scent of your clothed core, your scent, the feeling of the plush of your thighs, your bare chest, your tortured expression, your fingers in the depth of his hair - it was his death sentence.

"C'mon."

So you continued reading. Because you knew him enough to know he was patient - though, barely, just enough - to not give into you too fast, only to relish in you more. You continued reading, and every further word of yours made him move closer to your core. Shaky words, trembling words, though you made it through one sentence, then through another. And Hyunjin's mouth was closer, and closer, and closer to where you needed him so very urgently.

It must have been ten sentences when his fingers fanned over your waist, the part where your underwear cut into your flesh. He toyed with the elastic band, let it wrap around his fingers, only teased to take it off though never did. Not for another minute, not for another two. He stopped entirely when you stopped reading; only when you picked it up again he continued his ministrations. After a moment or two, Hyunjin pulled down your underwear, though only enough to expose a bit of your pubic bone. You hissed, voice fading almost into nothingness, though you kept reading until a kiss of his met your skin. You hissed again, then, and you were ready to kill him for the past thirty minutes of teasing, and doting, and malice, and loving. You needed him, and you weren’t sure how much longer your patience could hold out.

Hyunjin kissed your thighs. He didn’t leave your core forgotten, though – his mouth sucked onto the plushest part of your inner leg, right below your sex, and his fingers tangled into the waistband of your white, lacen panties, his favourite pair, to take them off you, slowly. If you hadn’t been quick enough, or attentive enough, or far too hyperaware of every of his movement, you wouldn’t have as much as noticed how you, excruciating moments later, lay before him in the nude, almost entirely – only your pyjama top adorning you, though it was barely enough to leave anything to the imagination. And Hyunjin yet took his time, yet didn’t give into you – you weren’t sure how he did it. You were exposed, you were vulnerable; though he acted like you weren’t, for a while longer. His lips painted most frustrating picture on your thighs, travelling to the hollow of your knees – slowly, relishing in your squirming, basking in the way your skin felt against his, as you relished in the way his hands accompanied his lips’ journey along your heated body. You were hot, very much so; Hyunjin ignited you with every touch, with every kiss, with every lick of his sinful tongue – he ignited you, even, with a gaze, eyes so lewd and speaking you didn’t know what was harder; looking straight into them or keeping track of your reading.

And it was when you lost your patience altogether, entirely, finally, that he did, too. It was a mewl, barely a whisper, even; you were surprised Hyunjin heard the weak call of his name in the first place, the plead in your voice, the longing. And it wasn’t a second after that his lips, the ones that had been tracing your body for seeming hours, for and eternity, that had covered you in spit and love and longing and passion, finally connected with your wetness. You were dripping, practically, his tireless teasing having egged you on far more than you were brave to admit. You felt Hyunjin kiss against your clit, lick it right after only to elicit a moan from you – it was embarrassing, how fast you were reacting to him and his body, how very little your composure held; but then again, you were hypersensitive. Had been, ever since he’d opened that first button, ever since a first kiss had fluttered over your body in a manner so loving it pulled at your heart.

Hyunjin’s hands were wrapped around you again, your own – book long forgotten and discarded somewhere next to you – tangled tightly in his hair. With every pull he moaned, groaned deeply into your pussy, and with every of his sound your body jolted, and vibrations set off in the entirety of your body. And he noticed, too, for he never made attempts to quiet down.

The sounds of your pleasure echoed through the room in harmony. The melodies of your names created a symphony, topped off with the lewd noise of his lips against your sex. He was making out with it, was sucking on your clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it again. He was breathing you in, he was inhaling you entirely; as though wanting to make you his, wanting to annihilate your body with his own, to make one out of two, to melt together for eternity, as though a candle standing too close to the other. And you lost yourself at his passion. You were squirming, screaming, almost, his name, pleads, his name again. You weren’t sure you knew any other words that moment, your own name, even; he was everything you thought of, his tongue now lying flat against your slit and licking in thick stripes the only thing your mind was occupied with. All attempts of keeping your composure were long forgotten; you couldn’t possibly if he made you feel this way, when shocks of fire and electricity shot through your body with every squeeze his hands granted your thighs, and you didn’t want to, in the first place. You didn’t want to keep your composure. You didn’t want to try and not lose yourself in him; because you knew him enough to know he wanted you entirely, in honesty. And you knew him enough to know he lost himself within you all the same.

It wasn’t until two of his fingers teased your entrance, while his tongue flicked across your clit that your body started trembling. As though it was lain in ice suddenly, shaking against your lover who wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath. He inserted two digits into your warmth, smiled against your clit at the way you clenched around him momentarily. A soul-ripping whine left your throat then, and your fingers dug into the man’s scalp – it was bound to hurt, though he liked it. He would never not.

