#i wish i remembered this exchange better
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wisteria-html · 28 days ago
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Ok. What the fuck. I’m back to normal now, I think.
My fingertips still look ink stained. My shadow is still much darker than it should be, though it doesn’t seem to be radiating malice anymore. It’s more—protective? At least that’s what it feels like.
The book is gone. Van took the ashes away from me and I swear that I will NEVER touch something like that again. Not even with supervision (unless the circumstances are VERY DIRE).
The darkness still calls to me, but in a different way. It’s more like I’ve carved out my own place inside of it and now I know I can be safe there. Maybe over time I’ll learn to harness it, or maybe I’ll just ignore it, but there is something in me that wasn’t there before.
My mind is unaltered, though. I am back to being me, and Van and Birdie can both attest to that. The end gets fuzzy but I know they stopped whatever I was trying to do and I’m better for it. I know it hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt. I think if it had gone on for much longer I wouldn’t have been able to get all of myself back.
I’m gonna take a break from all of this craziness. I still love Vicky and my friends and will be interacting, but it will be like before all of my own story started. I need time to put myself back together.
TLDR; I got cursed by a book, I am back to normal mentally but seem to be linked to darkness physically (like some kind of avatar? That feels like the right word for some reason), and I am now going to take a step back from the supernatural adventures. Sorry Van, I’ll go on a hunt with you eventually.
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arsenicflame · 4 months ago
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feeling some kind of way about all my friends living so fucking far away tonight
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araneitela · 1 year ago
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Me: Talks about the significance and intimacy (not automatically romantic, folks, but also there's an inherent romanticism) of hands, and touch and who you let into that space of comfort. Pinterest: Did you say hands? Here, we've adjusted your home feed you so that you. cannot. possibly. escape. them. you're. welcome. Me: I just wanted— what did I want, again?
... Did I end up rambling about anything but hands in my tags? Yes. Welcome to me, this is what you sign up for. Not my portrayal, not my writing, my tag rambles.
#[ ooc. ] don't try to make it logical or edit your soul according to the fashion. rather; follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.#[ i literally don't remember what i went on here for. ]#[ i thought it was an icon but it was not. ]#[ instead i'm now thinking of the importance of her gloves. ]#[ and how they're a barrier between her and humanity. or everything inherently human; more so. ]#[ they're an aesthetic. yes. of course-- but it's more than that. in characters made by hoyo? everything always has 5 more layers. ]#[ at the very least. ]#[ ugh. i wish i could organize my thoughts and talk about the 'versions' of rather-- layers of kafka herself. ]#[ without it being 24 paragraphs long. ]#[ it's just gotten so complicated because you see her presenting herself in such way for so long. ]#[ voice. attitude. indifference. playfulness. and all of those remain except they falter more when she's around two individuals. ]#[ i can't even include sw and elio in this yet. because while kafka seemed to lean a little towards her more normal voice... ]#[ in the pier point dialogue with sw; it was only sometimes. it was so inconsistent. ]#[ same with sam. granted there's only one exchange between them so far. ]#[ but i digress-- then i get her story quest and in it she softens not even a little. but decently enough. ]#[ is /that/ the pretense? no you don't fake that. you don't fake how she says '...you're not leaving?' that delivery is vocal perfection. ]#[ but /that/ plays so well into all these other very human elements that she has. ]#[ i swear-- part of me truly believes she's already /on/ the path of 'learning' to feel a semblance of what fear is. or better yet... ]#[ what it /stems/ from. ]#[ because we say 'she has no concept of fear' but what does that MEAN. does that mean across the board? ]#[ concern stems from fear. you need /care/ and investment to feel fear. she /shows/ concern actively. she risks a lot to-- ]#[ be concerned about blade. and yes; she lacks the fear of them getting caught. but she's concerned for him. ]#[ and she's also practical and analytical; she knows if they get caught-- blade worsens. ]#[ and while it also endangers the 'future' a bit; she harps on blade. she also confides in the MC about her concern. ]#[ i just. ]#[ this is so much more complicated than i thought it'd be. ]#[ and also this whole concept of what humans fall into when they lack fear. how they become metaphorical 'demons'... ]#[ that pursue pleasure and thrill. but she became a /hunter/ of them. and yet she shows a lesser shade of it herself. ]#[ i just. think she's so inherently and stupidly interesting. HI GUYS. HANDS. i totally went on a tangent. ]#[ ... not about hands. ]
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solxamber · 3 months ago
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How Not to Court Your Crush: A Disaster in Six Acts - Malleus Draconia x reader
You're trying to court Malleus so why is he acting so weird? Malleus is trying to court you, so why are you acting so weird.
aka you try fae courtship and malleus tries human courtship, you both fail spectacularly.
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Scene 1: The Offering of... Chaos?
You were determined. Absolutely, one hundred percent determined to win over Malleus Draconia’s heart the fae way. You’d done your research—well, half-researched. You might’ve skimmed some books. Okay, maybe you watched some video where a guy talked about it for 10 minutes. But still! You were ready to tackle fae courting, head-on.
Which is why you were standing in the middle of the campus courtyard holding a potted mandrake. Because, according to some source (you couldn’t quite remember which), gifting rare plants was a surefire way to court a fae prince.
Unfortunately, no one told you that the mandrake in question would scream like a banshee as soon as you yanked it out of the dirt.
"Behold!" You shouted, thrusting the potted terror toward Malleus, who had appeared in his usual fashion—stealthy and majestic, like a dragon perching on a mountain. "A rare gift for the noble Prince of Briar Valley!"
The mandrake, in all its wailing glory, let out a soul-piercing shriek. Nearby students flung themselves behind trees and bushes. Sebek fainted. Silver, as usual, napped through the chaos.
Malleus blinked at you. Once. Twice. His face was a mixture of confusion and slight amusement. "Are you... trying to summon something?"
You frowned. "Summon? No! This is for you!" You held the screaming mandrake higher, like an offering to some ancient god. "As a... token of my appreciation! You like plants, right?"
The mandrake let out a final, particularly blood-curdling scream before going silent, wilting slightly in the pot. Malleus blinked once. Twice. “I... do like plants, yes. But usually... not ones that wish to harm me.”
You grinned, proud of your extremely thoughtful choice. “Well, this one just has personality!”
Malleus cautiously took the pot from you, staring down at the now exhausted mandrake. “Thank you,” he said, sounding unsure if you were joking or being sincere. “I’ll... treasure it.”
Somewhere in the distance, Ace and Deuce exchanged pitying looks. “Man,” Ace muttered, “he doesn’t deserve this.”
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Scene 2: The Worst Poem Ever Written
Malleus had been doing his own research—much more thorough than yours, of course. He’d read books. Lots of them. Mostly ancient tomes from his castle library that were centuries old. After all, human courting customs couldn’t have changed that much, right?
His plan was foolproof: Humans enjoyed poetry. Therefore, he would craft you the most beautiful, heart-stopping poem ever written, and your affection for him would blossom like the midnight roses of Briar Valley.
He found you sitting under a tree near the school, probably recovering from your last spectacular fae courting attempt (the less said about the mandrake incident, the better). Malleus approached with all the grace of a dark prince, his black cloak billowing in the wind, carrying a scroll in his hand.
"Dearest," he began, as you looked up from your phone. "I have composed a poem for you. An ode to your beauty and grace."
Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Yes. Please, allow me." He unfurled the scroll dramatically.
You sat back, intrigued. This was either going to be a disaster or absolute gold. Either way, you were ready.
Malleus cleared his throat, then began to read with all the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor:
"Your hair, like the moss that grows on the oldest tombstones,
Your eyes, like the deepest, darkest, creepiest of wells,
Your voice, as soothing as the distant scream of a lost soul..."
You snorted. "What?"
"Your beauty is like the moon, that I can never reach, because it is in the sky... far away... and also made of rock." He paused, glancing at you hopefully. “Do you like it so far?”
You bit your lip, desperately trying not to laugh. "Um... It's... something. Keep going."
Malleus beamed. "There’s more!"
"Your hands, soft like the belly of a small woodland creature..." He continued, and you finally lost it, howling with laughter. “Is it not... moving?”
You waved your hands, barely able to breathe through your giggles. "Malleus! Are you... Are you serious?!"
“I thought humans liked dark poetry,” he said, looking genuinely concerned.
“Well, some do, but—” You stopped yourself, trying not to laugh. “No, wait, keep going. I want to hear more.”
Malleus, relieved, continued. “Your beauty is like the full moon—cold, distant, and surrounded by darkness.”
Somewhere behind a nearby tree, Lilia was biting his lip to stop from laughing, while Ace and Deuce shared looks of absolute pity for their friend and Malleus.
Ace shook his head. “Poor guy. He’s trying so hard.”
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Scene 3: The... Ambush?
Since the plant-gifting thing didn’t go quite as planned, you decided that maybe a more public display of affection would be the ticket. According to something you half-remembered (and maybe misunderstood), fae really appreciated grand gestures of intent. So, naturally, you chose the school cafeteria at lunchtime as your stage.
As you climbed on top of a table, all eyes turned toward you. Malleus sat at a corner table, watching you with his usual calm, collected demeanor, but you could see the confusion in his eyes.
"Prince Malleus!" you shouted dramatically, lifting your arms in the air. “I declare before all of these witnesses that I shall offer this to you!”
The cafeteria fell into dead silence. Well, except for Lilia, who was quietly choking on his laughter in the background.
Malleus blinked, his expression unreadable. “You... what?”
"Yes! I offer you—" you pulled out the cabbage you’d swiped from the kitchen earlier—"this symbol of my devotion!"
Malleus stared at the cabbage in your hands. "Is that... a vegetable?"
“Yes! It’s a sign of fertility or... something.” You weren’t entirely sure, but it sounded right. “I picked it myself!”
Malleus blinked again, clearly trying to process this information. “I... appreciate the gesture."
Lilia butts in. "Beastie, I’m afraid cabbages aren’t typically used in fae courting rituals.”
You pouted, hopping off the table. “What? But I read that—"
“Perhaps... next time, try flowers?”
Behind you, Ace facepalmed. “Oh, man. They're hopeless.”
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Scene 4: The Gift of... Dirt?
Malleus was now absolutely convinced that something was seriously wrong with you. You seemed... more chaotic than usual, and while he enjoyed your enthusiasm, he had no idea why you were suddenly thrusting vegetables at him.
In his effort to reciprocate (and maybe figure out what was going on), he decided to give you a gift of his own. A very special one. From his homeland.
After all, humans liked sentimental gifts, right?
That’s why, one morning, he approached you with a small velvet pouch in his hand, his face filled with sincerity. “Child of Man, I have something for you.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head, curious. “What’s that?”
He handed you the pouch, and you opened it, only to find... dirt. Black, slightly glittery dirt.
You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the dirt. “Is this... dirt?”
“Yes,” Malleus said proudly. “From Briar Valley. It’s a very special soil, infused with the magic of my homeland.”
You blinked. “You got me dirt.”
“Very magical dirt,” he corrected, as if that made it better.
You bit back a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. “Um... thanks?”
Ace, watching from a distance, nudged Deuce. “Man, They're gonna end up with a garden at this rate.”
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Scene 5: The Unnecessary Duel
Clearly, you had been doing something wrong, because your attempts at fae courtship had been met with nothing but polite confusion. But you were nothing if not determined. The next step in your (completely misguided) strategy? Prove your strength in battle. Duh.
You marched up to Malleus one afternoon, sword in hand, and pointed it at his chest. "Malleus Draconia! I challenge you to a duel!"
Malleus blinked at you, clearly baffled. “A duel? With... me?”
“Yes!” you declared, brandishing the sword with a flourish. “I shall prove myself worthy of your admiration through combat!”
Malleus tilted his head. “You... wish to fight me?”
You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! To the death! Or until someone taps out. Whatever works.”
Malleus looked utterly bewildered but amused. “I... see. But are you sure this is necessary?”
"Absolutely. I need to show you my strength." You tried to strike a dramatic pose, but the sword was way heavier than it looked.
Lilia, perched nearby, was barely containing his laughter. “Oh, this is too good.”
Malleus raised his hand. “Perhaps another time. I would not want to harm you.”
You frowned. “Harm me? Pfft. I’m tougher than I look, dragon boy.”
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Scene 6: The Romantic Walk—Through a Thunderstorm
Malleus had one last idea. Humans, he’d read, liked romantic walks. That was simple, right? No vegetables. No poetry. Just a quiet stroll. What could possibly go wrong?
Unfortunately, he decided to take you for a walk through the forest on a day when the sky decided to unleash the full wrath of a thunderstorm. And because he was a fae, storms didn’t bother him.
You, on the other hand, were not a fan of being drenched to the bone.
The rain came down in sheets, lightning crackling overhead as you both trudged through the mud. You tried to keep your umbrella steady, but the wind whipped it inside out almost immediately.
“Malleus,” you called over the storm, shouting to be heard. “Why are we walking in this? Are you trying to drown me?”
Malleus, entirely unfazed by the downpour, turned to you, his face serious. “I thought a walk through nature would be a calming experience for you.”
You stared at him, your hair sticking to your face, clothes soaked through, and boots filled with mud. “Calming?! I’m about to be struck by lightning!”
He blinked, as if only now realizing the storm might be an issue for you. “Ah, I see. Humans are... more susceptible to storms. My apologies.”
“Ya think?” You huffed, clutching your now-ruined umbrella. “A ‘romantic stroll’ usually involves good weather.”
Malleus frowned, looking genuinely troubled. “I thought the power of the storm would inspire awe.”
“Yeah, it’s inspiring me to run back inside.” You sighed, shivering. “This is... sweet, I guess. But, uh, maybe next time we check the weather before planning any ‘romantic’ activities?”
As you struggled to wipe rain from your face, you caught a glimpse of Lilia again—he was standing under a tree, dry as could be, watching the scene unfold with glee. His mischievous grin practically radiated from the shadows.
“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” you shouted toward him, but Lilia just waved, clearly loving the chaos.
Malleus, still deep in thought about his failed attempt at human courtship, suddenly looked serious. “Perhaps a different form of human bonding is needed next time.”
Behind you, Ace and Deuce were trailing a safe distance away, both dripping wet but trying to keep from laughing too loudly.
“Man,” Ace muttered, shaking his head. “They're gonna give the poor guy a heart attack one day.”
Deuce nodded solemnly. “Or he’ll get us all killed.”
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After days of mutual confusion and failed courtship rituals, you found yourself, once again, sitting with Malleus in one of the school’s many quiet courtyards.
“Y’know,” you began, squinting at him. “I feel like you’ve been acting weird lately.”
Malleus gave you a similar look. “I’ve been thinking the same about you.”
You blinked. “Wait, me? What do you mean?”
“Well,” Malleus said, his brow furrowed, “you’ve been offering me... odd gifts. Vegetables. Challenging me to duels. Declaring intentions in public spaces. It’s... unusual.”
You froze. “That’s... fae courtship. I’ve been trying to... y’know...”
Malleus’ eyes widened. “You’ve been attempting to court me?”
Your face flushed. “Well, yeah! I thought you were acting strange, so I figured you were waiting for someone to, I don’t know, woo you.”
Malleus’ confusion quickly shifted to amusement. “I’ve been trying to court you this whole time.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re what?!”
“I believed you were in distress, so I attempted human courting rituals. Clearly, they didn’t go as planned.”
You both stared at each other for a long moment, the realization of mutual failure sinking in. Then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing, and Malleus, after a moment, chuckled too.
“Well,” you managed between laughs, “we really suck at this.”
“Indeed,” Malleus agreed, his eyes warm with amusement. “Perhaps next time, we should... communicate better.”
“Yeah,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “That might help.”
From a safe distance, Lilia watched, his face beaming with pride. “Ah, young love,” he sighed dramatically. “How wonderfully chaotic.”
Ace shook his head, utterly done with the entire situation. “They’re hopeless.”
Deuce nodded in agreement. “At least it’s finally over... right?”
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They're so stupid (affectionate)
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chxnsgirl · 3 days ago
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── .✦ between heaven and you ; lee felix
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⋆。 ˚༘ ♫ turning page - sleeping at last
"ever since you came into my life, you taught me all about unconditional love."
» synopsis: after watching you struggle for so long, your guardian angel falls for you, and ends up breaking celestial laws just to be in your presence. angel!felix x afab!reader
» a/n: i tried a different writing style for this story, it took me about three weeks to finish. this was kind of inspired by felix's unfair mv. the concept of him as an angel suits him so well. i'll put content warnings but please read at your own risk, there will be heavy heavy topics mentioned in this fic. - mostly proofread.
» cw: brief mentions of sexual assault, depression, suicide attempts, drug and alcohol abuse, blood, domestic abuse (physical, verbal, and emotional), minho is an asshole (sorry), very much a slowburn (felix is YEARNING.) hyunjin is also in this fic as an angel. smut cw: loss of virginity, slightly inexperienced felix, unprotected p in v, vanilla af tbh
» wc: 17k
» borders by: here
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felix was there. he was always there, before you even realized it.
life hadn’t been easy for you—that much had been clear for as long as you could remember. your mother walked out of your life when you were only three, and not long after, your father succumbed to liver failure, leaving you orphaned and adrift in a world that seemed designed to crush you. without a family to hold you, to remind you that you mattered, you became just another number in the system, another child shuffled between homes like a piece of lost luggage.
your belongings were carried in a garbage bag, a cruel reminder that you were never meant to stay anywhere long enough to unpack. foster care was supposed to provide a sense of stability, but instead, it felt like a series of cold exchanges, your worth measured in paperwork and stipends.
things took a darker turn when you were placed with your first long-term foster family. at first, you thought the word "long-term" might bring relief—a chance to settle, to belong—but it quickly became a prison sentence. you realized, with bitter clarity, that "long-term" didn’t mean better; it just meant more time to endure. and endure, you did, wishing with every passing day that their home had been just another brief stop on the endless conveyor belt of placements.
the mother was controlling, piling chores onto you to the point where your schoolwork was neglected, causing you to nearly fail your first year of middle school. the father was lazy and critical, spending his evenings in a recliner with a beer in hand, quick to judge but offering no help around the house. unknown to the foster care system or the foster mother, he had a disturbing habit of sneaking into your room at night under the guise of wanting to "cuddle."
it wasn’t until he started trying to undress you that you realized this wasn’t something that was normal between fathers and daughters. 
but yet, you stayed silent. afraid of making them angry. you knew it wasn’t right, what he was doing to you, but they were giving you a home. something you had been wishing for for several years. you didn’t want to pass that up just because some gross dude lifted your nightgown for a measly 5 minutes 3 times a week. 
you stayed in that home for about 2 years until they got tired of you. finally, you were free from that prison.
however, the weight never stopped piling on top of you, the feelings never stopped rising. you didn’t realize it because you were too young, but remembering what that sick fuck did you was enough to leave you nauseous for a few days. you found yourself stuck in your head, constantly feeling his fingertips grazing your inner thigh, his mouth on yours, still smelling the faint odor of alcohol on his breath. 
you hated yourself for letting it slide. for letting him get away with it. you resented yourself for being so fucking afraid all the time. why didn’t you just speak up? why were you so fucking pathetic? the thoughts whirled in your head constantly. 
you had no idea that the flood of dark, tormenting thoughts in your mind was the reason felix came into your life. the first time he truly saved you was when you were just 14.
it was late at night, and you were alone in the bathroom you shared with three other foster girls, each of them sleeping in the room just outside. the door was locked, and your back was pressed against it, the cool wood digging into your skin as tears soaked your cheeks. your fingers trembled as they gripped the little pill bottle in your hand, eyes locked on it as your lip quivered, the weight of the moment almost unbearable. you didn’t know how much longer you could keep going.
everything in you was screaming to stop the noise inside your head, to stop the endless thoughts that tore at your mind. but there was one thing you couldn’t escape—your heart was still beating, and no matter how hard you wished for it to stop, it wouldn’t. so, with a quiet curse, you made up your mind. you were done.
the pills felt like stone as they hit your throat, each one a bitter reminder of everything that was falling apart. you gagged, struggled to swallow, but you forced them down, one after another. you locked yourself in that bathroom, barricading yourself from the world, and for what felt like an eternity, you sat there, on the edge of breaking, hoping for something—anything—to stop the pain.
only for a mere moment was the world quiet around you, the kiss of death just barely brushing your lips..
until something strange happened. it was like the very essence of life itself surged through your body, jolting you upright from where you had been slumped on the cold tile floor. the world spun out of control, and your body betrayed you in the most brutal way—it took everything you had to keep yourself upright as you lurched toward the tub. your stomach heaved violently, the contents of your body fighting against the poison you had just forced in.
sweat dripped down your face as you vomited, shaking uncontrollably, your body a hot mess of fear and desperation. it was a moment of raw panic as you realized, in the haze of your disorientation, that you were still alive. the wave of disappointment hit you like a freight train—how could you still be here? how could it not have worked? you wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment, to fade into nothingness. 
but he was always there.
a couple of years passed, and you were adopted by a family who genuinely cared for you. they said they loved you, and you told yourself you loved them too—or at least, you thought you did. but you could never quite tell if your feelings for others were genuine or just surface-level mimicry. you heard their words of love, but you never felt it in the way people described—the flutter in your chest, the warmth in your stomach.
instead, there was only emptiness.
you had a family that cared, hot meals, a safe home. by all accounts, it should have been enough. so why wasn’t it? why did you feel a persistent ache for something more?
high school offered a temporary escape, at least for a while. you had a knack for finding trouble—running with the wrong crowd, skipping class to get high or spend hours making out with whichever guy you were dating at the time. in those moments, everything felt exhilarating. the thrill of breaking rules filled you with a rush, and being with them made you feel whole, even if only briefly.
but when you were alone, the emptiness crept back in.
in solitude, every thought became louder, every feeling sharper, relentless in their assault. the weight of it all was unbearable. whether you realized it or not, you were slowly self-destructing, losing the spark and vitality that once defined you as a child. this wasn’t the gradual "loss of innocence" that comes with growing up—it had been stolen from you. and instead of clinging to what little remained, you shoved it all away, forcing it into a dark, unrelenting void of pain and regret.
the second time felix saved you was when you were 16. 
it was a night that seemed like any other, until everything changed in an instant. you and your boyfriend had been at a party, the music loud and the laughter even louder, but the night took a turn the moment you got in the car. he had been drinking heavily. you tried to convince him to let someone else drive, but he insisted, too drunk to even form a coherent argument. you told yourself it would be fine—he was your boyfriend, and he promised he was fine to drive.
but it wasn’t fine.
the crash came so suddenly, you didn't even have time to brace yourself. the screech of tires, the sudden force of the impact—everything spun, and then there was silence.
when you opened your eyes again, the world was a blur, the harsh sound of sirens breaking through the ringing in your ears. your body was heavy, and the pain was overwhelming. you couldn’t move your arm, and it felt like you were sinking into the seat, your head throbbing with every heartbeat. you reached for it, fingers trembling, feeling blood dripping from your hairline. 
your trembling hand reached up instinctively, grasping at anything to try and level yourself while twisted in the vehicle, but it ended up brushing against something warm and wet—blood. it was everywhere. at first, you thought it was just yours, but then you looked to your side.
your boyfriend was there, slumped unnaturally in the driver’s seat. his head hung at an angle that made your stomach twist, and his chest didn’t rise. his face, once so familiar and full of life, was pale and lifeless. for a moment, the world stood still as your mind grappled with the impossible reality in front of you.
you called his name, your voice barely more than a croak, but there was no response. the quiet was suffocating. hot tears blurred your vision as panic overtook you. you reached for him, shaking him, begging him to wake up, but it was no use.
the realization hit you like a cold wave, and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process the weight of it. 
at that moment, the pain in your body was nothing compared to the weight in your chest. the boy you thought you’d share so many tomorrows with was gone, and you were left drowning in the wreckage of a life that would never be the same.
it was then that you felt it—the presence of someone, something, familiar but impossible to explain. there was a warmth, a sense of calm in the chaos. the sound of voices in the distance didn’t seem so muffled anymore. you could hear the paramedics, shouting instructions, but you felt... distant, almost like you were floating outside of your own body.
“stay with me,” someone was saying, but it wasn’t the paramedics.
“i’m here. you’re going to be okay,” a deep, yet soft male voice rang. the words weren’t loud, they weren’t even clear, but they were enough to settle you, just enough to make the panic simmer down into something manageable. you had no idea how it got there, but the voice was a tether.
you tried to respond, tried to speak, but your body wasn’t cooperating. the world seemed to shift and swirl again, and then you were in an ambulance, being rushed to the hospital.
the moments after the crash were a blur of bright hospital lights, sterile smells, and the constant beeping of machines around you. 
the doctor had placed you into a medically induced coma due to the amount of drugs and alcohol in your system, as well as your severe brain injury. it took some time for your family to arrive at the hospital, but felix stayed with you. he was by your side the whole time you lay there. 
later on, your eyelids fluttered open, your lashes brushing against the dryness of your skin, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the harsh white light above you. blinking slowly, you tried to clear the fog in your mind, forcing your surroundings into focus. 
beside your bed, there was a chair. empty. the sight of it hit you like a wave of loneliness. your mind raced. had someone been sitting there? had someone been waiting for you to wake up?
before you could let yourself fall into the quiet despair of it, something caught your eye—a flash of movement. at first, you weren’t sure if it was real or just a trick of your disoriented mind, but there it was again. a figure. a blonde figure dressed all in white, moving swiftly past the door and out of the room.
your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. it happened so quickly, you didn’t even have time to process it fully. just a flicker of someone in white, someone you couldn’t place, and then they were gone, disappearing down the hallway like a phantom.
you tried to call out, tried to move, but your body refused to cooperate. you were too weak, too broken, too tethered to the machines that kept you alive. who had that been? was it someone you knew?
but before you could think any more about it, the pain returned, sharp and immediate, and all you could do was close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace. even as your mind raced, as uncertainty flooded you, you couldn’t shake the thoughts, your mind wondering if what you saw was real or just a hallucination from your drugged-up state. 
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felix spent countless hours studying you, observing the subtle ways you shifted in your sleep, the way your body would tense when you were about to face the next wave of agony. he wasn’t supposed to be so emotionally attached, not in the way he found himself. angels were meant to be impartial, neutral—protective, but not emotionally involved. and yet, as time went on, felix found himself more and more drawn to you, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his thoughts turning to you even when he wasn’t near. it was a kind of fascination, but it was also something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.
it always pained felix to watch you struggle. it was his job, of course, as your guardian angel, but that didn’t necessarily mean he liked it. his role was simple, or so it was supposed to be—guide, protect, watch over you—but there were moments when it felt like a weight he could barely carry. watching you hurt, seeing the toll life had taken on you, it gnawed at him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it wasn’t just about keeping you safe; it was about witnessing your inner turmoil, the pain you couldn’t escape, and knowing he could never truly take it away. he could intervene, sure, but only so much.
he became fond of you. at first, it was a quiet awareness—a soft sadness in his chest when he saw your tears, a feeling of helplessness when he couldn’t stop you from making the same painful decisions over and over again. but it grew. he watched how you pushed through your struggles, how you fought to keep living despite everything that weighed you down. there was a quiet strength in you, an undeniable resilience that made him both proud and heartsick.
sometimes, when you were at your lowest, felix would find himself feeling your pain. it wasn’t just an awareness, it was a visceral ache that seemed to pulse through him as if your suffering was his own. and that was strange. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything—least of all the sharp, gut-wrenching pain that you carried with you. angels were above human emotion; they were supposed to observe, not participate. but there it was. he would feel your despair, the weight of your grief, the crushing exhaustion in your heart as if it were his own.
he’d try to push it away, to block it out, but it lingered. it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
after the accident, he had watched you slip into that coma, felt the void of your absence, and during the time you were unconscious, it was like a part of him had gone with you. the pain he felt as you fought to survive, the pull of your fragile life, had him teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar. he wasn’t supposed to care this much. he wasn’t supposed to let himself be moved by your suffering. but he was. and it terrified him.
felix could barely stand it. he was so close, so close to you, but always just out of reach. he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t make you understand that he was there. he had to stay hidden, an invisible force in the shadows. it was one of the many rules he was tasked to follow.
but he was there. and he was watching, as he always did. every time you moved, every time you cried out, his heart cracked just a little more. there were moments when he wished he could reach out, hold you, tell you it would be okay. but he couldn’t. his purpose was to guide you, not to console you the way a person could. and yet, he longed to.
it was strange. it was almost as if, in trying to save you from the darkness, he was losing himself in the process.
he was supposed to help you without complications. but oh boy, did it become complicated. 
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“why do you seem down?” hyunjin asked felix, his shoes clacking against the marble floor of felix’s room. felix lay on his sofa, deep in thought. it took him a few seconds to finally answer. “she’s not doing well again,” he said lowly, the sound of sadness apparent in his tone. hyunjin walked over and sat next to him, letting out a soft sigh. “the same stuff?” he asked, referring to your depression. 
felix just hummed in response and nodded, laying his head back down as he stared off into space. “i can't do anything to help her.” he muttered eventually, disappointment in his tone. 
hyunjin studied felix quietly, his own expression a mixture of concern and confusion. angels weren’t supposed to form such deep attachments. they were guides, protectors—meant to observe and intervene only when absolutely necessary. but felix... felix was different.
"you care about her more than any angel i’ve ever seen care for their human," hyunjin said softly, his voice tinged with a cautious curiosity. "it’s not... wrong, exactly, but it’s not normal either."
felix didn’t respond right away. his gaze was distant, locked somewhere far beyond the room they were in. finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper."she’s been through so much, hyunjin. more than anyone should ever have to endure. and she keeps going, even when it feels like the world is crushing her. but it’s wearing her down. i can see it in her eyes, hear it in her thoughts."
hyunjin frowned, leaning back on the sofa. "you’ve saved her before. more than once. isn’t that enough? isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? intervene when necessary and then... let go?"
felix sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "let go? how can i let go when every time i turn my back, she’s falling deeper into the darkness? i can feel her pain, hyunjin. it’s like it’s… carved into my being."
hyunjin tilted his head, watching his friend carefully. "you’re more human than you think, felix," he said quietly, almost to himself.
felix’s head snapped toward him, his expression a mix of surprise and defiance. "what’s that supposed to mean?"
"it means," hyunjin continued calmly, "that maybe you care so deeply because you understand her in a way most angels don’t. you don’t just see her struggles—you feel them. that connection... it’s rare, felix. but it’s also dangerous."
felix looked away, his jaw tightening. he knew hyunjin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. "i just want her to be happy," he said finally, his voice breaking slightly. "i don’t care if it’s dangerous or rare or whatever else you want to call it. i just can’t stand to see her like this."
hyunjin reached out, placing a hand on felix’s shoulder. "maybe it’s time to think about what she really needs. sometimes, saving someone doesn’t mean fixing everything for them. it means being there, quietly, in the background, until they find their own strength."
felix sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of hyunjin’s words. he didn’t know if he could do that—if he could stand by and watch you struggle, hoping you’d pull through on your own. he had been waiting several years for this, for you to come to, for you to get better. it didn’t seem achievable because of how much you were obviously hurting still. 
but deep down, he knew hyunjin had a point.
all he could do was stay close and hope his presence, even unseen, would make a difference.
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a few more months passed, and felix found himself at his breaking point. watching you spiral further into despair was more than he could bear. he had always been bound by the sacred rules of his kind. yet, with every passing day, those rules felt like chains, holding him back from giving you the comfort and hope you so desperately needed.
he began to push the boundaries, leaving subtle signs of his presence. a faint warmth brushing your skin during your loneliest nights, the sudden scent of vanilla randomly wafting through your room–his signature scent.. or the soft flutter of a breeze indoors when no windows were open. felix hoped these tiny gestures would remind you that you weren’t alone, that someone was watching over you. sometimes you’d swear you’d wake up in the middle of the night, feeling eyes on you in your bedroom.
but he knew he was treading dangerous ground. revealing himself to the living, even indirectly, was a direct violation of celestial law. angels were forbidden from crossing into the mortal plane unless absolutely necessary—and certainly not for personal reasons. every time he bent the rules, felix felt the weight of disapproval from the higher realms, but he didn’t care.
all he cared about was you.
eventually, felix realized that his subtle gestures weren’t enough to ease your suffering. the flickers of warmth, the faint scents, and the soft breezes weren’t making the impact he hoped for. so, he made the decision to go further, breaking the rules more boldly than ever before.
what started as occasional visits to watch over you as you slept turned into a nightly ritual. every night, without fail, felix would enter your room, his presence unseen, and settle himself beside you on the bed. he would sit propped against the headboard, his fingers brushing gently through your hair in soothing strokes. this was the only time he saw you truly at peace—your expression free of the sadness that weighed you down during your waking hours. your mind was finally quiet, your face soft and serene, and seeing you like this brought felix a strange sense of solace.
he didn’t feel out of place lying beside you. on the contrary, it comforted him to know that, even if you couldn’t feel his presence, he was there for you during your most vulnerable moments. but simply being there wasn’t enough for him. he wanted you to know you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t understand the source.
so, he started leaving a single white rose in your apartment, always in a spot he knew you’d notice. the first time you found one, you panicked. your thoughts immediately jumped to the idea of a stalker. it would explain the strange sensation you sometimes felt while sleeping, as though someone was watching over you. but no one had a key to your apartment, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced a spare. there were no signs of forced entry, no broken locks or jimmied windows. and living on the tenth floor of a building without a balcony made the idea of anyone sneaking in seem impossible.
yet, every wednesday, like clockwork, the roses appeared. each time you came home from work, you found one waiting for you—sometimes placed carefully on your pillow, other times resting on the kitchen counter where you always dropped your keys.
the mystery of the roses consumed your thoughts. you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched, but at the same time, something about the gesture felt... kind. even as the fear lingered, you couldn’t deny the strange comfort the flowers brought, like a small, silent promise that someone cared. 
you’d sit for hours, turning the possibilities over and over in your mind, desperate for an explanation. the only theory that felt remotely plausible was that it might be a deceased family member—perhaps your father—reaching out to you from beyond. maybe he was watching over you, leaving these gifts as a sign of his presence.
but even that felt like a stretch. you’d never been one to believe in the supernatural. ghosts, spirits, angels—it all seemed too far-fetched. yet, the roses told a different story. they appeared in your locked apartment without any logical explanation, and the sheer impossibility of it all began to chip away at your skepticism.
the more you thought about it, the more your disbelief wavered. you still couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept the idea of something otherworldly, but a small part of you began to wonder: what if there was more to this world than you’d always believed?