And Hyunjin yet moved slow. He didn’t move his fingers, even, for several moments after filling you with them; he kept them still, felt you wiggling around in search of friction. Only after you cried out his name, in obvious frustration, which, anew, made him smile against your sex, his hand started moving. Sensually, patiently, pumping in, then out, then in, then out again – before he curled his long, cold fingers up, and caressed that gooey spot within you. It was too easy, too thoughtless for him. A second nature, almost, the way he knew your body. Almost better than his own.

And you cried out again. You felt Hyunjin pump against your spot, over and over and over until your body felt in flames entirely, until you ignited him with them, until his own desire took over his body, made him feral. He fastened his pace now, sucked a little harsher, cursed a little louder, kissed a little harder. Against your clit, against your heat, against your very vulnerability, the one only he had access to. The one you only ever gifted him – and then you came, when his free hand pulled you closer to his body, tightly around your thigh and groping at your flesh, when the sensitivity tip-toed on the verge of being too much. You came in waves, stormy and urgent, entirely overwhelming. Your body shook, your voice was loud, your eyes were shut so close you saw stars against the darkness; and Hyunjin held you through it. Held you close, held you near to him, as though you’d disappear if he didn’t. As though he almost succeeded in merging your body with his own, in connecting your very souls to one.

And maybe he did. Maybe your body was his own, and maybe his was yours. And maybe your souls had been one and the same the very moment he had first longed for you, had first loved you; had first let his lips dance upon your skin, had first kissed you.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

[bookwormjust]

Where Love Grows : Bonds in Bloom Under the Spring Sun

(Azriel x mate reader) + blossoming family

The gardens of the River House are alive with the first whispers of spring. The air is still cool, but the sunlight is warm enough to beckon you, Nesta, and Feyre outside. Cushions and blankets are scattered on the lawn, but while Nesta and Feyre sit neatly on them, basking in the sunlight, you’ve sprawled yourself directly on the grass, arms outstretched as if to soak up every ounce of warmth and life the season offers.

Nesta raises an eyebrow at you from her place on the cushions. “You do realize you’re lying in the dirt, right?” she asks, her voice dry but not unkind. You grin lazily, tilting your head to look at her. “It’s worth it. Grass is softer than you think.” Feyre chuckles, her hand resting protectively on her barely-there baby bump. “Just wait until the ants find you.” You laugh, unbothered. “Let them come. I’ll make friends.” The three of you fall into easy conversation, voices light as you discuss everything and nothing—Nesta’s latest training session, Feyre’s plans for the nursery, and the way the world feels like it’s waking up after winter’s long slumber. Every now and then, Feyre’s hand drifts to her stomach, and you and Nesta exchange a small smile, knowing how much this baby already means to her.

Unbeknownst to you, the males—Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel—stand on the balcony of the River House, watching their mates with quiet contentment. “They look happy,” Cassian says, his deep voice filled with fondness as his eyes linger on Nesta, who’s leaning back with her eyes closed, the sunlight softening her sharp features. “They are,” Rhysand replies, his gaze fixed on Feyre as a small smile tugs at his lips. There’s a protective edge to his expression, but mostly, it’s filled with love. “It’s good to see her like this.” Azriel, standing slightly apart from the other two, has his eyes locked on you. You, with your hair splayed out on the grass, a streak of dirt on your cheek, and the carefree laughter spilling from your lips as you tease Feyre. His shadows swirl faintly around him, but they’re calmer than usual, reflecting his own sense of peace. “She doesn’t even care about the dirt,” Azriel murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice. Cassian chuckles, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “She’s wild, that one. Perfect for you.” Azriel’s lips twitch into a small smile as he continues to watch you. “She’s perfect, period.” From the balcony, Rhysand glances between the three of you and then turns to his brothers, his tone light but meaningful. “We’re lucky, you know. None of this was guaranteed—not the bond, not the happiness. But look at them. They’re ours.”

“And we’re theirs,” Cassian adds with a grin. Azriel doesn’t say anything, but his wings shift slightly, a subtle sign of agreement. His gaze never leaves you, even as you roll over onto your stomach, laughing at something Feyre says. He knows you’re as much his home as he is yours, and seeing you here, carefree and happy, fills him with a sense of purpose he hadn’t realized he’d been missing for centuries. The three of you in the garden, and the three of them on the balcony—two halves of a family, not bound by blood but by love, trust, and a connection that feels as eternal as the stars themselves.

[jessamine-rose]

jess

what if

capitano does end up resurrected

......... but when he looks down, he sees damsel's corpse sitting across his lap, hugging him close with a serene smile, just like their usual cuddle times.

(except you are so, so cold instead of pleasantly warm.)

(your body is somehow still intact, perserved in ice. it seems like love seeps to all of his being, so much so that even his powers loves you despite his lack of conscious control.)