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it wasn’t until a little later into your adulthood that felix fell for you. he fell for you in a way that was more than he ever thought possible, a deep, unshakable kind of love that bloomed quietly in the recesses of his heart. it wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, inevitable tide, creeping up on him as he spent day after day watching over you, silently observing the subtle shifts in your life, the quiet struggles you faced, and the moments of fleeting joy that seemed to light up your world in spite of it all.
the more he watched you, the more deeply he felt connected to you. he could see the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and pain, and how you carried your burdens with such quiet strength. he admired your resilience, but it tore at him too. each time he saw you frown in frustration or collapse into exhaustion after a long day, it felt like a jagged piece of glass scraping against his soul. the desire to be close to you—to be there for you—burned inside him like wildfire, something so powerful and raw, he couldn’t contain it.
felix found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. he watched you laugh with your friends, saw you comfort a stranger, witnessed the quiet moments when you thought no one cared. and in every one of those moments, his heart ached. it ached because he longed to be the one to make you smile, to ease the weight on your shoulders, to tell you that he understood in ways no one else could. he wanted to be the one who held you when the world felt too heavy, who whispered comforting words when you couldn’t find any of your own.
he wanted—no, needed—to talk to you. to introduce himself, to somehow, impossibly, let you know that he knew you better than anyone else ever could. he knew your scars, your fears, your dreams. he had watched you grow, silently and from a distance, always just out of reach. and every part of him screamed to speak, to tell you everything he had seen and felt as he quietly admired the person you had become. every thought he had about you, every observation, every small detail, every fleeting moment, was carved into his soul.
but as much as he wanted that, he knew he couldn’t. he wasn’t supposed to be here, to be seen by you. he was bound by laws that held him away, that kept him a silent observer, a watcher in the dark. his love for you—his desperate, consuming love for you—was forbidden. and yet, it consumed him more than anything else. he ached with the overwhelming need to be near you, to somehow make you feel what he felt, to break the invisible barrier that kept him at arm’s length.
felix would continue to visit at night, his form hidden in the shadows of your room, listening to your breathing, watching your peaceful face as you slept. he would run his fingers through your hair, wishing he could tell you everything. he would hold his breath, praying you would stir, that maybe, just maybe, you would feel him there, his presence lingering like a soft touch, a whispered promise. the thought that you might never know how deeply he loved you—it was unbearable.
felix wanted so badly to be noticed, to have you turn and see him. he wanted you to know, not just that he existed, but that he had been there all along, watching over you, loving you from afar. he wasn’t some fleeting presence, some passing moment. he was here. he had always been here. and all he wanted was for you to know that.
god, he loved you so fucking much. in a way that was all-consuming, in a way that made every moment of separation feel like a quiet ache in the deepest parts of him. he loved you in a way that was both impossible and undeniable. and it terrified him, because he knew he could never have you—not truly. he could only watch. and in doing so, he was bound by something even greater than the laws that kept him from you. he was bound by the love he could never express, the feelings he could never act upon.
and that was the cruelest part of it all—he loved you more than anything, but he could never truly have you.
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felix leaned against the door of his home in the astral plane, his body feeling as though it was made of stone, weighed down by the crushing pressure of what had just transpired. his mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, still reeling from the conversation he had mere moments ago. the higher realms had caught on to his increasingly reckless behavior. he had always known there would be consequences, but hearing the words from the voices of the celestial council made the reality of it all hit him like a bolt of lightning.
a warning, they had said. a warning that if he continued this way—if he kept breaking laws, bending the rules, and daring to reveal himself to the mortal world—he would be cast out. disowned. stripped of everything he had ever known. his immortality would be taken from him, and the wings that had always been a part of him, the wings that had given him his identity, would be severed. he would be cast into the human world, forced to live among those he had been forbidden to touch, to exist as one of them—fragile, finite, and utterly alone.
felix’s chest tightened as the weight of their decree settled over him. he was horrified, and in the pit of his stomach, he felt a deep, aching sense of loss. the thought of being cast down, of losing the eternity that had once defined him, gnawed at him. he had existed for so long in the celestial realms, watching over worlds, knowing his place, and now that place felt as though it was slipping away from him, just as quickly as his heart had fallen for you.
he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want to stop visiting you, to stop offering you the comfort he could give from the shadows. the mere thought of no longer being able to watch you, no longer being able to quietly support you from the distance he had grown to cherish, felt like an ache so deep, it was like his very soul had been torn in two.
but at the same time, felix was terrified. terrified of what it would mean if he allowed himself to follow this path, if he let his emotions run wild, if he dared to embrace this connection he had with you. to lose his place among the celestial beings, to lose the very essence of who he was, the very reason he existed—it was too much to bear.
he closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the door as though it might anchor him in the reality he so desperately wanted to hold onto. his heart raced, torn between two worlds—his love for you, and the celestial duty that had once defined his every action. the love he felt for you was dangerous, forbidden, but it was real. the kind of love that carved deep into his chest, raw and desperate, a love that made him question everything he had ever known about his purpose. but was it worth losing everything? was it worth abandoning the very thing that had given his life meaning—his immortality, his place among the divine?
felix didn’t know. he didn’t know if he could make that choice.
all he knew was that the fear of losing you—of being cast away, disowned—was as terrifying as the thought of losing himself.
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felix found a small measure of peace when you started dating someone—a coworker named minho. though it pained him to see you with someone else, the thought of minho being there for you when felix couldn’t brought him some comfort. from what felix observed, minho was kind and attentive, and that was enough to keep felix at ease, even if it hurt to stay in the background.
still, felix couldn’t bring himself to leave entirely. he continued to watch over you, always vigilant, ensuring that minho treated you the way you deserved. 
but something shifted in your world, something that didn’t escape your notice. once minho entered your life, the roses stopped appearing in your apartment. at first, you didn’t think much of it, but as the weeks went by without a single flower, a strange pang of disappointment settled in your chest.
you hadn’t realized how much you’d grown attached to the mysterious gifts until they were gone. you had even gone out of your way to display them in a vase, replacing the wilted roses with fresh ones every week, as if honoring the unseen hand that left them. the absence felt odd, almost unsettling.
it didn’t take long for the thought to creep back into your mind: what if it really had been a stalker? but you dismissed it just as quickly as it came. there were no signs of forced entry, no evidence to support the idea. and besides, minho was with you now. if something truly dangerous were happening, surely he would have noticed too.
still, the timing nagged at you. the roses had stopped the moment minho came into your life. was it just a coincidence, or was there more to it? you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d lost something special—something silent and unseen, but deeply meaningful.
as your relationship with minho deepened, felix began to notice troubling changes in his behavior. at first, it was subtle—offhand remarks about the way you did things or minor criticisms disguised as jokes. but over time, those comments grew sharper, more frequent, and far harder to ignore. minho started nitpicking every little thing you did, blaming you for even the smallest mistakes, and turning minor missteps into significant issues.
it didn’t take long for felix to piece together the truth: minho was a narcissist, and worse, an abusive one. his behavior escalated rapidly. the once seemingly harmless complaints turned into outright yelling. he began getting in your face during arguments, his voice laced with venom, his demeanor intimidating. felix watched helplessly as minho’s anger grew darker, his threats becoming more pointed.
the shift terrified felix. there were moments when minho’s fury burned so hot that felix feared he might follow through on his threats. each time minho’s hand twitched or his voice reached a dangerous pitch, felix braced himself, sick with worry that this time, it wouldn’t stop at words.
countless nights, felix lingered nearby, his unseen presence heavy with fear and frustration. the thought of you being seriously hurt haunted him. despite his duty to remain in the background, every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, to shield you from the storm brewing in your own home. 
as your relationship with minho continued and his behavior spiraled further into toxicity, you began to notice something strange: the inexplicable occurrences in your apartment had returned. the faint, sweet scent of vanilla began lingering in the air once more, subtle yet unmistakable. it crept into your senses at odd times, reminding you of a feeling you hadn’t experienced in months.
even more unsettling was the distinct sensation of being watched while you slept—something you’d felt before but had long since faded when minho entered your life. it was subtle at first, a gentle prickling at the back of your neck or the softest shift in the room’s energy. unlike most people, who might have been terrified by the idea of an unseen presence in their home, you felt an odd sense of comfort.
this wasn’t the unease of being stalked or the fear of danger. it was familiar, almost nostalgic, as though the presence itself carried a quiet reassurance. it reminded you of nights when you used to feel a strange sort of peace in your solitude, a solace that had seemed to vanish when minho came into your life.
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you came home late wednesday night to find minho sitting at the kitchen island, his posture rigid and his expression already clouded with annoyance and barely concealed anger. you sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for yet another confrontation and wondering what you could have possibly done this time to provoke his ire.
before you could speak, your eyes fell on the white rose lying on the counter in front of him. your breath hitched, and your heartbeat quickened as unease settled deep in your chest. you had a feeling you knew exactly where this was going, but you forced yourself to play dumb, hoping to defuse whatever storm was brewing.
“what’s that?” you asked cautiously, your gaze darting between the rose and minho’s piercing glare.
he let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head to meet your eyes. “you’re asking me?” he said, his voice calm but laced with an edge that sent chills down your spine.
you swallowed hard, struggling to steady your hands as you fidgeted with your fingers. “i don’t know. i didn’t—”
“come on, y/n,” he interrupted, his tone dripping with condescension. “i’m not stupid. i didn’t give this to you, so who did?” his voice was eerily calm, but his expression betrayed his barely contained fury, which was far more unsettling than when he was openly yelling.
“i-i don’t know, i swear,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for any sign of reason.
minho’s jaw tightened, and his fist slammed against the counter, the sharp sound making you flinch. he stood abruptly, towering over you as his eyes narrowed. “bullshit. you got it from a guy. who is he? do i know him?”
“no, minho! i haven’t talked to any guys today!” you cried, your voice rising in desperation as your body began to shake.
“you’re lying,” he hissed, his gaze unwavering and his presence suffocating. he reached for the rose, running his fingers along the delicate petals as though mocking its fragility.
“i’m not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
minho studied you for a moment, the silence stretching into something unbearable. then, with a sudden burst of violence, he clenched the rose in his fist, ripping the petals from the stem and scattering them across the counter. “clean this shit up. i don’t want to see any more flowers around here,” he snarled before shoving past you and storming toward the hallway.
something inside you snapped. “no,” you said firmly, the word escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.
minho froze mid-step, turning slowly to face you with a mixture of shock and fury. “what did you just say?” he asked, his tone low and dangerous.
“i said no,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the fear twisting in your stomach. you stood your ground, glaring at him with a defiance you didn’t know you possessed.
his surprise faded quickly, replaced by a dark, menacing rage. in an instant, he closed the distance between you, raising his hand and striking you across the face. the sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room, and the sting of his palm seared into your cheek.
before you could even process the pain, a loud crash shattered the tense silence. both of you turned toward the counter, where shards of glass from the vase that once held your white roses lay scattered. the vase had shattered violently, though neither you nor minho had touched it, and you were both too far away for it to have been accidental.
minho stared at the broken glass, his face contorting in confusion and unease. for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his eyes—fear. and for a brief moment, it felt like the air in the room had shifted, heavy with something unexplainable, something beyond either of your control. 
“get the fuck out,” you spat, your voice trembling with both rage and sorrow as you shoved minho away from you. your lip quivered, and your heart pounded in your chest. he stumbled backward, his usual composure shattered as he stammered, trying to piece together words to defend himself.
“out!” you screamed, your voice breaking as tears began streaming uncontrollably down your face. you clutched your stinging cheek with one hand, the pain of his slap mingling with the ache in your chest.
minho hesitated, his face flickering with disbelief and hesitation, but eventually, he relented. grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his things and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through your apartment.
the silence that followed was suffocating, oppressive in its stillness. you stood frozen for a moment, staring at the broken glass scattered across your kitchen floor. your legs gave out beneath you, and you plopped onto the cold tile, your back pressed against the refrigerator as a sob wracked through your body.
you cried harder than you had in months, your tears falling freely as every ounce of frustration, anger, and pain came pouring out. you were furious—with minho, with yourself, with the cycle you seemed unable to break. why had you let it get this far? why did you allow another man to mistreat you, just because you were terrified of being alone again?
the realization cut deeply, leaving you raw and exposed. you told yourself then and there that you were done. done with minho, done with letting people like him have power over you. and this time, you meant it.
true to your resolve, minho didn’t bother you again. after a week of silence, it was clear that he wasn’t coming back, and for that, you were relieved. but relief didn’t erase the damage he had done.
in the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself slipping back into the darkness you thought you had left behind. nights were the hardest. some, you spent curled up in bed, crying until exhaustion finally claimed you. others, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as the all-too-familiar numbness crept over you, settling into your chest like an unwelcome guest.
the emptiness was back, deeper and more consuming than ever. it felt like your heart was a hollow shell, incapable of feeling anything but the ache of its own vacancy. and as the days blurred into weeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you were destined for—cycles of pain, brief reprieves, and an ever-present void you could never seem to fill. 
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one night, as you drifted off to sleep, your dream took an unusual turn. in the depths of slumber, you saw flashes of golden blonde hair and a face so captivating it felt almost otherworldly. he had plump, soft lips, a delicate button nose, and a constellation of freckles scattered across his skin. his presence was magnetic, his beauty striking yet gentle.
at first, the dream was fleeting—a quick glimpse of him before the scene shifted into the usual randomness of your subconscious. but as the nights went on, he began appearing more frequently. his visits weren’t long, just brief moments where you saw his face, a sense of comfort and calm washing over you before he would vanish again into the recesses of your mind.
though you never spoke to him, you could feel him there. his presence was undeniable, and oddly familiar, as though you knew him from somewhere. the more you dreamed of him, the more he felt like a guardian, someone watching over you from the shadows.
what you didn’t realize was that this wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. it was felix. after weeks of struggling to find ways to be closer to you without breaking the celestial rules, he decided to take a different approach.
he was hesitant at first, unsure if entering your dreams would be too bold, too much of a risk. but he couldn’t stay away. the idea of reaching you in this subtle, intangible way felt like the perfect compromise—a chance to be near you without disrupting the delicate balance of your reality.
so, he appeared to you in fragments, carefully choosing each moment. the dreams were his way of offering comfort, a gentle reminder of his presence, even if you couldn’t fully understand what it meant yet. to felix, it was enough to know he was there for you, even if only in the quiet hours of the night.
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the dream started like many others—hazy and indistinct, with colors blending together in a soft, swirling mist. you were standing in a field bathed in moonlight, the grass cool beneath your bare feet. a gentle breeze carried the scent of vanilla, a fragrance that had lingered faintly in your waking hours.
and then, you saw him.
he emerged from the mist like a figure out of a painting, his golden hair glowing faintly in the silver light. his face, with its constellation of freckles and gentle, piercing eyes, was heartbreakingly beautiful. he stopped a few paces away, his gaze locked on yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken—something familiar yet strange.
"who are you?" you asked finally, your voice trembling as if afraid to break the spell. his lips curled into a soft smile, and he tilted his head slightly. "you already know me," he said, his voice like a melody, soothing and warm. your brows knitted together, confusion flickering across your face. "i don’t think i do."
"you’ve felt me," he said gently, taking a cautious step closer. "in the quiet moments. when you’ve been at your lowest. i’ve been there." the realization hit you like a wave, a shiver running down your spine. "the roses..."
he nodded, his expression tender yet tinged with sadness. "i didn’t mean to frighten you. i only wanted you to know you weren’t alone."
"but why? why me?" you whispered, a lump forming in your throat.
his gaze softened further, and he crouched slightly to meet your eyes more closely. "because i care about you more than you’ll ever know. i’ve watched over you, protected you, even when you didn’t know i was there." 
your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "are you... an angel?"
felix hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "yes. and breaking every rule to talk to you like this."
"why now?"
"because i can’t bear to see you in pain anymore," he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "you’ve been through so much, and i... i couldn’t stay silent any longer."
tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. he didn’t pull away, but you hesitated, your fingers hovering just above his. "this doesn’t feel real," you murmured.
"but it is," he assured you, his voice firm yet gentle. "i’ll be here as long as you need me, whether you see me or not."
the dream began to blur around the edges, the mist creeping back in. "wait," you pleaded, your voice tinged with desperation. "will i see you again?"
felix smiled softly, his golden hair shimmering in the fading light. "always."
and then he was gone, leaving only his signature scent and the lingering warmth of his presence behind as you woke, tears still fresh on your cheeks. 
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“you did what?” hyunjin asked felix, surprise evident on his expression. felix bit the inside of his cheek before he quietly repeated himself. “i.. visited her in her dream.” he mumbled. 
hyunjin stared at felix, his eyes wide as he leaned against the railing of their astral plane. the soft glow of their surroundings illuminated the disbelief on his face. "you visited her in her dream," he repeated slowly, as if trying to process the gravity of felix's words.
felix nodded, looking away. "i couldn’t just watch her suffer anymore. she needed to know she wasn’t alone."
hyunjin ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a sharp exhale. "do you have any idea how reckless that was? visiting the living in their dreams might not be as bad as full manifestation, but it’s still breaking the rules."
felix’s gaze hardened, his usual softness replaced with a rare defiance. "i don’t care about the rules anymore, hyunjin. they don’t help her. she’s falling apart, and i can’t just stand by and do nothing."
hyunjin crossed his arms, his expression shifting from surprise to concern. "i get it, felix, i do. but you’ve been walking a thin line for a while now. leaving roses, lingering in her presence... do you really think the higher-ups won’t notice?"
felix clenched his fists at his sides. "let them notice. let them punish me if they want. but i won’t regret it. not for her."
hyunjin softened at felix's conviction, his features losing their edge. "you really care about her, don’t you?"
felix’s eyes glistened as he nodded. "more than anything. she’s been through so much, hyunjin. no one deserves that kind of pain. if i can be the one thing that brings her some comfort, i’ll take any punishment that comes my way."
hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "you’re not going to stop, are you?"