*insert evil raccoon laugh*

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first <3

..…Rin?? What the hell did I just read?? (*⁰▿⁰*)

Rin, you can’t just enter my house and shoot me with CapiDamsel angst RIN THIS IS PURE EVIL WAS DAMSEL’S GRIEF NOT ENOUGH—

I recommend reading this fic first, as it details Damsel’s reaction to Capitano’s “death.” This is only an alternate timeline in the Herbarium series, and y’all can blame Rin for coming up with a bad ending that’s even sadder (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

Tw:: YANDERE, Stockholm Syndrome

Note: Fem reader who is smaller and weaker than Capitano, angst, hurt/ no comfort

♡ 0.7k words under the cut ♡

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is your smile.

That should have been the happy ending to your fairytale. But your eyes are closed and your soul is quiet.

That cannot be.

This isn’t how your story is supposed to end. His plan was for you to accept his death, to thrive in the peaceful world he left behind for you. Or, on the small chance that he was resurrected, he would have come home to you and sought your forgiveness.

But instead, you are in his arms. Your body is cold. The smile on your face looks peaceful at a glance, but a closer look reveals the etchings of grief. And despite his attempts to wake you, your soul remains in a state of slumber.

It is Yohualtecuhtin who tells him about your fate, beginning with your first visit to the Throne of the Primal Fire. The many visits that followed. The irreparable damage done to your psyche. The day you fell asleep on his lap and simply didn’t wake up, only for your body to be preserved by his powers. Even in slumber, his love had kept you within his grasp.

Your soul is still there. But it refuses to wake up.

The Fatui are overjoyed by the Captain’s return, but still sorrowful over your “passing.” Others fearfully beg for his forgiveness, citing their unsuccessful attempts to console and resurrect you.

None are punished. He knows that the fault lies in him.

✿ ⚘

After failing to find a cure for you in Natlan, Capitano brings you back to Snezhnaya.

The flowers are in full bloom, welcoming you home. Neither of you pay attention to them.

Instead, Capitano wastes no time in returning to his estate. He is still carrying you as he walks through the front door, up the stairs, into your shared bedroom.

…On the bed, you resemble the sleeping beauties from your storybooks. Only, you are not one to be awoken with true love’s kiss. That trope exists only in fiction, after all.

Or perhaps it is because his love, cruel as it is, is unworthy of such miracles.

✿ ⚘

During the Captain’s slumber, you offered many flowers to him.

He found them in the pocket of his coat, close to his heart. Even after receiving the news of his “death,” you continued to preserve flowers for him.

As such, it is only right that he returns the favor. Each day, flowers are gathered from his estate and slipped into your clasped hands. Those that have wilted are routinely swapped out.

Capitano also speaks to you. He has no memory of your one-sided conversations; but if there is a chance that you can hear him, then it is worth the hours spent by your bedside. He reads you stories, too, from your favorite books to Snezhnayan titles to fairytales steeped in false hope.

If only he could hear your voice again.

Every night, he checks your soul. He doesn’t know why it remains in your body. Was it your grief that kept you rooted to the world of the living? Or was it his powers that selfishly deprived you of eternal rest in the Night Kingdom?

✿ ⚘

A flower, once uprooted, can never return to the soil. The same can be said for a flower that has been preserved, reduced to a ghost of its former self.

Still, the Captain refuses to give up hope. He searches for solutions, consults with scholars, and prepares for his new journey.

It only took him five hundred years to grant salvation to his soldiers. For his beloved flower, he would devote a millennium—or even longer—to bring you back.

If all else fails, he will wait for you. Perhaps the fairytales were wrong and you will awaken from your slumber on your own terms. Either way, just as you have done for him, he will remain by your side until the day you bless him with your gaze once more.

…And should a day come that his hope burns out, that is when he will take your soul. At least then, you will be the sole occupant of his heart.

♡

Happy Ending coming someday!! ヽ(；▽；)ノ

……And then Damsel woke up and they lived happily ever after hahahaha /deranged. 

Notice how this is open-ended because 1) I can’t bear to write more CapiDamsel angst and 2) It’s more painful for Capitano to cling to hope and to realize his darling’s soul is deprived of death bc of him. I also want to say curse you thank you to Rin for this idea ₍ᵔ•ᴗ•ᵔ₎

Similar to what I said in my previous fic, this story is NOT part of the “main” timeline of the Herbarium series, as I’d like to give the couple a happy ending. Until then, I hope y’all cried enjoyed this sadder conclusion to their story~

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @leftdestiny-posts @harmonysanreads @brynn-lear @naraven @mochinon-yah @pranabefall @euniveve @limeiyuan @stickyspeckledlight @teabutmakeitazure @dawn-sky-collective @poetics-of-fuubutsu @shellsea-rennie @icelleaesteria @eats-ants

[desireangel]

Honey & Venom | Chapter 1

Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: In exchange for an escape from his death, the curse upon Aemond had seemed an easy price to pay for an eternal life of strength and power. But when the time comes for his debt to be collected and a mysterious illness sends you to the doorstep of the reclusive and fearsome Lord of Harrenhal's century-old castle, Aemond is faced with the other half of his soul and the agonising realisation that perhaps the cost of his salvation will also become his downfall.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: MDNI - Strictly 18+ ONLY. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Blood, sex and horror. Gore. Dub-con elements. Very similar to a soulmate type trope. This is set centuries after the Dance of Dragons: some deviations from canon. Dark!Aemond. Aemond and Alys are psychos together. Plenty detailed mention of sex. Lots of blood. It is about 2AM; I only (briefly!) did an edit run through once :0.