"no," felix said firmly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.
there was a moment of silence as hyunjin studied his friend, his lips pressed into a thin line. finally, he relented with a small shake of his head. "alright. if you’re going to keep doing this, at least let me help you cover your tracks. if they find out what you’re doing, it won’t just be a slap on the wrist, felix. it’ll be exile—or worse."
felix’s eyes widened in surprise, gratitude quickly replacing the shock. "hyunjin, you don’t have to—"
"i know i don’t have to," hyunjin interrupted, his tone sharp. "but you’re my friend, and i’m not about to let you face this alone."
felix smiled faintly, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter. "thank you."
hyunjin sighed again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "don’t thank me yet. i’m not sure what kind of mess we’re getting into, but i have a feeling it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better."
felix’s smile didn’t waver. "it’ll be worth it."
hyunjin shook his head with a wry smile, muttering under his breath. "you’re hopeless."
but despite his grumbling, he didn’t leave felix’s side. if felix was going to fight for you, hyunjin would make sure he didn’t do it alone.
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the dreams for the next few nights unfolded as they always had—flickers of unspoken moments and hazy images that faded like sand slipping through your fingers. but this night was different.
the air around you shifted as the dream took form. you were no longer in a familiar place but somewhere entirely foreign and breathtaking. marble floors stretched endlessly beneath your bare feet, their white, polished surface reflecting soft, golden light from above. the room seemed to glow, not harshly, but with a serene brightness that made you feel weightless.
and then there was the scent—vanilla, rich and warm, filling the air like an embrace. it washed over you, soothing every frayed nerve and quieting the lingering chaos in your mind.
before you could fully process the setting, he appeared.
felix stepped out of the light as though it had created him, his form entirely whole this time. his white tunic draped elegantly over his lean frame, the fabric flowing as if it were alive. his blonde hair, wavy and radiant, seemed to catch the ambient glow, each strand moving with an ethereal lightness. but it was his face—those delicate features, framed by a constellation of freckles, and eyes that held galaxies—that truly caught your breath.
you couldn’t look away.
the space between you and felix was vast, yet he began to close the distance, his steps slow and deliberate, as though each one was meant to reassure you. his gaze, warm and unwavering, never left yours.
your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a mix of confusion, awe, and an unexplainable comfort. "you’re back," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a strange relief.
felix’s lips curved into a gentle smile, and as he stopped a few feet away, his presence felt like the missing piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve.
"i promised i would be," he said softly, his voice carrying the same calming warmth as the vanilla in the air.
the marble beneath your feet felt cool, grounding you as you tried to steady your breathing. "where are we? what is this place?"
felix glanced around, his expression serene yet thoughtful. "a reflection of the in-between. it’s not quite your world, not quite mine."
you frowned slightly, tilting your head. "why are we here?"
his gaze softened further, and he took another cautious step toward you, his hands loosely clasped in front of him. "because. i needed to see you again."
your breath hitched, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the dreamlike quality of the moment. "this feels... so real," you murmured, reaching out instinctively, though you stopped short of touching him.
"it is," felix replied, his voice a quiet assurance. "as real as it can be."
you hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. it was so close, yet it felt like reaching for something impossibly distant. your heart raced as you extended your trembling hand toward him once more.
“can i... touch you?” you asked again, your voice quieter this time, as if afraid he might vanish if you spoke too loudly.
felix’s expression softened further, his lips curving into a smile so warm it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm. “you can,” he said, his voice gentle, almost reverent.
you reached out, and when your fingers met his, a jolt of warmth spread through you like ripples in still water. his skin wasn’t just soft—it was otherworldly, as if every molecule hummed with energy, radiating life and something deeper, something unnameable.
you gasped softly at the sensation, your fingertips brushing along the back of his hand. “it’s like… you’re made of light,” you murmured, your voice filled with awe.
felix chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “in a way, i suppose i am,” he replied, his thumb lightly brushing against your knuckles. “but what matters is that i’m here. with you.”
the weight of his words hit you, and your breath caught in your throat. you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for answers. “why are you doing this?”
his expression became more serious, though his touch remained tender. “because you deserve to feel loved, to feel cared for. you’ve been carrying so much for so long, and i couldn’t stand to see you bear it alone.”
your lips quivered, and tears began to well in your eyes. you fought them back, but the sheer kindness in his words made it impossible. “i don’t understand,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “why me? i’m nobody special.”
felix’s dark eyes softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his presence as overwhelming as it was comforting. “you are special,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “you’ve survived so much, endured what most wouldn’t. you have a strength you don’t even realize.”
the tears spilled over then, and he reached out to gently brush them away, his touch featherlight. “you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he said, his voice a vow. “i’m here. for as long as you’ll let me be.”
you stared at him, your heart swelling with emotions you hadn’t felt in years. gratitude. hope. maybe even something more.
but before you could speak, the dream began to shift, the bright marble surroundings fading into soft mist. you panicked, reaching for him as the world around you dissolved.
“felix, wait—don’t go!” you cried, desperation in your voice.
he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made the fading dream still for a moment. “i’m never far,” he promised, his voice steady and unshakable. “call for me, and i’ll come.”
and then he was gone.  you woke up clutching your hand to your chest, as if trying to hold onto the feeling of him for just a little longer.
the memory of his words and his touch stayed with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.
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you found yourself spending more and more time with felix in your dreams, sharing conversations that ranged from the mundane to the profound. each night felt like peeling back another layer of his essence, and the bond between you deepened in ways you never imagined possible. he spoke to you with a sincerity that left you feeling safe and cherished, sharing stories of his watchful presence over the years, recounting moments when he had intervened in unseen ways to keep you safe. the weight of knowing just how much he had done for you was both humbling and overwhelming.
the concept of a guardian angel was still difficult for you to wrap your mind around—an ethereal being solely dedicated to protecting you. but even harder to believe was the fact that felix was yours. all yours.
felix never outright told you how much he cared for you, though you began to sense it in the way his gaze lingered, in the warmth of his words, and in the gentle way he reached out to comfort you. he held himself back, aware of your past pain, and was careful to move at a pace that respected your healing. he wanted to be patient, to give you all the time you needed, even as his feelings for you grew with each passing moment.
what he didn’t know was that you were falling for him just as quickly. the connection between you felt as natural as breathing, as though the universe itself had woven your fates together. the once-dreamlike visits began to feel more vivid and tangible, as if the line between the dream world and reality was slowly blurring.
by the time a month had passed, seeing him each night had become as natural as the sun setting. you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would drift off to sleep, knowing he would be there waiting for you, his presence offering you a kind of solace you hadn’t felt in years. it was no longer just a dream; it was a sanctuary. a place where you could be yourself, free from judgment, and bask in the warmth of someone who truly cared.
of course, it didn’t last. how could it? luck had never been on your side, and this fleeting comfort seemed no different. without warning, felix was gone. the dreams you once eagerly anticipated were now nothing but empty darkness, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed, haunted by the void his absence created. you replayed your last conversation over and over in your mind, searching for any clue, any indication of what might have gone wrong. everything had seemed so normal—he was attentive, warm, and genuinely happy to be with you. there was no sign that anything was amiss.
the silence left you with nothing but questions. had you said something to offend him? had he grown tired of you? the thought gnawed at you, stirring feelings of abandonment and self-doubt. yet, what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that felix hadn’t chosen to leave. felix had gotten into trouble. big trouble.
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far away from the sanctuary of your dreams, felix stood before the higher celestial realms, his head bowed in silent shame. the luminous expanse was unlike anything mortal eyes could comprehend—a vast court of blinding light, with entities of immeasurable power seated upon towering thrones of radiant energy. their voices were neither spoken nor heard but resonated directly within his being, each word a vibration that seemed to shake the very fabric of his existence.
“you have broken our most sacred laws, felix,” the central figure intoned, its voice a perfect balance of wrath and sorrow. “angels are not to reveal themselves to the living. and yet, you have not only shown yourself—you have formed a connection.”
felix clenched his fists at his sides, his golden head still lowered. “i couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer anymore,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the gravity of his situation. “she needed me. she needed someone.”
the entity’s light flared brighter, casting long shadows that seemed to pull at felix’s very essence. “your intentions may have been pure, but your actions were reckless. you risked exposing our realm to the mortal plane and disrupted the natural order.”
another voice, colder and sharper, chimed in. “you allowed emotion to cloud your duty. this is not love; it is folly. and now, you must face the consequences of your defiance.”
felix finally lifted his head, his freckled face set with quiet determination. “if loving her is a crime, then i will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary. but i don’t regret what i’ve done. she was alone in a way no one should ever have to be.”
the celestial beings exchanged glances, their forms shifting and flickering with the intensity of their deliberation. finally, the central figure spoke again, its tone heavy with finality. “felix, you are hereby stripped of your ability to interact with her. you will be confined to the astral plane, unable to enter her dreams or manifest in her presence. should you attempt to defy this order, the consequences will be irrevocable.”
the words struck him like a physical blow, and felix staggered, his heart aching with the weight of his punishment. to be kept away from you, to be forced to watch your pain from a distance without being able to comfort you—yet again–it was torment.
but there was nothing he could do. with a final flash of light, the court dissolved, and felix was left alone in the vast, endless expanse of the astral plane, his physical connection to you severed.
back in your world, you sat on your bed, staring at the clock as tears streamed down your face. the weight of his absence was unbearable, a silent ache that pressed against your chest. you whispered his name into the dark, hoping against hope that he could hear you, not knowing that he was out there, whispering your name too.
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felix could still watch over you, still fulfill his celestial duties to keep you safe, but it wasn’t the same. something had shifted—an invisible barrier now confined him to the most basic of his responsibilities. no longer could he visit your dreams or stand by your side as you slept, even if you couldn’t see him. it tore at him. every part of him yearned to return, to let you know he was still there, to reassure you in the way only he could.
he could feel the ache of your unanswered questions, the way you were consumed by his sudden absence. you were falling deeper into a loneliness that clawed at your soul, a loneliness that made his punishment feel like a knife twisting in his chest. he knew you were hurting in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time, and the knowledge that he was the cause—however unintended—made it all the more unbearable.
winter came, and with it, you began to fade. the heavy, suffocating emptiness seeped back into your life, wrapping itself around you like a cold, unrelenting fog. your appetite vanished, and the simplest tasks became insurmountable. you stopped answering texts, ignoring calls from friends you hadn’t spoken to in weeks—some in months. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
nothing mattered anymore because nothing could fill the void felix had left. you tried, briefly, to shake the feeling, but no one could make you feel the way he did. felix had ruined you for anyone else, his presence so uniquely comforting and irreplaceable that his absence felt like a gaping wound.
felix watched helplessly, his golden light dimmer than it had ever been. he saw the way your energy drained, the light in your eyes fading. he knew he was the one thing that could pull you out of this darkness, and yet, he was forbidden from reaching you. he spent countless moments wrestling with his own helplessness, the longing to be with you tearing him apart.
in the nights that followed, as you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling with tear-streaked cheeks, he whispered your name softly into the void, desperate for you to hear, even if he knew it was impossible. all he could do was hope.
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the dark feelings were relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering venomous lies that you couldn’t escape. for months, they lingered, festering in the absence of light. no friends, no family, no felix—just you and the unyielding barrage of your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, to push forward, but the weight of it all was suffocating.
one cold winter night, as the world outside lay silent under a blanket of snow, you sat at the edge of your bed, staring at the empty room around you. the loneliness felt louder than any noise could. enough was enough, you thought. the hollow ache in your chest felt unbearable, and you saw no way out.
you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, your hands trembling as you began to write. words spilled out, raw and unfiltered—apologies to those you thought might care, explanations for your decision, and an overwhelming sense of defeat. the letter wasn’t long; it didn’t need to be. when you finished, you folded it neatly and placed it on your nightstand.
the pills sat in the cabinet for months, untouched but always there. you retrieved them now, your breath shaky as you poured them into your palm. one by one, they gleamed under the dim light of your bedside lamp, little capsules of finality. you clutched them tightly, tears slipping down your face, mingling with the numbness that had overtaken you.
but just as you raised your hand, the room shifted. the light flickered, a sudden gust of vanilla-scented air brushing against your skin. it was so sudden and so familiar that your hand froze. the bottle slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor, pills scattering across the wooden boards.
and then you saw him.
felix stood before you, his form shimmering like an ethereal beacon against the darkness. his golden hair glowed faintly, his freckled face etched with desperation and anguish. he looked at you, and for a moment, you could see the pain in his eyes—a reflection of your own.
“don’t,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “please don’t.”
your breath hitched as you stared at him, unsure if he was real or just another cruel trick of your mind. “you… you left me,” you choked out, tears streaming freely now. “i thought you were gone forever.”
“i didn’t want to go,” felix said, stepping closer, his presence radiating warmth. “they made me. but i couldn’t stay away anymore. i  can’t lose you.”
you felt his hands, warm and soft, cupping your trembling ones. the faint buzz of energy that accompanied his touch was a reminder of the bond you shared. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with guilt. “i failed you.”
“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you didn’t. i just… i can’t do this anymore, felix. i can’t keep feeling like this.”
“you’re not alone,” he said firmly, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “you never were, and you never will be. i’ll fight for you, even if it costs me everything. but you have to promise me something.”
“what?” you asked, your voice barely audible.
“promise me you’ll hold on,” he said, his hands tightening slightly around yours. “even when it’s hard, even when it feels impossible. i’ll be here. i’ll always find a way to be here.” 
the intensity of his words wrapped around you like a lifeline. for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope pierced through the suffocating darkness. you nodded, tears spilling as you whispered, “i promise.” felix pulled you into his arms, his embrace warm and grounding. for a moment, time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was that he was here.
felix’s comfort only lasted a fleeting moment. his golden eyes, filled with relief as he cradled your face, suddenly clouded with pain. his expression twisted, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees beside your bed. his hands clutched at his chest as if trying to hold something unseen together, his gasps turning into strangled cries.
"felix?" you called out, panic lacing your voice as you knelt beside him, your hand pressing firmly against his trembling shoulder. the warmth of his skin beneath your touch felt fleeting, fragile, like it was slipping away. "what’s happening? tell me!"
he tried to speak, his lips parting, but no words came. instead, he groaned, his body convulsing slightly as though an unbearable weight pressed down on him. his anguish was palpable, his gasps ragged and labored, his entire form shuddering under some invisible force.
then, a sound—a haunting, visceral snap—echoed in the air, like the ripping of fabric mixed with the grotesque crunch of bone. felix’s head shot back, and he let out a heart-wrenching wail that cut through the room like a blade. his back arched unnaturally, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something that was no longer there.
you froze, horrified, as the source of his agony became clear. through the thin white cloth of his shirt, you saw it—two jagged, open wounds on his back, seeping blood that shouldn’t have existed. the fabric clung to the injuries, staining crimson as the bleeding continued.
"felix, what’s happening?!" you cried, your voice trembling as your heart raced wildly in your chest. you tried to steady him, your hands gripping his shoulders, but he flinched, his body recoiling from the touch like it burned.
he groaned again, his voice hoarse and broken. his glowing, ethereal presence dimmed before your eyes, his radiant skin now pallid and sallow. the faint hum of electricity you always felt when you touched him—gone. even the scent of vanilla, so comforting and familiar, seemed to fade, replaced by the metallic tang of blood.
his breathing was ragged, shallow, and his entire form quivered with agony. "no... no..." he muttered weakly, his voice barely a whisper.
"felix," you choked out, your tears blurring your vision. you pressed your hands to his face, your touch desperate. "please, what’s happening to you? tell me what to do!"
he looked at you then, his eyes swimming with sorrow and pain so profound it felt as if it might shatter you. his voice was barely audible, cracked and broken as he rasped, "they’ve... taken it... everything. my wings... my grace..."
your breath hitched, your mind reeling as the realization dawned on you. felix wasn’t just in pain—he had been exiled. stripped of his celestial essence, cast down to a mortal existence for breaking the sacred laws he once upheld.
tears streamed down your face as you tried to support his trembling body, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so human. "you’re bleeding," you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his back in a futile attempt to stem the flow.
"it doesn’t matter," he said, his words slurred with exhaustion. "i... i couldn’t stay away. i knew this would happen, but i couldn’t leave you... not like that."
the weight of his sacrifice hit you like a tidal wave, and you sobbed openly, clutching him tightly as he collapsed against you. felix’s breaths were shallow, his body heavy and weak as he leaned into your embrace.
"you shouldn’t have done this," you murmured, your voice cracking with guilt and despair.
"i had to," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "i love you.." 
felix’s whispered confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, his words trembling with vulnerability. his golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, searched yours for a reaction. the weight of his love—of everything he had given up—pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe.
"i love you," he repeated, stronger this time, as if saying it louder could convince you of its truth. his hand, trembling but resolute, reached up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. "i’ve loved you for so long... even before you knew i existed. watching over you, seeing your pain, your strength... i couldn’t stand to just watch anymore. i couldn’t lose you."
tears streamed down your face as you cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms but lacking the celestial glow you’d once marveled at. "felix," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "you gave up everything for me. how could i ever be worth that?"
his lips curled into a faint, pained smile. "you’ve always been worth it. you’re worth every punishment, every scar, every moment of this mortal life. i would do it all over again just to see you safe, just to be with you."
you shook your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. "i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve you."
"yes, you do," he countered, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "you deserve to be loved, truly loved, in a way that heals instead of hurts. and if i’m the one who can give that to you, then i’ll bear whatever it takes."
his words cracked something open inside you—a dam you’d been holding back for so long. the love you felt for him, so deep and consuming, poured out all at once. "felix, i love you too," you confessed, your voice trembling. "i’ve been so scared to admit it, even to myself, but i do. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone."
felix’s eyes widened, glistening with tears of his own, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. his arms, though weak, wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into a desperate embrace. "you don’t know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured against your hair.
you clung to him, your heart aching with both love and fear. "but what happens now? you’ve already lost so much because of me."
felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression resolute despite the pain etched into his features. "we’ll figure it out together," he promised. "no matter what comes next, i’m not leaving your side. not now, not ever."
his words were a lifeline, a tether to hope in the storm of uncertainty surrounding you. 
as felix’s promise lingered in the air, his golden eyes searched yours with such intensity that it felt as though time had momentarily stopped. despite the anguish and exhaustion etched into his features, there was an undeniable pull between the two of you—something raw, something unspoken.
your fingers instinctively moved to his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the simple intimacy of it.
"felix," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "you're all i have."
his gaze snapped back to yours, filled with equal parts tenderness and desperation. "and you're everything i’ve ever wanted."
before you could reply, felix closed the distance between you. his lips met yours in a kiss so gentle it felt like it could break with the wrong move. there was no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the unyielding truth of your shared emotions spilling into each other.
his kiss deepened as his trembling hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, as though he feared you might slip away if he let go. you felt the warmth of him, even in his weakened state, and the love he poured into that single moment overwhelmed you.
your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the kiss turned more urgent. the pain, the fear, the heartbreak—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fire igniting between you.
felix broke the kiss briefly, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "i can’t lose you," he murmured, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "not again. never again."
"you won’t," you promised, your voice steady despite the tears still streaming down your face. "i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."
as if reassured by your words, felix pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again with renewed fervor. his kisses were desperate yet tender, an unspoken apology for the pain you’d endured and a silent vow to never let you feel that way again.
something inside felix had snapped. whatever holy laws that prevented him from feeling this primal, sinful desire for you, they were long gone. something about kissing your lips, tasting you, drinking you in.. drove him into high gear. his hands were never ending in their exploration of your skin, roaming your body under your clothes. soft hums of appreciation left his lips as they danced hungrily against yours. 
his love and affections for you were obvious.. but this instantly grew beyond an emotional depth, and he wanted to claim you. in this instant, it was more than wanting to care for you emotionally. he longed to satisfy your every desire, offering you the most exquisite sensations a human could experience. he wanted to give you even the slightest taste of heaven, even if he was no longer an angel. 
his injuries and newfound pain were at the back of his mind–his main focus was you. finally, it was you. 
your hands slid up his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held onto you like you were his lifeline. his body was warm, his presence grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the crushing weight of your loneliness lifted.
the heat between you grew, felix’s touch becoming bolder as he brushed his hands down your sides, hesitant yet yearning. you felt his fingers tremble slightly, a reminder of his fragile state, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you tighter, pressing kisses along your jawline and down to the curve of your neck.
"felix," you whispered, your voice catching as his lips lingered on your skin.
he paused, his breath warm against your collarbone as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes were filled with love, devotion, and a vulnerability that took your breath away. "tell me if this is too much," he said softly, his voice hoarse but steady.
"it’s not," you replied, your own voice trembling. "but.. your back. you’re hurt."
felix’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his golden eyes softening even as his hands remained firmly on your waist. “don’t worry about me,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “this… what i’m feeling right now, being here with you… it’s worth any pain. i’m fine.”
you searched his face, uncertain, your fingertips brushing over his cheek. the warmth of his skin, the sincerity in his gaze, soothed your lingering doubts. “but felix—”
“i want this,” he interrupted gently, his voice carrying a rare firmness. his hands slid up your sides, steady despite their earlier trembling, until they rested just below your ribs. “i want you. i’ve wanted you for so long, and now that i have you here, i’m not going to let anything take me away from you again.”
your heart clenched at the conviction in his words. the love in his gaze was overpowering, a force you couldn’t fight against even if you wanted to. “you’re sure?” you asked softly, needing his confirmation, your fingers brushing through his disheveled hair.
he exhaled shakily, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “i’m more sure of this than i’ve been of anything in my existence. i’ve spent so long watching over you, loving you from afar. i don’t want to hold back anymore.”
felix tilted your chin gently, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt different from before. it wasn’t just hungry or desperate—it was tender, deliberate, filled with a quiet intensity that made your knees weak. his hands moved down, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, as though he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.
his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling trail that made your breath hitch. he paused again, his voice barely above a whisper. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.
you shook your head, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling within you. “i don’t want you to stop, felix. i want you.”
at your words, felix released a shaky breath, his lips curling into a soft, relieved smile that sent a shiver down your spine. slowly, with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the moment, he grasped the hem of your shirt and began to lift it. the fabric slid over your skin with ease, leaving your stomach exposed to the cool air, and you felt your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.
you raised your arms, allowing him to remove the shirt entirely. the loss of its warmth left goosebumps in its wake, your skin tingling from the sudden exposure. felix’s gaze dropped, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate, his golden eyes darkening with something primal, something raw. his breath hitched as his gaze lingered on your bare skin, your braless chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. the chill of the room had already peaked your nipples, and the sight seemed to unravel him further.
a low, guttural sound escaped him, almost like a growl, as he leaned in. his lips brushed against the center of your chest, pressing soft, reverent kisses that made your breath catch. each touch was deliberate, tender, and filled with a worshipful intensity that made your mind spin.
his lips moved slowly, leaving warm trails across your skin as he kissed the delicate curve of one breast, then the other, lingering as though savoring every moment. the sensation sent jolts of heat coursing through your body, your chest heaving under his touch. felix took his time, his lips and hands mapping the contours of your body with a devotion that left you trembling.
your thoughts were a hazy blur, consumed by the realization of how intimate this moment was. felix—the celestial being who had once been tasked with shielding you from harm, who had watched over you like a guardian star—was now here, touching you in ways that felt both sinful and sacred. 
his hands, his lips, his every movement felt as though they belonged there, as if this connection between you was meant to be all along. the contrast of what he once was and who he was now only deepened the intensity of the moment. 
“i want to see more of you,” felix murmured, his voice low and thick with longing. his hand cupped the underside of your breast, his touch reverent, almost trembling. you met his gaze, your heart fluttering at the vulnerability in his eyes, and nodded slowly, offering him a soft smile.
standing, you reached for the knot on your pajama pants, untying it with shaky hands. felix’s eyes never left you, his gaze intense, watching every movement as if memorizing it. meanwhile, he began unbuttoning his pristine white shirt, the fabric catching slightly against his trembling fingers.
when the shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, you caught your breath. his honey-toned skin glowed faintly under the dim light, a stark contrast to the jagged wounds on his back and the fading bruises across his neck. he winced, a hiss escaping his lips as the shirt grazed the sensitive injuries, but the pain seemed to dissipate the moment his eyes landed on you.
you’d reclined on the bed, your pajama pants now discarded, leaving you in only your underwear. the soft light kissed your skin, highlighting every curve, and felix froze, his heart racing so wildly he thought it might burst.
he moved closer, his hands steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to each of your bent knees, his lips warm and tender against your skin. his hands trailed down your thighs, his fingertips grazing your soft flesh with a featherlight touch, as if afraid he might break you.
“felix?” you spoke, your voice shy and a little hoarse from the intensity of the moment.
“yes, my love?” he murmured, his tone soothing and steady, even as his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“how do you…” you hesitated, your cheeks burning as your voice dropped lower, “know what to do? i thought angels couldn’t—”
felix chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. his hands continued their slow, adoring exploration of your skin, his lips hovering just above your thigh. “you’re right,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “angels don’t… but i’ve watched humans for centuries. seen their moments of love, of passion. i may not have experienced it before, but the thought of touching you, of being with you like this…” he paused, lifting his gaze to yours, his golden eyes filled with unwavering devotion. “it’s instinctual. it’s like i was made to know how to love you.”
his words sent a shiver through you, your chest tightening at the raw honesty in his voice. “felix…” you whispered, your hands reaching to cradle his face, your thumb brushing his cheek.
he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly before he pressed a kiss to your palm. “if i’m clumsy or unsure,” he continued, his voice soft, “just tell me. guide me. all i want is to make you feel cherished, loved... whole.”
your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, sitting up a bit to press your lips to his. “you’re doing everything right,” you assured him, your voice trembling with both nervousness and excitement.
felix’s lips curved into a soft smile against yours before he deepened the kiss, his touch growing more confident as his hands slid back to your thighs. his movements were reverent, as though worshiping every curve of your body. slowly, he shifted above you, breaking the kiss for a moment to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with both tenderness and longing.
one hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers brushing over your mound through the thin fabric of your panties. his golden eyes flickered down to watch his hand, but they quickly returned to your face, searching for your reaction. he pressed down with a little more pressure, the motion drawing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound sent a thrill through him, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
felix’s movements became more deliberate, his fingers creating a gentle rhythm as they teased you through the fabric. your hips instinctively rose to meet his touch, grinding against his hand as he followed your lead. the warmth of his palm, the delicate friction, sent sparks of pleasure racing through you.
“can i feel you... underneath?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and desire. a faint blush dusted his cheeks, a charming reminder of his inexperience.
you reached up, threading your fingers through his tousled hair, offering him a reassuring smile. “yes, that’s okay,” you whispered.
he nodded, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss before his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. both of your breaths hitched simultaneously as his fingers met your slick heat. the intimacy of the moment made your cheeks flush with warmth, your body responding instinctively to his touch.
felix’s fingers explored you slowly, his movements careful but curious, as though memorizing every contour of your most sensitive place. when he brushed his middle finger against your clit, a moan escaped your lips, your hips jerking slightly in response. the sound sent a jolt through him, his arousal growing, the evidence of his desire pressing against the confines of his pants.
he began to circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, his focus entirely on your reactions. every gasp, moan, and shudder guided him, and the connection between you deepened with each passing moment. your breaths became ragged, your body arching into his touch as he expertly worked you closer to the edge.
“felix, i’m gonna... oh my g-god!” you stammered, your voice breaking as waves of pleasure built within you.
he leaned down, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. let go for me,” he murmured, his words like a lifeline pulling you into bliss.
your orgasm hit with devastating intensity, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy washed over you. your legs shook uncontrollably, your nails digging into his forearm as you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release. felix watched you with awe, his heart swelling with pride as he took in the sight of you—your back arching off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your entire form glowing with pleasure.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his chest tightening at the sight of you undone beneath him. the sheer intensity of your release and the knowledge that he had brought you to this point sent a surge of arousal through him, his own need nearly overwhelming.
as you descended from the peak of your bliss, your chest heaving with each breath, felix leaned in to press a delicate kiss to your temple. his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers softly brushed a strand of hair from your flushed face. “are you okay, my love?” he asked, his voice low and tender, full of concern.
you nodded, your lips curling into a shy, dazed smile. “mhm… that was… really good,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
a soft chuckle escaped felix’s lips as he carefully withdrew his hand from your panties, his golden gaze dropping to the slick coating his fingers. without hesitation, he brought the digits to his mouth, his lips parting as he sucked them clean with an experimental slowness. his eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when they reopened, they glimmered with darkened desire.
“you taste divine, y/n,” he murmured, his voice rich with admiration and unrestrained hunger.
your cheeks flamed at the sight of him savoring you, but your attention shifted to the noticeable bulge straining against his pants. the sight sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and when your gaze returned to his face, you found him already watching you. his eyes were soft yet filled with a pleading sort of anticipation, his vulnerability laid bare.
“can i…?” you asked cautiously, your hand lightly pressing against the outline of his arousal.
felix’s breath hitched at your touch, his expression briefly contorting, not in discomfort but in a momentary overwhelm at the unfamiliar sensation. “y-yes,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “but… be gentle, please?”
“of course,” you assured him, offering a comforting smile as you carefully guided him to lie back. “just relax. don’t worry about the sheets.”
he followed your guidance, grunting softly as he adjusted his position. though the movement aggravated his healing wounds, felix bit back any complaints, his focus entirely on you. how could he not, when you knelt before him, bare and beautiful, your hands already working to free him from his remaining clothes?
as you tugged his pants down, his erection sprang free, slapping against his toned stomach. you couldn’t help but admire him—his length was flushed a deep pink, the prominent head peeking shyly beneath the extra skin. he was perfect, and undeniably human in this moment.
you leaned down, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along the base of his shaft, your lips trailing up the warm skin. felix’s breathing grew uneven, his golden eyes flickering down to watch you, though he struggled to hold your gaze. his cheeks were painted with a faint blush, his flustered expression only adding to his allure.
“you’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with awe.
felix’s lips parted as if to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, replaced by a soft groan as you kissed the underside of his length. your touch was gentle, tender, as though you understood how new and overwhelming this was for him.
“does this feel okay?” you asked softly, your eyes seeking his for reassurance.
felix nodded quickly, his voice catching as he replied, “yes… it feels incredible.”
encouraged by his soft groans and whispered praises, you continued your delicate exploration, your lips and hands moving with care and devotion. felix’s chest rose and fell in a rhythm that matched the tremors of his breath, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as if anchoring himself to reality.
when your lips wrapped around his length, his entire body jerked slightly in response, a low groan escaping his parted lips. the sound was raw, unrestrained, and it sent a surge of confidence through you. you moved slowly, your mouth warm and wet as you took him deeper, your tongue teasing the sensitive head with deliberate flicks and swirls. with each motion, you made sure to pull the skin back gently, exposing the most sensitive part of him to your ministrations.
“god, y/n… that’s—” his voice cracked, his words dissolving into a panting moan. his abs flexed involuntarily under your touch, and his head fell back onto the pillow, golden hair splayed like a halo. his hands left the sheets to tangle in your hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp, though he didn’t pull or guide—he simply held on as if the pleasure was too much to bear alone.
your pace remained steady, your tongue working magic against him as you hollowed your cheeks to increase the intensity. felix’s reactions were mesmerizing—his breath hitched, his thighs quivered, and his lips parted to let out soft, helpless moans. you could feel his arousal building, his body tightening under your touch.
“a-ah… wait!” he suddenly cried out, his voice desperate as his hips tensed.
alarmed, you pulled off immediately, his length slipping from your lips with a wet pop. “felix? did i hurt you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern, your eyes searching his flushed face for any sign of discomfort.
he shook his head quickly, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “n-no, love,” he managed, his voice shaky but reassuring. “you didn’t hurt me. i just… i was getting close, and i… i didn’t want it to end so soon.” his golden eyes, filled with vulnerability and desire, met yours, and he offered a soft, apologetic smile. “i want to feel more with you. all of you.”
his words sent a new wave of warmth through your body, and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “it’s okay, felix,” you murmured against his mouth, your tone soothing. “we’ll go at your pace. i just want to make you feel good.”
felix’s breath hitched as he let out a shaky laugh, his hands cradling your face with a tenderness that seemed almost at odds with the raw desire in his eyes. his golden gaze searched yours as though looking for permission to continue. “you already make me feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “but… please, i need to feel you completely. let me… let me be inside you.”
the desperation in his plea made your heart skip a beat, his need evident in the way his length twitched against your skin. “are you sure?” you asked softly, your voice laced with caution and care.
“i’ve never been more sure of anything,” felix replied fervently, his hands trembling slightly as they traced down your sides. before you could say another word, he gently guided you onto your back, his movements deliberate but brimming with urgency.
he tugged at the fabric of your panties, slipping them down and casting them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. the sight of you bare beneath him seemed to stoke his desire even further, his lips crashing into yours with newfound hunger. his knees parted your thighs a little more, positioning himself between them as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that left you breathless.
your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. the anticipation was electric, your body taut with expectation. felix pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hand guiding his aching length to your entrance. “if you need me to stop, just say the word, okay?” he whispered, his tone full of care despite the tension in his voice.
you nodded, biting your lip as your head sank into the pillow, bracing yourself for the moment you had both been yearning for. slowly, felix began to push inside you, his hips trembling as he sank into your warmth. the sensation overwhelmed him instantly—your tight heat surrounding him in a way that made his breath falter and a shudder rack his body.
a gasp escaped your lips as he slid all the way in with one smooth motion, the stretch both surprising and exhilarating. felix braced himself on his forearms, his face hovering just above yours. his eyes fluttered shut, and a whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to stay composed. “god… so tight…,” he muttered, his voice strained as he adjusted to the sensation.
for a moment, he stilled, giving you both a chance to adjust. his gaze returned to yours, full of concern and adoration. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper.