Author's Note: hello! in taking a break from Dark Cherry because my motivation was on the rocks for that one, this entire series has been planned out. I seriously, seriously couldn't wait to get into this one. This chapter is still pretty introductory and in pure me fashion; it ended up very heavy on the internal happenings etc. Some things may not make as much sense just yet but trust me, it will in chapters to come!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please let me know of your thoughts, feelings, advice, etc etc etc. Love you all!

(p.s: check out the prologue for a bit of important background!)

Series Masterlist. General Masterlist.

The storm that had taken place inside Aemond’s veins had calmed by the third day that had passed since your arrival. His mind had cleared and he’d finally managed to satiate the onslaught of violent hunger through other means, and while there was still an empty pit in the depths of his stomach that would fill with only your blood, he had to make do with poor merchant who had lost his way on his travels. 

As he sat at the armchair in the corner of the chambers he had readied for you all but centuries ago, Aemond realised that your recovery was quicker than he had anticipated. You didn’t fit well in the vastness of the bed that you lay in, lost among the sheets and cushions, your frame overwhelmed by the immensity of the room that was still one of the smallest that Harrenhal had to offer. 

Three days had passed and you had yet to wake from the first sleep you fell into. 

Fever had taken you for the first day and a half, quelled with the second dose of his blood that he had dripped from his wrist to your soft mouth. It was rather difficult to ensure you had swallowed it while unconscious but Aemond was familiar with such issues and had held your lips shut and whispered in your ear until your body had no choice but to swallow. 

Coming back to his senses after being forced so suddenly into a foreign, all consuming need for a stranger’s blood was like a slap to his face. Aemond had never met you before today but he had known exactly who you were as soon as the Shadow had lifted from him. 

The parchment in his hand felt heavier than it ever had before now. It crossed Aemond’s mind that he had no other way to be sure of who you were aside from the way you called to him just by your presence alone. He could swear that you were whispering to him, even in your slumber and in your silence, the key to his salvation and all the answers he had spent centuries tirelessly searching for. So softly and so distantly that Aemond couldn’t make out what you were trying to tell him; what he needed to hear. 

Yet he could almost feel the words your body and blood wished to tell him within his own veins, burning him from the inside out in a wordless call for him to return to you or you’d both turn to dust and ashes on the cold floor.

Moonlight that streamed in from the opened window cast a soft, pearly glow on your skin. Aemond scowled at the thought of how angelic you looked despite being amidst the evil and sin that tainted the walls of this castle. 

Innocent. Pure. Soft. 

Out of place in his home, doomed to a fate you were undeserving of. The thought of it weighed heavy in his chest but he turned away from you, chiding himself for letting his mind wander where it was not welcome. Instead, his eye fell to the rough roll of parchment in his hands. 

Red seeped through to the other side of the paper. Another curse written in Alys’ blood, words he had studied over and over since the moment she had thrown it in his face. 

The price of your rebirth, my love. The debt that you owe me for all of this that I have done for you. And for the pain you will bestow upon me which I will never escape from. 

The price of his rebirth had already been paid. Yet Aemond knew there was no use in reasoning with Alys Rivers. Not when he had scorned her so strongly within her mind that even upon turning her into the same powerful creature she had created in him, and even upon making her his wife, she would not speak of her curse any further.

It was of no importance until Oliver had brought you through the gates of Harrenhal. Until Aemond had been face to face with the missing piece of his soul, gazing at him with a hurricane of emotions in your eyes and balancing on the brink of your death. 

Aemond wasn’t quite sure which of the villages or towns had sent you but he understood well enough that their doctor must have spun some tale of how you were not to be saved by any practitioner of the ordinary sort to direct you here. Had the doctor not upheld his end of the understanding the townsfolk had with their Lord, his little angel would have succumbed to a death far more peaceful than the one she now faces. 

You stirred, rustling the sheets and grumbling under your breath about an ache in your bones. The dryness in your throat had surprised you, and before you had even opened your eyes, Aemond was sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of water held towards you. There was something dark and twisted that flashed through his gaze and he smirked, the corner of his lips raised in amusement.

The unfamiliarity of your surroundings startled you, and you gasped at the man who was beside you, jaw falling slack as you scrambled to sit up. Grumbling at a wave of dizziness, you scooted away from Aemond with a sleepy glare. You winced at the rawness in your throat, looking at the glass in his hand warily. 