“y-yeah,” you managed, your voice breathy. “you can move.”
felix exhaled a deep breath and began to roll his hips, starting with a moderate pace. his movements were tentative at first, his eyes fixed on your expression to ensure you were comfortable. but as your gasps turned to soft moans, his confidence grew.
the friction was maddening, his steady rhythm sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies. each thrust drew a mix of grunts and whimpers from felix, his forehead resting against yours as he poured his entire being into every movement. “you feel… so good,” he groaned, his voice shaky with restraint.
your hands found purchase on his back, being cautious of his wounds. your fingers dug into the taut muscles as his pace began to quicken. the pressure was building, both of you lost in the connection that felt as much emotional as it was physical. “felix…” you moaned his name, your legs tightening around his waist as his hips snapped against yours with increasing fervor.
his breathing became erratic, his pace growing desperate as he chased his release. “y/n… i can’t…” he gasped, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.
“it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice tender and encouraging. “let go, felix.”
with a strangled cry, felix buried himself as deeply as he could, his entire body shuddering as his climax overtook him. his hips stilled, pressing tightly against yours as warmth filled you, his groans muffled against your neck as he clung to you like you were his lifeline.
for a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your mingled breaths, the quiet intimacy of the moment enveloping you both. felix finally lifted his head, his flushed face framed by his damp hair, and his eyes met yours with a look of pure devotion. “i love you,” he whispered, the words filled with awe.
your heart swelled, and you reached up to cradle his face. “i love you too, felix.”
as the two of you lay entwined in the quiet aftermath, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his body against yours and the steady rhythm of his breathing. felix’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, his touch grounding and tender. there was a newfound softness in his gaze as he looked at you, a vulnerability that mirrored your own. whatever boundaries had once kept him from you—divine laws, celestial duties, or his own insecurities—had crumbled completely, leaving behind a love that was raw, human, and boundless. in that moment, as you rested your head against his chest, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat, you both understood that this was where you belonged: together, in a love that defied heaven and earth.
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venusbyline · 2 months ago
Text
Sickly ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 14, oct.
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— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader
— type: smut, angst, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)
— kink: thigh riding
— summary: Motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.
— word count: 3.1k
— tags/warnings: kinktober 14th day, female!reader, Cregan Stark's twin sister!reader, Rhaenyra!mother-in-law, Jacaerys Velaryon's wife!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, thigh riding, nipple licking, lactation kink, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, crying, disturbing themes, mommy kink, death themes, grief/mourning, mother-son relationship, mother-daughter relationship, praise kink, oral (female receiving) mentioned, vaginal sex mentioned, creampie mentioned, Jacaerys Velaryon's daughter mentioned, labor mentioned, motherhood themes, nightmares, age gap (older woman/younger woman), sexism, implied Targcest (mother/son) BUT NOT REALLY, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, implied Rhaenyra Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon BUT NOT REALLY, mild dark, Joffrey Velaryon lives, canon divergence (the Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.
— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads
— crossposting: AO3
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Rhaenyra Targaryen had crossed a very dangerous line.
She knew better than anyone that in her mind, there was a fine line between acting recklessly or acting so promiscuously. From a young age, Rhaenyra let herself be carried away by the thoughts that arose in her brain — or by the lust that wet the middle of her legs.
She was never the best example of chastity. The furtive glances at Alicent Hightower when they were still best friends, the tameless desire for her uncle Daemon since she was a teenager, the loss of her virginity with Ser Criston Cole, the secret affair with Ser Harwin Strong, the kisses exchanged with Mysaria. And now... the unforgivable thoughts and actions with her daughter-in-law.
It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. It was sickly. Disgusting. She was mourning Jacaerys. You were in mourning. A mother losing her firstborn son and a girl losing her husband and the father of her newborn baby. Two women suffering for different reasons.
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Rhaenyra mourned Jacaerys' death, the panic she felt during his birth still fresh in her mind. She was so afraid of dying the same way as her mother Aemma that she did not even allow any man to enter during the labor. She did not want any man around. No presence of Laenor Velaryon, her husband, or Ser Harwin Strong, her lover and biological father of the baby she was carrying. Not even Viserys, her own father, should enter and give his opinion there.
Rhaenyra remembered everything perfectly. When Harwin fucked her and she discovered she was pregnant almost thirty days later, when Harwin was surprised and at the same time worried about the idea of being a father in secret, when Laenor was happy with the news, when Viserys celebrated that he would have a grandchild — believing the baby was the result of Rhaenyra's marriage to her husband.
Rhaenyra remembered the nausea, the tiredness, the strange feeling of her belly growing to adapt to the baby that was developing inside her. Sometimes she wished she had drunk the Moon Tea to avoid it, and other times she was happy at the thought of giving birth to a beautiful little girl. The princess was sure she was carrying a daughter. Just as she wished Aemma had given her little sisters.
The pain during childbirth and the fear of dying made her wish that if anyone in that body had to die, it would be the unborn baby, not her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was still so young and had a long life ahead of her. If the baby died, she could try to have another in the future. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she should never have children, especially when they were outside of marriage. Either way, Rhaenyra was aware that if she had to prioritize her own life or the life of her child, she would not think twice about saving herself. She would not make the same mistake her father made with her mother.
It was a surprise when the baby was finally born. A boy. She had longed for a daughter throughout her entire pregnancy, trying to hold on to the possibility that having a daughter would be like being able to follow her mother's footsteps, but without that tragic ending.
Her mild disgust at the midwives' enthusiasm that she had a healthy boy soon changed to panic when she noticed the small thinning strands in the baby's hair. Even though he was so tiny in her arms, she could clearly see that he would have dark hair like his biological father, the Targaryen blood not being so strong anymore.
But now, so many years after that desperate night, Rhaenyra cursed herself for three reasons: for having cared so much about Jacaerys' damned hair color, for having despised him for a few days until she got used to the new routine of being a boy's mother and not a girl's mother, and especially because she said at that time that she would not save Jacaerys during labor.
She would do anything to go back in time and never have thought about that. Now, Rhaenyra would do anything to die in every cruel and painful way possible if it was enough to bring her firstborn back.
Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had built a mother-son relationship over the years. It was not automatic like it was with Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon III and Viserys II. It was not even like the few seconds with her Visenya. She did not love Jacaerys immediately like she did her other children. She did not long for his life. She was a mother for the first time and each particularity of her connection with Jacaerys was created little by little. She learned to love him and she learned to protect him.
Rhaenyra learned almost everything about being a mother. But she never thought she would need to learn to live without her first son.
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As for you, there was a painful feeling also rooted in your chest. It was not the same as what the queen felt, it bordered more on concern than guilt. You had nothing to blame yourself for.
When your twin brother, Cregan Stark, used you as a bargaining chip to ensure Rhaenyra's steadfast loyalty to the Northmen, you were not even surprised. That is what you and all the noble ladies were made for. Always used to bargain alliances and produce heirs.
Like brood mares, no woman had the right to say no.
Cregan was a good brother, despite everything. At least he had kept you in Winterfell until a truly necessary and promising betrothal came. Jacaerys Velaryon, the heir to the Iron Throne if Rhaenyra won the Dance of Dragons, would have you as his wife, and in exchange for that, the Blacks would protect the North and provide more resources for the harsh winter. It was a fair exchange and it would ensure that they would not simply ignore the treaty at any time. Lord Stark was a man of his word and demanded the same from Jacaerys' family.
You understood his reasons. It was better to marry someone kind and caring than an old and rude random lord who saw you as just a fertile young woman to produce heirs.
It did not take long for you to love Jacaerys. He was so handsome and affectionate trying to make you feel comfortable in Dragonstone, that you even kissed him a few days before the wedding ceremony, and you were not at all afraid of the consummation of the marriage. It was incredible. Especially when you noticed how shocked Jace was when you closed your legs around his hips, pushing his cock even deeper, allowing him to spill his seed inside your cunt. He did not want you to feel used just to procreate, he did not want it to be a sacrifice.
Jace did not plan on having heirs anytime soon. He wanted you to fuck with him because you liked it, because he gave you pleasure. But never out of duty.
And you enjoyed every second. You never had to fear what would happen to you if his seed did not take fast. Just as you never had to fear how he would react if you gave birth to a girl and not a man heir. Sometimes you even thought he longed more for a daughter. After all, he had lived with brothers his entire life and had never even met his little sister Visenya, who was stillborn. If the baby was a girl, he would name it after his sister. If it were a boy, he would name him after his younger brother Lucerys.
You never had to fear many things when you were married to Jace. However, you always feared for his safety. And, Gods... You were right to do that.
Now, even after Queen Rhaenyra's victory, you feared what would happen to you and your newborn daughter. You were afraid that the Blacks would break the treaty since you were just a widow of a dead heir. You feared what would happen to your people if Rhaenyra went back on her word. You feared what would happen to your daughter Visenya now that her father was dead. Rhaenyra would reign for many years to come, but what would happen to her granddaughter? You were not someone who was greedy, but you did not know if Rhaenyra would name Joffrey as the next heir to the Iron Throne, or if she would let Visenya reign in the future.
If your daughter's succession to the Throne was not considered, you feared that she would hate you or her father's family. If she were named as the legitimate heir, precisely because she was the eldest granddaughter and the result of the marriage of Rhaenyra's murdered firstborn, you feared that Joffrey would hate Visenya and you, as well as his own mother. You feared yet another war between family members. Another Kinslayer, just like Aemond Targaryen.
You feared what Jacaerys' absence would do to your and Visenya's lives in the not-so-distant future.
You and Rhaenyra felt different emotions about Jace's death, but both of you loved him and cried every night missing him.
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It was not a surprise when Rhaenyra began to comfort you through your routine nightmares, all that involving the death of your dead husband. Rhaenyra also had nightmares every day. Always about her family's deaths.
She had regained what was rightfully hers, but at what cost?
It was not a surprise to her when you started hugging her while you had crying spells after dreams. It was not a surprise to you when she let you cry on her shoulder. It was not a surprise to her when you begged her to think about your daughter Visenya's future. It was not a surprise to you when she asked for forgiveness for not being enough to protect Jacaerys.
None of this was surprising or unexpected. Not even when the nighttime cuddles intensified. When caressing your hair and hugs were no longer enough. When Rhaenyra began pressing you against her full heavy breasts as you cried. When you started to put your hands under the nightgown Rhaenyra wore and caressed her soft skin.
It was wrong. Very wrong. It was sickly. It was disgusting and repulsive. It was too cruel to the memory of Jacaerys. How would the boy feel if he knew his mother was fucking his own wife?
Neither of you had any way of knowing the answer. Jacaerys was dead, after all. He never returned from the Battle of the Gullet. He and Vermax had been hooked like fishes and engulfed by the waves of the sea — Always wanting so much to have pure blood, to be legitimate... To end up just being a Velaryon rotting inside the ocean. It was ironic and you could not tell if it honored him as a Velaryon or just proved that the Strong blood running through his veins had cursed him, the last moments of his life in the middle of the place where a true Velaryon would belong, but never a bastard.
Rhaenyra hated herself for wanting you. You hated yourself for wanting her. Jacaerys would hate the two of you for this. And yet, both of you could not deal with the grief any other way. You needed each other.
You loved Jacaerys. You loved your late mother, Gilliane Glover, who died so soon after you and Cregan were born. You did not have time to live with her, just as Rhaenyra did not have time to live with her stillborn daughter.
You had lost your husband. Rhaenyra had lost her son. You needed a mother. Rhaenyra needed a daughter.
It was disgusting, very wrong. It was sickly. And you could not stop. You did not want to stop. It was the only way to deal with Jacaerys's grief and keep the boy's memory alive in your minds.
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"How was the nightmare tonight?" Rhaenyra asked softly as you sat on her lap, your teary eyes closing. You let her wrap her arm around your waist, your hips bigger after you gave birth to your daughter Visenya.
"About the sea. About pain. About blood... About him." Your voice came out trembling and muffled, your face buried between her breasts, so full and heavy that you could barely breathe, even if you did not make the slightest effort to move away. You wished she still had milk to breastfeed you like your mother had done. She wished she still had milk so she could breastfeed you like she had done with Jacaerys. Like she should have done with her Visenya, if the little baby had not been born dead.
The content of the nightmares that tormented your mind was nothing new. They were always about death, just like Rhaenyra's. And she always wanted to know yours. She always wanted you to tell her what you had dreamed of. But she never shared her own nightmares. And everything was fine. You did not really want to suffer over Rhaenyra's thoughts either. Were you too selfish for not wanting that? Perhaps. And perhaps she was too masochistic, always wanting you to explain every detail that haunted you in the early hours of the morning and disturbed your sleep.
You did not mind telling her. It felt good to share all of this with someone who understood. It was good to seek comfort from a mother.
Rhaenyra moaned when she felt your tongue circle her pink nipple, your teary eyes made you look like a child being soothed by a mother's breast.
She stroked your hair, thanking the Gods that you did not have silver or blonde hair. Thanking the Gods that Alicent did not let her marry Jacaerys to Helaena Targaryen. Thanking the Gods for allowing Jacaerys to annul his betrothal to Baela Velaryon when Lord Cregan Stark demanded that his army's loyalty would only be agreed upon if the prince married his twin sister.
She could never seek that comfort from Helaena. Her sister had always been too pure for her own good. And Helaena was too much like Rhaenyra herself. She could not picture Jacaerys in Helaena's place because of her hair.
Just as she could not seek comfort from Baela. Her stepdaughter had Laena's appearance and the rebellious and tameless personality of her ex-husband Daemon.
Joffrey had the same dark hair as his older brother, but you... You were everything she needed. You had dark hair like Jacaerys and you were a girl like her stillborn daughter. You were everything she wanted currently. A daughter. But also a concubine.
"It feels good?" Rhaenyra questioned when her hands went down to your nipples, sensitive from your lack of breastfeeding. You did not breastfeed Visenya often, preferring that she be fed by a wet nurse. Looking at her reminded you of Jacaerys and that made the moment difficult. Your milk would dry up quickly if you continued looking for Rhaenyra and leaving your daughter aside. You knew you needed to act like a mother, however, you liked to enjoy your time like Rhaenyra's daugther and affair.
You did not judge Rhaenyra for imagining her son licking her breasts when you did that. You knew she had never seen him in a sexual way. It was an innocent nostalgia, even if you were also pressing her other breast while memories of Jacaerys filled her mind. She wanted her eldest son back. You wanted your husband back. She wanted to feel you the same way her son felt you. And you wanted to feel every inch of the woman who gave birth to the man you loved.
You nibbled on her nipple after gasping as Rhaenyra she placed a hand on your mound, squeezing it rough enough to make your breast milk start to flow out. "Good girl..." She growled softly, admiring your embarrassed smile.
Rhaenyra ran her fingers through the milk before bringing it down between your legs, rubbing the liquid into your already wet folds. "N-Nyra..."
"Mother." The Queen corrected while you squirmed under her touch. Your milk was supposed to be to feed Visenya. And here you were, letting your mother-in-law rub it on your clit. It was so disgusting and depraved. Motherhood was a sick thing.
"M-Mother..." You whimpered the way Rhaenyra suggested, even though the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. Was this how she felt whenever she was eating you out? Did she pictured her son cumming inside your cunt so many times at the beginning of the marriage, filling you with his seed until it flowed, the same way his biological father had done to her in secret? Was this how Rhaenyra felt whenever you rubbed your face between her large breasts? Did she remember how difficult it was to get used to breastfeeding her firstborn? Was this how she felt now with her hand wet with your milk? Why did not she hate you, already knowing you would rather her do that than force you to breastfeed your daughter Visenya, while she did not even have the chance to feed her Visenya?
You wanted to know if she also felt disgusted by it all. You wanted to know if motherhood was really that sick for her too.
You wanted to know a lot of things, and you chose not to ask any of them. Ignorance was bliss. The answers were on both of your faces. The way she moaned as you pushed your fingers hard into her cunt, fucking the tight walls that had once dilated so baby Jacaerys could come into the world. The way your breast milk that was supposed to feed Jacaerys' little daughter had a different use now, soaking your own cunt as you took advantage of the additional liquid to ride harder against Rhaenyra's thick thigh.
You both felt sick and dirty, mentally begging for Jacaerys' forgiveness as you came, moaning each other's name. Your fingers were still inside her and your sensitive and sore clit was still pressed against her soft white skin, your cum and milk running down her thigh, while Rhaenyra kept your face against her chest.
"Thank you, Mother, thank you..." You sobbed, making no move to get off of her or release her walls. You wanted to prolong the feeling of self-loathing, enjoying the overstimulation of having your bud pulsing along with the continuous tremors of your body, just as Rhaenyra was enjoying feeling your trembling hand inside her, the four motionless fingers spreading her cunt like if you were preparing her for labor. Jace's birth or yours, you could not say. Both, perhaps.
"I love you, my dear daughter. My new daughter." Rhaenyra kissed the top of your head, caressing your dark hair. It was true. You were everything that kept Jace's memory alive in her mind. She loved her firstborn and she loved you in a sick way. After all, motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.
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localkiss · 4 months ago
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A (not so) Drunken Mistake
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pairings: best friend re2!leon x fem!reader
cw: clumsy, awkward shit, desperation, bad fluff (sry), first time, CONSENT CONSENT CONSENTT KING, creampie, shower time, mentions of alcohol, oral (f receiving), hand job, overstim a lil bit, hella dirty talking, light choking, multiple orgasms, soft dumbification, and nipple play. Lmk if I missed anything!
wc: 3.9k
dedicated to the lovely: zoepallvc !!
tags: @adiorxia @admirxation @rigorwhoring @nilpill @lottiies @leonkennedygvrl @leonsdolly @dilfstar @gettingsilly @bonnibuckets @bunnyclaire @dollfacefantasy ahh just tagging all my moots 😣!!
Awkward confessions being blurred out as you two were drinking in this living room. Soft shades of warm hues painting your skins, flushing out the cool tones of the night sky. His hand on yours, mouth slotting against yours as if it were natural. Normal. 
Both of you couldn't help yourselves anymore. The tension was thicker than oatmeal and ice cream cake. Soft giggles and blows into the wet caverns as you clumsily clashed teeth against teeth. Hot breaths of alcohol waft through the air. The bottles of Mike's Hard Strawberry Lemonade and a bottle of Crown Royal Whisky strewn across the coffee table. Alongside keys and stacks of mail, unopened. 
His hands travel across the bumpy surface of your body, mapping out every single dip. Being careful not to squeeze too hard or grope you in places neither of you are ready to explore with one another. If he wasn't drunk, he would've stopped at every inch and looked at you for confirmation. 
Your hands too, roamed wildly on his body. A soft gasp left you as soon as he guided you to his lower abdomen. Wanting—no—needing you to touch him. To give him the same attention he's giving you. Of course, the amount will almost never be the same. It's okay though, minds too heavy to even think rational thoughts. So who gives a fuck if he loves you more. Gives you more attention and doesn't expect the same amount back. It's been like this since day one. 
Leon has always had your back, especially during your childhood years. Both of you stuck to each other like glue. Always helping you when a guy gave you trouble or rejected you. Wished it was him that you imagined between your thighs. To be the first one to take your virginity with everything. But he thought it was too much to even ask for. So he settled with just staying best friends with you.
Of course, alcohol gave him the courage to even be doing this to you right now. But he knows better than to sleep with you instantly. Got to take things slow… to woo you over and make you yearn for him to be inside of you. To desire him pounding you with all of his might. 
You've seen his build many times, gulping as his arms got bigger than they used to be. When small veins would pop up on his forearms or his hands, it made your mouth just start pooling up. 
Or when the two of you would play fight, feeling his arms easily wrap around you and trap you against his body. One arm around your shoulders and the other around your delicate waist. 
Tossing and turning, you wearily remember last night. The kisses and heated touches you guys exchanged. Good god. You groan and flip over, reaching for Leon. 
“Leon. Wake up,” you croak out, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands. 
He grumbles, moving his legs, slowly waking up from the sound of your voice. He rolls over to his side, hands finding you and pulling you close to his bare chest. 
Your hands push up against his pecs, shaking him slightly. Giving him a few nudges with your feet, feeling his warmth soak into your skin like water. Makes you feel sleepy but you know you shouldn't fall back asleep. You have to get up and take care of your headache and relieve yourself! 
He opens his eyes slowly, a small smile creeping up on his lips. A toothy awkward smile. “Good morning beautiful,” he hums huskily. 
Doughy thighs squeezing together instinctively from the sound of his voice. Fuck. How did you even stay around him without jumping his bones? 
“Good morning,” you shyly sputter out, looking into his baby blue eyes. Fluttering your eyelashes a few times. Make sure you aren't dreaming of this whole scenario out. Daydreaming even. Maladaptive type shit. 
His thumbs gently trace your lower back, his pupils dilating into heart shaped you swear. 
You both could stare at each other for hours, if only you didn't have to piss so fucking bad. Might explode if you don't get up any time soon. Well, maybe not explode per say, but your kidney would sure appreciate it if you peed sooner than later!
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you tap on his arms, signaling him to move them. “I gotta go pee real quick,” shuffling out of the bed in his shirt and your underwear. 
Making a quick pace, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door. Relieving yourself with a sigh. Getting up, flushing the toilet, and washing your hands before Leon rattles his knuckles on the door. 
“Are you done?”
“Yeah, hold on.” You open the door, seeing him stand there with his hip slanted, arm leaning against the door frame. Of course his lips are painted in a smug sort of smile. 
“Let's shower together baby,” he comes up, wrapping his arms around you loosely. Coaxing you into this idea with soft kisses and soft touches. Feeling you relax into his body, practically slumping against him. Cute, he thinks. 
Hearing you mumble out an “okay”, he takes the prerogative to slip his shirt off of you. You lift your arms and he tosses it to the ground. Following his actions, you slip your panties off. 
Shyly standing before him as his eyes take over you hungrily. Leon hums in appreciation, his hands slowly running up your arms, over your shoulders, and down your chest. Taking his sweet time to appreciate every single thing on your body. Every curve, pimple, dimple, and strand of hair he can see with his eyes. 
This man is in love with you. Clear as day! 
You tremble with anticipation and adrenaline, feeling goosebumps chasing after his warmth. Letting out a low moan as he cups your breasts in his gigantic hands. Well… they're bigger than your own, that's for sure. You are positive he can hear each breath you take and exhale out through your nose. 
He lets go of them after a few soft squeezes. His index and thumb encapsulate your perky nipples, tweaking them curiously.
A zip of pain mixed with slight pleasure swirls around your areolas. Almost buckling from the sight of him and feel of his fingers. “Leon…” you whimper impatiently, hands coming up to tug on his boxers with little force. 
“Shh.. I got you princess,” he gives you an idiotic grin. Slowly dipping down to press his lips against yours, teasing you with little licks of his tongue, and soft nibbles. 
Groaning when you pull him down by the neck, arms wrapped around him like he's gonna disappear soon. Meanwhile his hands push his briefs down enough for them to fall down his legs. 
Soon after he grabs your thighs, directly underneath the cuff of your ass. Picking you up with ease and moving you to the countertop, right next to the sink. His hand moves up to your waist and the other moves to the back of your head. Slowly pulling away and tilting your head back, trying not to pull too hard. 
Groaning as you whine and paw at him needily. His lips mark his way down south, stopping to attack your neck with hickeys. Feeling your hands grip at his soft light brown hair. Giving it a few tugs and he bites down slightly harder on your chest. Of course he has to give the same treatment to the other side, kissing the valley of your breasts. 
Feeling your stomach tighten up, you wonder if he actually is a virgin like you. How is he so good at making you breathless? 
His lips wrap around your nipple and suckles on it, teeth grazing bud making you gasp. Hot wet tongue swirling around it, humming as you moan and press his face further into your tit. Leon's warm hands rub against your back soothingly as his eyes flutter, looking at your reaction. 
Pulling away, a string of spit connecting himself to you. Moving to give attention to the other side. He's like making out with your tits, humming and moaning like he's getting action too. His eyes dart up to you, pupils absolutely swallowing his irises. He looks so drunk off of just kissing your chest. 
“Can I go further, baby?” Leon's hands slip down to your thighs, giving them a squeeze. 
You open them instinctively. Allowing your sensitive parts to be visible to his eyes. Watching his eyes quickly flit down and stare at it. Zoning out practically. 
“It's so pretty, “ He coos, pushing your legs wider and spreading your cunt open with his thumbs. 
You twitch from how close he is and whine at his compliment. Hands giving his hair a tug closer to your body. Leon chuckles, pressing his lips on your inner thighs, teasing you by nearing where you want him. 
Repeating the same process on your other thigh. Leaving little marks wherever his lips collide with your soft skin. “Mhmm… fuck. Smells s’good. Can't wait any longer, beautiful.” He sticks his head further between your doughy thighs, tongue sticking out. 
Making contact with your sopping wet cunt. Breath fanning your glistening folds as he just licks it like a candy. Sloppily wrapping his lips at the top, looking up at you like he wants to ask where your clit is. 
“Mmph.. Leon it's here,” you lift the hood of your clit and show him it, shyly. He hums in affirmation. 
Leon goes buck wild and sucks on it like crazy. Feeling your hips jolt towards him. His gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut, getting lost in the sauce. Your sauce. Sweet and tangy as he's trapped in the smell of you. So overwhelming in the best way possible, really. 
You can tell he's enjoying this more than you are. With the way he's moaning and groaning, so much louder than you. The vibrations add fuel to the growing fire in your stomach. You spread your legs just a bit further apart. Making room for his head. 
“Leon,” you mewl loudly. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Please…” not sure what you are begging for. But he understands right away. 
His right hand slides away from your thigh, fingers teasing around your drippy hole. Slowly pushing his middle and ring finger until he's knuckles deep. Savoring the way you clench around his thick fingers. 
“So tight and warm.” He mumbles into your pussy. 
Delving back in and sucking on your clit once more. Moving his fingers in and out, not trying to make it hurt. But it's so hard to be patient and not make you cry out his name. He needs to make you feel good. After all these years of playing a cat and mouse game. 
Leon's been saving himself for you, hoping you did the same for him. Which he should know by now, since you both only really hangout with each other and mutual friends. Obviously you have your separate lives but it mostly overlaps with one another. 
You rock your hips in time with his fingers, gasping when it hits your g-spot. Tugging on his hair to get him impossibly closer to your heat. The sounds of slurping and squelching are echoing throughout his bathroom and into his bedroom. 
All this, you would've never thought would become reality. You've imagined him on top of you and whispering the naughtiest things you could think of. His hands touching everywhere on your body, his lips marking where it touches. Proudly claiming that you are his and nobody else's. Holding you extra tight when someone would flirt with you. His crystal blue eyes narrowing and a menacing aura shifting around him. 
What snaps you out of your thoughts is when he curls his fingers and his teeth graze your sensitive bud. Can't help that your hands tighten around his poor strands of hair. 
“You like that, baby?” Leon hums, watching your expressions intently. Figuring out what makes you tick and what you don't like. And you like this. 
A soft whimper rolls off of your tongue and into his ears. It's such a beautiful melody, hearing you enjoy yourself because of him. 
“C'mon princess, use your words.” He speeds up his fingers. Looking up at you like you are a god he worships day and night. A condescending tone just drips from his mouth. Acting like he can't figure it out just from the look of you. 
“Y-Yeah… mmhg,” you nod your head dumbly. Feeling your thighs start to shake and your gummy walls clenching around his digits. “like it..” 
Leon laughs softly and continues. Wanting to make you unravel before you both hop into the shower. It's the least he could do! He swirls his tongue around your clitoris a few times. 
You let out a high pitch moan, “‘M gonna cum! ‘M gonna cum…!” 
“Cum for me. Let it all out, honey.” He coos at you. His eyes are glued to your face. Watching it turn a light pink. Mouth hanging open wide. “Know you can do it for me.” 
The coil in your stomach tightens with a warm gooey liquid making its way down south. It snaps when Leon bites down just a little bit harder on your bud. 
All sorts of sounds spew out of your mouth. Whines, his name,  and breathy moans. Your upper body starts to shake, thighs closing in on his head, squeezing him. Your stomach tenses and your body wants to curl in on itself. 
Leon hums in revelation. His hand slows down to a stop and his mouth travels to your hole. Greedily licking away at your release. Needing every last drop to satisfy himself. He wishes he could store it all in a bottle and drink away at it when he misses you and your sweet cunt. Reluctantly, he pulls away, sucking at his fingers that were inside of you.
You hide your face at that, too embarrassing to watch him enjoy your taste. 
“Baby,” his hands slide up around your waist. Standing up to his full height. His head dipping down into the nook of your shoulder. His hot breath tickles your skin, in all the right ways. “Think you can walk?” 
You can feel his dick pressing up against your thigh, throbbing with need. It's hot and wet on your skin. “I don't know.” Is what you settle to say. 
Before you take another breath, he scoops you up into his arms. Your legs immediately wrap around his fit waist. He steps into the shower and sets you back on the ground, holding onto your waist snugly. Slowly turning on the knob to the right to get the water warm.
Leon pulls the shower diverter pin to switch the water flowing down to have it flow up into the showerhead. He leads you both under the water, his other hand coming up to your eyebrows. Making sure the water doesn't get into your eyes. 
Such a romantic!
Stepping closer to his body, in between his feet, you wrap your arms around him. “Do you want to do anything else?” 
“Like…what?” 
“Mm.. well, your dick keeps poking me…” 
“Oh.” 
“Yeah.” You look up at him with a smile. Sneaking your nimble hands to it. Wrapping them both around it and slowly — but very clumsily — stroking him. Watching his face change as you continue to jerk him off. It's your turn to make him feel good. Or at least you think you should give it back. 
Hearing his soft moans. Feeling his hips buck into your hand and his arm tightening around you. Leon's hand slips down to the back of your head. Dipping down to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue prodding your lips, begging for entry. Hot breaths coming out of his nostrils against your face. 
Your mind can't handle kissing him so hungrily, and making him feel good. So, you squeeze his poor cock and in return, Leon tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls it just a bit. Stumbling a bit backwards, you let go of it. 
Leon pulls away and kisses around your face. So sweet. 
“May I have sex with you?” His eyes blink their way down your wet body. And then back up to your eyes. 
His face is flushed, his plump lips are pressed together. He just looks so divine. You want to, want to so bad. 
“Yes, please.” Nodding like a madwoman, he gives you a chaste kiss. Patting your head like a cute puppy. 
Turning you around and pressing down on your back gently, he goes between your bodies and grabs his length. Teasingly rubbing the sticky tip against your clit and down to your hole, not yet putting it in. Groaning when it slips a little bit into your hole. 
“Are you ready, baby girl?” 
“Uhuh, I'm ready Leon.” You put your hands on the shower wall as his hand grips onto your hip.
Slowly pushing his cock into you, a soft whine mixed with a moan leaves his lips. Stopping after a few inches are in your pussy. “You okay?” 
“Mhmm… you feel so big, Leon.” Pressing your hips back against him as you speak. 
Leon's hands grip harder onto your hips. Watching his dick disappear into your wetness. Your gummy walls clinging onto him like he should never leave. Seems like he enjoys being told that his manhood is big. 
“Fuck baby, you're so… tight.” He leans down, sliding the rest inside. Groaning when you flutter around him, squeezing him harder. His hips buck and he grazes your womb. 
You moan louder, trying to get used to something bigger than a tampon going in and out of you. “Please..” Wincing and involuntarily arching your back. 
Leon pulls out and pushes in, a few inches at a time. After a few minutes of gently fucking you, he decides to go just a tad rougher. His eyes narrowing at your ass, watching the way it jiggles as his pelvis makes contact with it. 
He's always thought you had a nice ass. Now, it's going to be forever ingrained in his mind, as it moves like water. Bouncing back onto him. 
“Baby, fuck,” he whines, going faster. Hearing your desperate moans and whimpers makes all his thoughts drip down to his cock. 
Leon wants to kiss you so bad. Kiss you and fondle you whilst he's pounding you. Not sure if his brain would short-circuit and ejaculate prematurely. He's too deep into you to ever want to pull out though. 
His hands slide up to your breasts, squeezing them as if they were stress balls. Lowering down so his chest is merely inches away from your back. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body. 
“You like that?” Breathing heavily into your ear like it's asmr. Snaking his arm around your neck, the other one wrapping around your waist. Needing you to be as close to him as possible. Even if it meant lightly choking you with his soft muscles. “Like it when I manhandle you? Mhmm, I know you do. Every time we wrestled, you think I couldn't hear you gasping and whining?” 
It's dizzying how easily he can maneuver you. You can't really tell if he's trying to make you break, or if he's just talking to talk. Probably the former. 
It's sort of frustrating how much he can remember and pays attention to your every little expression and noise. It's almost as if he has a small part of his brain just dedicated to you, storing everything about you there. Which really, should flatter you. Such a man wrapped around you like a vine. 
“Fuck, I do. I love it,” you claw at his forearm, arching your back. Feeling the way his fat leaky tip goes impossibly deeper, curving around your squishy muscle. Unable to help yourself when your eyes roll into the back of your head, tilting back against his chest. 
He's barely pulling out in this position and he groans. “Yeah, I'm always right, baby. I know you better than yourself,” he coos condescendingly. “Play with that pretty little clit of yours.” He can't help but laugh, trailing off into a whimper. Pressing kisses against your temple. 
It doesn't take you long to spring a leak! With all that dirty talking he keeps mumbling into your ear. His hand groping your front side insatiably. With his stamina, really, he could go at it all night like a rabbit. 
“Mmm… been dreaming of stuffing you full of my cock for a long time. Wanted to hear your pretty voice and feel you against me. Shit, this feels unreal.” Leon grunts through his teeth. Clenching his jaw tight. 
Your legs almost give in, pressing back against him hard. Letting strings of cries and unimaginable sounds out from the bottom of your lungs. Feeling numb from the waist down. Luckily, Leon holds you upright, still plapping away into your soaked cavern. 
“Good job. Good girl, sweet fucking—shit.” Your boyfriend growls, removing his arm around your neck to push your lips together. Swooping in for a spit filled kiss. His manhood is twitching against your womb. 
“Want you to cum inside,” you lick into his mouth as he moans breathily. Pressing you tighter against him once those words reach his ears. 
“Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up with my cum? Get you pregnant and—” He can't even hold on for much longer. Just the idea of pumping you full and the possibility of getting you pregnant just makes his veins jump. 
Leon whimpers, spurting rope after rope of his load into your womb. Your pussy greedily latching onto him and milking him for what he's worth. He's still humping into you. Fantasizing about the day you both have a family, a white picket fence and a cute dog in the picture too. 
“I love you.” 
“I love you too, precious.” He hesitates to pull out, sad at the idea of his little swimmers falling out of you. 
Being the good guy he is, he cleans you both off. Massaging your hips and lower back, fearing he went a bit too hard on you. Running the soft pads of his fingers through your hair, with you resting against his chest. 
Littering your face and neck with sweet kisses. Drying you both off and placing fresh clothes on your body. Laying down in the bed, cuddling one another.