Something lingered in the air around him. A dark, unsettling stillness that felt like a foreboding warning of suffering and panic. Lord Targaryen, as you had realised this man was none other than the Lord that you had been lead towards, had a face that was sharp and stern. The dark eye patch and scar along his cheek did nothing to undermine the radiating, inhumane sense of beauty that had thrown you off guard upon your first sight of him.

“‘Tis only water,” his voice was deep and low yet still oddly gentle. “I’ve practically brought you back from death, sweet thing. You do not need to doubt me.”

The entire room seemed to be covered in shadows save for the bed, which was under the light that streamed in from the window. You surveyed the rest of what you assumed had become your bedchamber with caution, looking for any sign of Oliver’s presence. There was nothing. 

Apprehensively, you reached for the glass and tried not to drink the water too quickly, ignoring the hum of satisfaction that sounded beside you. “Where is my brother?”

“Perhaps an Inn at one of the neighbouring villages.”

“He would not leave me here alone,” you grumbled, remembering the way he had fought to turn you around before you had been taken within the castle’s walls. Fear settled in your gut when you saw the careless shrug of the Lord’s shoulder, his eye trailing down your face and resting at your neck. 

Sweeter and richer. The scent of you had tugged at his restraint from the moment Aemond had known of your arrival at Harrenhal. But as you looked at him now, wide eyes gazing at him with a sense of fear mixed with a dangerous curiosity and your lips shining from the water you had just drank, he understood that he was mistaken in assuming things would be as straightforward as he had prepared for.

“Don’t worry about him,” Aemond’s fists clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for you and have his way with your flesh. His patience had worn itself thin over the many years of his life but this was bordering on too much. 

It was as if you were sent to push him over the edge, so that he gave into whatever lay simmering under the layers of his skin, rushing through him with a primal need to sink his teeth and his cock into your perfect body. Aemond’s hand raised to your cheek, pausing in the moment that you flinched away with a gasp, before dragging the back of his knuckles along the skin of your jaw. 

Another hum from the depths of his chest and he felt the shiver of your body as a result. “Lean back. Be calm.”

“Be calm?” You practically gaped at him. “Why was my brother so afraid of you? What did he see–what did you say to him?”

A scowl grew on his face at the way you bypassed his command with an onslaught of questions. Aemond swatted at your hand when you raised it to push him away, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back with a tug. 

So pliable in his hands, you hadn’t fought him further than the sneer you had flashed him and it sent a satisfied rush right down to his core. All you needed to do was look at him, to be close enough so that all he could taste in the air was the homely sweetness of your blood and the deliciousness between your legs, and Aemond thought that he would be as hard as stone for the rest of his eternal life.

“Your brother is fine. I did nothing to him, he was merely tired from your travels–stop trying to scratch me. I am only trying to help you,” he smacked at your hands once again. With a swift movement, he dragged the skin of his wrist against his teeth and held it above your lips. “Drink. Just two drops. Clearly you are recovering well enough to be a nuisance already but we must return you to perfect health.”

The first small drop of warm scarlet against your mouth instantly made you gag, and you stared at him with a wide eyed shock and revulsion as you spat it back at him. It made him grunt, his frustration manifesting in a sharp jerk of the hand that had fisted in your hair. 

He was feeding you his own blood. 

You struggled, barely able to find the strength to form a strong fist before swinging it at him. It missed when he gracefully dodged your hit. 

“What is this–”

Aemond huffed, pressing his wrist against your mouth and moving his hand from your hair to your jaw. “This is what has saved your tiny little life.”

The doubt in your mind had yielded in a matter of seconds and you had forgotten all about the fleeting thoughts of what nonsense he could be speaking of. For blood was just blood and it was no miracle cure; it couldn’t possibly be. But whatever he had been doing, it had worked when nothing else had and your body felt one thousand times lighter than it had before. 

There was only a measly couple of drops that had hit your tongue, sugary and metallic, and before you could register anything, a moan had fallen from your lips. For a second, your eyelids drooped at the wave of ease and warmth through your body. 

Aemond’s fingers on your jaw tightened and he had pulled you into his chest in a single jolt. Much to his distaste, his body forever seemed to act on its own accord when you were near. It was a primal instinct that was forcing him to have you, body and soul, as a part of himself. That sound you had made from the taste of him, the feeling of your lips on his skin and the soft gasps that you failed to hold back had snapped the final string of his restraint. 

Blood and sex were one and the same for Aemond. His taste for depravity and sin came hand in hand with his appetite for violence and death. And while Aemond had to consume human blood to survive, it was more than just what he needed. He enjoyed the gore and the fear that he created, he enjoyed the power he held over life and death, and he enjoyed knowing that whichever poor soul had met its end at his hands had become a part of his own endless youth.

His cock was always quick to respond to the sight of blood. But this was different. For one, Aemond had never cared for his own blood. It was not special and it didn’t flow as freely as human blood did. And secondly, Aemond had never cared for much more than the momentary, physical release that sex gave him and the satisfaction of a good meal. Yet here he was, almost gagging with a new, unwelcome and frantic desire that he could not recognise. 

The shift was so fast that it had you dizzy, the slight buzz on your skin from just two drops of his blood lingered as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Being so close to him that the hardness of his body was flush against your own placed a veil over your mind, expelling all thoughts to run from your head. 

Amongst the arms of a Lord, held to him as if he intended to merge the two of you into one, you thought of nothing else but the loud rush of want in your veins. Still, there was a voice at the back of your mind that was screaming danger, and you winced at the harshness of his grip on you. 

“I am laying here in the home of a stranger, my lord. Forgive me for my worry if it offends you, but there is all the chance that you could hurt me. Or kill me.” When you spoke, your words were shaky. Head held high, you found the will to ignore whatever force was compelling your body to unite with his in every way that it could.

Aemond hummed. “I will not kill you.”

Lie. I will tear you limb from limb and bleed you dry. 

“I guess I have no choice other than to take your word for it,” you muttered, staring long and hard at the sheets that covered you. The phantom taste of his blood on your tongue was enough for you to doubt him. You would not stay here with him. “But I am feeling far better now. If you tell me where my brother is, I will leave by nightfall.”

“It is already past nightfall. And I do not know where he is.”

Curiously, it was indeed. Only upon looking towards the window did you notice that it was night. In the state that you had felt upon waking up, you could have sworn it would have been morning with the sunlight shining through the curtains. Aemond ignored your confusion. 

“You are yet to recover completely.” He gave you an odd smile, tight lipped and accompanied by a glimmer in his eye. The bed shifted as he let go of you with great hesitance, standing tall and moving towards the doors.  “Until then, you are a welcome guest in our home. Once you are freshened up, I hope you will join my wife and I in the dining hall for a meal.”

A hot bath and fresh clothes had done you well. About an hour had passed while you were tended to by Delya, the quiet young maid who looked to be rather uncomfortable in your presence. Delya had reminded you of your belongings that had been kept in the drawer beside the bed, your small bag squashed into the tight space. You pulled the faded blue cotton dress that you had packed. A dress that was fit for a woman of your standing, from a family not poor enough to be a part of the peasantry yet still without the sufficient riches to be nobility. 

From the moment you had stepped from your bath, you noticed the complete lack of mirrors in the apartment. Strangely enough, Delya had combed through your hair and helped you get ready without a mirror, ignoring you entirely when you had asked both about the mirror and about having your meal alone in your room. By the time that she was finished, you had accepted her reluctance to answer your questions. The only words she had spoken were the directions to the dining hall. There was a long, sideways glare that she had given you paired with her grin and she all but sang her instructions. 

Left, then right at the window at the end of the hallway, down the stairs and left again at the first turn. No earlier than an hour from when Delya had left you to yourself. 

Even though Delya had told you to wait for an hour, the deep pangs of hunger and a gnawing curiosity had sent you out of your chamber doors after the first thirty minutes. Candles were mounted onto the walls and the silence was so intense that you could hear them flicker if you strained your ears. It was still dimly lit with whatever light there was, reflecting off of the dark walls in orange hues. You could only see a short distance down the hallway to the right, shadows creating the illusion that the path down there would lead to a never ending void of black nothingness. 

So you turned left, as was the directions and let yourself admire the tapestries that hung on the walls. It would have been a grand and beautiful home had it been cared for with warmth and love. And you had the urge to discover more of it, reaching for the handle of the first door you had come across. After all, should the Lord of the Land have anything to say about it, it was he who had called you a welcome guest. 

Locked. As was the next door. And the next. 

With a shrug, you continued down the hallway, fiddling with the locked door handles as a pointless distraction from reaching the dining hall earlier than you were told to. But as you neared the end of the hallway, the window lighting up the final stretch with moonlight, you turned away suddenly from the doors and tapestries of the left wall.

First, you noticed the putrid, rotting scent. It made you gag, and you instantly lifted your hand to cover your mouth and nose, sleeve pulled far over your fingers. When you frantically searched for the source of it - maybe an open door, or something decomposed stuck to a spider web, there was nothing. 

Until you cast your eyes to the floor, gasping and gagging once more. The drop in your stomach and a stab of fear in your gut forced you forwards, following the pool of scarlet that seemed to start only inches away from your feet. 

It went on towards the end of the hallway, where it turned around around the corner to the right, away from the staircase that was to the left. At parts, it was merely streaks that had been dragged from a larger puddle of blood and left thinner stains. And at others, it pooled and settled, marred with bits of what you could only assume was flesh and fabrics. 

There was a dizzying, strong flush of prickling heat that rushed over you and while it seemed like in an instant, you could hear more and feel more and smell more, you couldn’t focus on anything coherent within your mind.

A distant curdling scream that came from a man, followed by another one that cried for help pulled you out of your shock. Whoever had bled so much had surely met a violent and painful fate and you were suddenly hyper aware that something or someone had done this only moments before, right where you stood. 

The trail of blood turned in the direction away from where Delya had directed but at the sound of another cry for help, muffled from distance, you turned right and followed it. Another gag, and you turned to rest against the opposite wall, hunching over and retching emptily. There was nothing aside from bile to lose in your stomach.  

When you looked to see where the blood led, it stopped only a few more feet down the corridor, disappearing under a door that was left only slightly ajar. 

Suddenly, upon noticing the way the door moved gently as if it had only just been opened, all you felt was a white, ringing dread. Instinctively, your legs moved to turn around and the only thing that you could piece together from your panic was to run. 

You screamed the moment you felt him behind you, his presence making you yell out and your only reflex was to move forwards and away from him. In an instant you had moved towards the door, to hide behind it maybe–you had no idea, only for a strong arm to pull it shut, slamming it into your body that was now pressed tightly against the hardwood. The heels of your slippers slid atop the blood but before you could fall, a hard, strong body had caged you in.

There was dread in your body like you had never felt before and no matter how hard you gasped and panted, you just could not breathe. Again, a scream of agony and terror that was louder, and echoed now that you were forced against the door and you sobbed at the thought of what may lay behind it. 

It was Aemond’s chest flush against your back, a hand flat against the wood and the other gripping your hip with a fierceness that shot a bolt of sharp pain up your side. His face fell to the valley of your neck, inhaling strongly against your skin and when you cried, struggling against him to turn and run, he growled. “Do not turn around.”

Something about Aemond was different. It was not as if you knew him before at all but there was a strange strength in his body, you hadn’t felt it when he had held you just hours ago. Whenever he was near, your body screamed at you that he was dangerous, that you needed to leave and be far away from him and this place. Nevertheless, you were drawn to Aemond amongst your fear of him. 

Now, you had every urge to flee. And you struggled even more, without thinking to, pushing against Aemond as he was hardly affected by how you fought him. If anything, he would continue to force himself unbearably closer.  Tears that welled in your eyes blinded you as you tried to glance to the side, hoping and praying that there would be someone who could get him away from you. 

Aemond smelled woody and smoky under the sickly stench of blood and flesh. It overwhelmed everything, and it seemed like he was more animal than man with the way his chest heaved against you, and he snarled into your skin. When you grunted, shoving as hard as you can, all he did was drop a hand to push your face forward. Again, Aemond told you to stay still. 

“You can try and fight me all that you wish,” he chuckled, the deep vibration of his voice against the skin of your neck made you whimper. “It will be of no use. There are many dangers among these halls and I am the worst of them. But you do not need to be afraid of me. I will not hurt you.”

You sobbed. “What have you done to that poor–”

Aemond delighted in the way that you trembled, the tempting scent of you taking his mind entirely by tenfold. It was his hopeless charge to resist sinking his teeth in the soft flesh that his tongue swiped across, the heaviness of your frightened heartbeat pulsing against his lips. 

“You have no idea how divine your terror smells,” he muttered deeply, flexing the fingers that were pressed into your hip. You could feel all of him. And the hardness of his cock pressed against your backside sent a heat straight down to your core when Aemond nipped gently at the skin above your pulse point. “There is only so much of your torture that I can endure before I lose the last of my control, my dove. Nothing tastes better than fear and lust. And your body sings with both for me.”

The Shadow of bloodlust that befell him and what was left of his precious family was no stranger to Aemond. In his centuries of life after the war that had taken everything from him, he had never felt it so absolutely and so relentlessly. 

For lifetime after lifetime Aemond had waited eagerly for the moment you would come to him so that he could rid himself of the weakness you were certain to bring him. Because you were here to die and in your death, Aemond would be freed of his sorrow and his torment. 

Aemond had convinced himself that when the time came, that he could resist. That he had the strength to pay the price he owed easily. That if he tried enough, you would never become so important to him that losing you would mean to lose a part of himself. Thinking of it now that you were here, in his home and in his arms, it would be a difficult task. 

Nonetheless, now that you were here and now that Aemond knew what it meant to need you to satiate the new incessant, uncontrollable hunger that he was burdened with, it was his cross to bear. Eventually, once your blood is free of illness and you have served your purpose, Aemond could indulge in you without consequence. There was a tug at the thought, deep in his gut and in the hollows of his chest, that he refused to acknowledge. 

“What is happening in there? Is that person–did someone kill him?” You were finding it difficult to breathe. The sounds coming from the other side of the door had stopped and you turned to look at him, only for him to grunt and keep you in place.  

“He came to us like this. Dying. I may be able to help him just as I’ve helped you.”

He wasn’t even trying to be convincing. There was more to what he said than just his words, and when you swallowed thickly and squirmed against him, Aemond let his lips return to your neck. The soft, tingling sensation on your skin made you whine, scrambling to make sense of everything that was happening. 

It was horrid. Sinful. Disastrous. Shameful. 

Here was the man in whose home you were witnessing such horror. The man who was naught but a stranger, no matter how your entire being felt as if you were reuniting with a lost part of your soul. But the way Aemond’s voice caressed your nerves, calmed you and set you into a very different frenzy was absolute and irrevocable. You were terrified in a way that you had never felt until now yet there was a thrum of desire between your legs, and your body urged you to both run away and melt into him. 

“There is nowhere for you to run away to,” he drawled. Aemond’s hands were everywhere as he kept you pinned against the door with his body, squeezing your hips, the flesh of your backside and thighs. If you pushed against him, he would only breathe out a laugh muffled into your neck and squeeze harder. “It delights me to have found you like this. And while I enjoy your fear, my dove, you are in no state to be so distressed.”

You wanted to scream and scratch at him. “Who are you?”

“You already know my name. It is all you need.”

“That’s not–why did you hurt that man?” The sensitivity of your skin under his touch jostled all of the thoughts in your brain into a mess of nonsense. “This is not right–”

“Of course it is. All of this body,” Aemond couldn’t help but smother his lips into your skin, licking and sucking kissing across your neck. He yanked at the sleeve of your dress until it had ripped right off, nipping his way across the newly exposed skin of your shoulder. “All of its perfect dips and curves, your skin and everything beneath it. It was made for me. There is nothing more right, my dove, than this.” 

“I don’t understand,” you gasped, arching into him when his kisses grazed a sensitive spot along your bicep. Gingerly, Aemond held your arm to the side, making his way to your wrist. “Please, I do not understand.”

A hum was the only response he gave you, sighing as he dragged the tip of his nose over the underside of your wrist. Aemond’s hips rutted forward, rubbing his throbbing cock against you in the moment that he had taken a loud, desperate breath in. You realised that he was smelling you again and turned to watch him. Quick as lightning, he turned his face away from you but placed a tender kiss to your wrist. 

Red had been streaked across your arm, smudged all along the expanse of your skin. It wasn’t your own and when it came to your mind that it was the same blood of whoever the man behind the door was, you cried out. Catching a glimpse only of his chin and lips messy with the blood, the haze of arousal lifted from your mind as if someone had beat you out of it. 

“Stop–stop, please,” you thrashed and thrashed, hoping it would shove him off you somehow. “Please, my Lord.”

Aemond understood what you pleaded for. His hips stilled but he kept you pressed against the surface, your wrist grazing his teeth when he spoke. “As much as I ache for you, I will not fuck you yet. Not if you do not want me to. But a taste of you is the least I deserve and I cannot deprive myself of it any further.”

There was something animalistic in the way he spoke. Something had overcome him, something far different to the version of him you experienced just before. But before you could think on any of it further, a sultry, feminine voice called for him. Instantly, Aemond had pushed you away, snarling audibly at the dark haired woman who had approached from the other side of the corridor. 

You felt the relief of it instantly. But your breath still caught in your throat and you fell to lean on the door in the absence of Aemond’s body holding you upright. 

The Lord’s back was turned to you and you could see the tenseness in his muscles through the billowy, bloodstained shirt that he wore. Aemond was silent, seething quietly as the dark haired woman stepped into him, her nimble fingers reaching to stroke his cheek and rest at his jaw. You couldn’t see much of her, but she was speaking to him, softly so that you couldn’t hear her.  

Aemond was unnaturally stiff, a stark contrast to the softness of the woman who had saved you from something you couldn’t even bring yourself to think about. 

Briefly, you wondered if she was the wife he had mentioned earlier. It would make sense if she were but you caught her eye over his shoulder before you could consider that any further. Her eyes, simultaneously cold and calculating while also kind and warm, flickered towards the direction from which you came. 

At the subtle nod of her head, a sign that this was your chance to leave, you forced yourself to move. All but sprinting back down the halls that lead you here, you were surprised to find Delya standing outside your chamber doors, watching as you rushed inside and slammed the heavy door shut behind you. 

More silence. But the sound of pained wails rang around in your head as you closed your eyes for a moment, catching your breath and trying to stall the panic that caused you to retch once again. The image of so much blood, chunks of flesh and torn clothes was stuck in the forefront of your mind. 

It took only minutes to drag whatever furniture you could to pile it in front of the large door. There was little chance anyone could push the door open with such a blockade by the time you were done. Yet it did nothing to quell the fright and worry that you felt as you collapsed against the bed, a sudden weakness crashing into you all at once. 

Sleep did not come easy. But in the rush of all that had happened, you hardly noticed that the curtains had been drawn while you were gone. They were large and heavy, and had you the strength to look behind them, you would have seen that it was already morning.