“Maybe next time, we'll do it in my bed.” He jabs your arm lightly with his elbow. Already thinking of the next time both of you will go at it like teenagers. Clumsy and desperate. 
“Yeah. Maybe next time, someone will buy condoms.” And that makes him whine, pouting down at you. 
“But baby,” he tugs you closer to his chest, “I'll take care of you and the baby.” 
“Leon.” You whack at his chest. Trying to smack some sense into him. “We can't have kids right now.* 
“Who said so?” 
“Me.”
“Well, I say we can and should.” 
“Huh. Whatever you say boss man.” 
“Don't call me that. It sounds gross.” Leon scowls playfully, feigning disgust in his voice. His blue hues twinkled softly.
“Okay, big guy.” You erupt into a fit of laughter. Leon joined you immediately after. The vibrations buzzing against your hand on his chest. Safe and warm. Like home. 
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maskedbyghost · 4 months ago
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Beneath the Mask
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Simon Riley was a man of few words and even fewer moments of vulnerability. The mask he wore wasn't just for protection; it was a shield from the world, from feelings, from everything. But tonight, as he stood in the kitchen of your small apartment, watching you hum softly while chopping vegetables, he felt something he rarely did—peace.
You’d only been dating for a few months, despite having known him as your lieutenant for much longer. For the longest time, both of you kept your feelings hidden, until one drunken night when everything spilled out—confessions exchanged—before falling asleep like nothing had changed. It wasn’t until the next morning, as the memories of the night resurfaced, that you realized what had happened. You were terrified of ruining the friendship, while Simon had already begun quietly planning your future together, looking for a house where you could grow old side by side, completely normal behavior if you ask him.
Simon smiled, remembering your cute face when you tried to apologize for your outburst of feelings, thinking that what he said was only to make you feel better. You couldn't be more wrong. He took your hands, kissing the soft skin through his mask, while repeating everything he said the night before, and meaning it.
Now, while standing in your kitchen, watching you make dinner for the two of you, his heart filled with warmth he couldn't explain. He was glad for that night when he finally got the girl of his dreams. You were smart, kind, beautiful, and patient with him. Very patient. He could see it in your eyes every time you looked at him—the love and respect you had for him.
Even after months of dating, you’d only seen his face a handful of times. It was something he kept guard, a piece of himself he wasn’t ready to share completely. You never wanted to push or make him uncomfortable, understanding how significant that step was for him. He had spent most of his life alone, hidden behind his mask, where he felt safe. You knew the best way to support him was to let him unveil himself at his own pace, just as you had grown to feel so comfortable with him over these past few months.
"Can I help you with anythin', love?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently drawing you into him. You hadn’t even heard him approach—something he would usually scold you for, reminding you to always stay on guard. But what he didn’t understand was just how safe you felt with him. Whenever he was near, every worry disappeared, and you knew, without a doubt, that you were protected.
"Thank you, baby. I'm almost done, but you can help me by setting up the table." You said while stirring the soup while checking on the main dish that was cooking in the oven.
Simon stayed close behind you, wishing he could inhale the scent of your hair, but the mask allowed only a faint scent to reach him. He wanted to press soft kisses to the top of your head and across your face, yet the mask remained a barrier between him and the intimacy he craved at that moment.
Unaware of his thoughts, you turned around and pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling the softness of the black cotton shirt he wore at your place. "I need to check if it's ready," you said, gently freeing yourself from Simon’s strong embrace and moving toward the oven on the other side of the kitchen.
Simon decided at that moment—he would finally let you see the real him, scars and all. Although he longed to stretch out this precious moment, he felt reassured by the way you hadn’t turned away during the brief glimpses you’d had of his face. That gave him the courage to open up completely. As you focused on the oven, he took a deep breath and gently approached you, his voice tender and resolute. “I’ve been hidin' behind this mask for so long,” he said softly. “But with you, I wan' to be fully myself.”
For a moment, his words didn’t quite register. But when you turned around and saw him slowly removing his mask, your breath caught in your throat. You stared awestruck at his face. How could someone as beautiful as he was, hide behind a mask for so long? The sight of him, unmasked and vulnerable, took your breath away. He was beautiful. In your eyes, Simon Riley was a remarkably beautiful man, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky that he was yours.
Simon stood in front of you, his heart pounding as he noticed your stunned silence. The moment stretched on, and he grew anxious, questioning if he had made a mistake. He knew he wasn’t unattractive, but his scars had always made him uneasy. Now, he worried that his vulnerability might have changed how you saw him. Was his decision to remove the mask a mistake? Should he put it back on? Doubt began to creep in, clouding his mind.
As Simon’s anxiety grew, you blinked, snapping out of your trance. You saw the worry etched on his face and felt a pang of guilt for making him question himself. Taking a deep breath, you reached out, gently cupping his face with your hands. “Simon,” you said softly, your voice steady and reassuring. “You are breathtaking. Every part of you. The scars, the mask, it’s all part of what makes you… you. I’ve never been more sure of how much I care about you.”
He looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity but finding only warmth. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he absorbed your words. “You’ve shown me so much of yourself already,” you continued, your thumb brushing gently against his cheek. “I’m honored that you trust me enough to let your guard down. I’m not going anywhere.”
Simon’s eyes softened, and he let out a shaky breath, the tension melting away. With a small, relieved smile, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. The mask was no longer between you two and in that moment, you both felt a profound sense of closeness, understanding that your bond was deeper than any barrier could ever be.
Your eyes sparkled with affection. “Come here,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He hesitated for a moment before finally relaxing into your embrace. As you held him, you felt the tension in his body slowly ease. “I’ve always admired your strength,” you murmured. “And now, I see even more of the person I care about.”
Simon pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression softening with relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I needed to hear that.”
Simon lowered his head until his lips gently met yours. At that moment, he knew that he could share this kind of closeness whenever he wanted. There were no more barriers between you—just the pure connection that he had longed for.
You took advantage of the lack of the mask by tangling your fingers with his short hair as he pulled you closer into the kiss. As you both savored the kiss, the world outside seemed to fade away. Simon’s hands cradled your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he were afraid to let go of this newfound closeness.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but your eyes met and Simon’s smile was soft and genuine, a rare sight that spoke volumes of his feelings. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “Thank you for being so patient with me love.”
You smiled back, your heart full. “There’s no need to thank me. This is what we’ve always been working towards baby, being completely ourselves with each other.”
As you sat down to enjoy your meal, you both knew that the evening marked a new beginning. The barriers that had once stood between you were gone, replaced by a bond that was stronger and more genuine than ever. You were ready to face whatever came next together, secure in the knowledge that your love was built on trust and an unbreakable connection.
(English is not my first language, be nice pls.)
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harunayuuka2060 · 6 months ago
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Azul: I can assist you with your worries.
MC: *has an innocent and confused expression*
Azul: My apologies. You must have been surprised when I approached you so unexpectedly.
Azul: My name is Azul Ashengrotto, the dorm leader of Octavinelle.
MC: *smiles* It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Azul Ashengrotto.
Azul: *smiles back* May I take a seat beside you?
MC: Of course, please make yourself comfortable.
Azul: Thank you! *sits next to them*
Azul: ...
Azul: *hides a smile*
MC: ...
MC: Sir Azul, concerning our earlier exchange, could you clarify what you meant by offering to assist me with my troubles?
Azul: Right.
Azul: I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for you. Professor Crewel humiliated you in front of the entire class.
MC: *displays a slightly pained expression*
MC: *forces a smile* I am embarrassed that someone else saw that. *chuckles*
Azul: Please don’t be. In fact, I believe it was entirely uncalled for.
Azul: If I may inquire, what caused Professor Crewel to become so enraged?
MC: ...
MC: I have been struggling with his class.
MC: Furthermore, I have also lost the book I borrowed from him.
Azul: ...
Azul: Oh dear.
Azul: You're clumsy and an idiot.
MC: You must see me as rather clumsy and foolish.
Azul: W-Why would I? It's a normal thing for students.
MC: *sigh* Do you truly believe so?
Azul: Yes! And I may be able to assist you in improving your situation!
MC: ...
MC: *smiles* Thank you. I would be most grateful if you would.
Azul: *triumphant face*
Professor Trein: You are quite a skilled actor, Professor Crewel. I could never have managed that myself.
Professor Crewel: It required all my willpower to achieve that.
Professor Trein: What were they planning?
Professor Crewel: I'm guessing it has something to do with Azul Ashengrotto, as they made sure he could hear everything.
Professor Trein: ...
Professor Crewel: We should wish Ashengrotto good luck.
Azul: ...
MC: *smiling* What's wrong?
Azul: ...
Azul: This is a site plan.
MC: Yes. I have been struggling to determine the best use for that unoccupied land. While I have received many suggestions, none appear particularly promising to me.
Azul: This appears to be a personal matter.
MC: Indeed, but you promised to make things better for me, didn’t you?
Azul: ...
Azul: This is out of my scope.
MC: Aren’t you searching for a location to expand your business?
Azul: !!!
Azul: How did you-
MC: You are not the only one capable of conducting background checks, my dear.
Azul: ...
Azul: *his face turned serious*
Azul: Who are you?
MC: You shall learn in due course, once Jade Leech returns from his investigation.
Azul: ...
Azul: ...
Jade: ...
Jade: Azul, are you alright?
Azul: THEY'RE THE REIGNING MONARCH OF THE KINGDOM OF ARENDELLE?!
Jade: Please keep your voice down, Azul.
Azul: ...
Azul: Jade... WE HIT A JACKPOT!
Jade: *sigh* *then chuckles*
Azul: Where did I put that site plan-
Lucas: At least you did something productive for once, Your Highness.
Lucas: Though the prince regent isn't too happy about it.
MC: Hm? Why? I remember him praising Mostro Lounge and wanting one for the kingdom so he wouldn’t have to travel so far.
Lucas: He complained that Azul Ashengrotto is a bit talkative.
MC: ...
MC: *chuckles* Oh dear, he should make a personal request to see him less often.
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luxurychristmaspudding · 7 months ago
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Una Noche En Medellín | Javier Pena x f!Reader
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summary: a long day playing pretend at a wedding leads to... exactly what you'd expect.
pairing: javier pena x f!reader
ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. javi smoking, mention of a fictional pregnancy, ONE motherfucking BED BABY! mention of previous p in v, fingering, brief f!oral. this is pretty tame, y'all. reader has hair.
wc: 2.4k
an: this is my entry for the summer lovin' challenge thought up by the wonderful @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i can literally only apologise for this being so late. i scheduled it in the wee hours and got my dates SO wrong.
my brief was a wedding, javi, and the moodboard you can see in the header. this was so much fun, and my first time posting for our fav dea agent - i hope you enjoy!
divider from @saradika-graphics
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The fabric of your dress clings uncomfortably to your skin, sweat glistening under the warm lights of the hotel as you step into the elevator. Hair damp at the nape of your neck, thighs chafing a little as you shift on aching feet, you turn from your tired reflection in the mirror back to the closing doors. 
You watch, drowsy, as Javi presses the button to the tenth floor, one thick finger lighting up the numbers. The same hands that have been on you all evening, long into the night. Squeezing, holding, twirling. He stands with his back to you now, shoulders tense and squared. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d pissed him off.
You slump a little against the mirror behind you as the elevator swoops and glides upwards, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose. 
Neither of you had thought it’d be easy. But neither had you thought it would be so exhausting. 
Exhausting to remember the details of your cover, to explain that the reason you weren’t drinking was because you’d recently discovered you were expecting your first child. Exhausting to navigate the knowing looks and slaps on the back, the hands on your non-existent bump, trying to make it look convincing. Following Javier around the room, his hand in yours; whispers pressed into the conch of your ear, your hairline - intel exchanged, wrapped in the pretence of humour and affection. Bodies pressed together in a way that should have been unprofessional, but not in a way that was unfamiliar.
The mission had been a success. 
Under fairy lights and between bubbles of champagne, blanketed by the heady heat of Medellín, you’d wound your web. Dancing and talking, sharing cooing compliments with the other guests, letting people watch and believe as you’d kept each other close, the proximity of Javi coming so easy with the thump of bass and threat of danger. Recognising the faces taped and pinned to corkboards in the office, matching voices to crackled radio frequencies, red string to red crosses.
Never standing in one place for too long, never speaking English, never looking surprised, always looking so in love. Draped across his lap with one hand on your hip and the other splayed against the small of your back. Your face tucked into his neck as you relayed information against his jawbone. His kisses to your shoulder as he told you Steve and Carillo were already on their way to the targets’ addresses. Not out of each other’s sight for more than a minute. 
It had been so easy it was almost laughable.
The cartel’s informant would be on his way to his hotel, and his impending arrest, now. The rest of the guests, the family and friends, would soon catch wind and begin to disappear, to turn on each other. And it would be like you and Javi were never there. Blending with the disco lights, melting into the shadows. 
For now, all you need is some rest.
The elevator bell dings for the tenth floor, and you watch as the doors slide open with a quiet hum. Javi turns his face, barely, to make sure you’re still with him, hand twitching at his side as though he wishes to reach for yours. 
It’s hard to turn the performance off. 
Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, wedding band glinting in the light, as he steps out into the hallway. You follow, reaching into your purse for the key card, watching the slump of his broad shoulders stride up the hall, the sweat-curled hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been running your fingers through it twenty minutes ago, cooing something about wanting to take him to bed that had only been a half-lie. He’s been warm and firm against you all night, always within reach. There’s not a scrap of your dress or an inch of your skin that doesn’t smell like his aftershave. And you’re not too proud to admit how much that turns you on.
He leans against the doorframe with one arm when you reach your room, lips lifting in a smirk.
You pull a face at him as you swipe the key card and open the door.
‘What?’
He shrugs as he watches you step into the darkness, waiting only a moment before following and flicking on the light.
‘Just - didn’t think you had it in you, cariño. Never thought you could dance like that.’
You scoff at him as he closes the door, leaning against the coolness of the wall to unclasp and take off your heels.
‘Surprises are part of the job, Peña,’ you grin, ‘Didn’t think you’d be so good at pretending to enjoy a wedding reception.’
‘I’ve had practice.’ He quips, unbuttoning another two of his shirt buttons, white linen against the gold of his skin, sweat gathered at the hollow of his throat. Something burns in your chest - wanton and willing.
He flips on another light as you throw your heels to the side, pausing in the mouth of the room before it opens to the sleeping quarters. You press a palm to his warm back, trying to urge him forwards before he speaks.
‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’
You step from behind him to stand at his side.
Illuminated, glowing in the bedside light before its backdrop of glimmering city lights, is a single, king-size bed; crisp white sheets neatly tucked beneath the mattress.
You bite your cheek, looking at Javi. His stormy brow, his clenched jaw. 
‘This was supposed to be a suite.’ You murmur.
You want to be angry. Want this to be the thing that ruins an otherwise successful day. But you’re so warm, so tired. You only want a shower and a place to sleep. And you’ve had many worse places than this to do exactly that. 
‘We could call the front desk,’ Javi says, as a yawn pulls at your jaw, ‘See if they can switch us to a room with two beds.’
You shake your head, and he glances at you, surprised.
‘It’s late, and bad for our cover. We can share.’ A small frown teases between his dark eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘We’re fake married, remember?’
You step past him, smoothing the sheets with your hand. Cool. Soft. You could lie down now and die happy.
There’s the distinctive shnick-whoosh of a lighter behind you, and when you turn, Javi’s face is lit by the soft glow of a cigarette.
‘How could I forget,’ he says, breathing out a rush of blue smoke, ‘When mi esposa has been the life of the party all evening.’
You purse your lips playfully.
‘I thought you enjoyed being my husband, Alejandro.’
A sultry smile softens his features.
‘Sure, cariño.’
You wink at him as he brushes past you, linen against silk. He smells so good. Clean and masculine, something so Javi cutting through it that you can feel that burning move from your chest to pool between your legs.
He breezes through the curtains shrouding the balcony, and you turn into the bathroom, inspecting the array of toiletries, and the towels, fresh and white, waiting for you. You turn the shower on, setting the water to cool before reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You twist fruitlessly for minutes, but the heat, the dampness of your skin makes the fabric hard to adjust, the zip impossible to catch. A well of frustration rises up your throat, and you clench your jaw.
Hands pressed against the porcelain of the sink, you look into your own eyes in the mirror. Tired, hot. Not too proud to ask for help.
Javi is stood on the balcony, forearms resting against the railing, smoke curling around his strong silhouette. He turns at the sound of the curtains moving behind you, and you smile as he leans back to watch you approach.
His appraising look is appreciative. Sexy.
You turn your back to him, to those eyes.
‘Unzip me?’
You wait for what feels like an eternity. Rocking slightly where you stand, breath catching in your lungs. Every muscle in your body tightened in anticipation.
Goosebumps break out over the small of your back as his fingers trace the line of the zip, up, up to your shoulders. They skim the fabric there, catching your bare skin before settling at the slider. He pulls, slowly. So close you can feel his breath on your neck. Pulls it all the way down so that the dress falls loose at your chest, so it would take only the smallest movement for the garment to drop to the floor. 
His palms slip beneath the silk, curving around your waist. On instinct, yours follow, catching and holding them in place as you sigh at the feeling of his nose tracing your neck. His thumbs stroke the contours of your back.
‘Que linda, bebita.’ He breathes, and you fight the moan surging up from your belly. You hum, leaning into him even as you whisper,
‘I didn’t say undress me.’
A short burst of air at your shoulder, a barely noticeable kiss against your hot skin to disguise his amusement.
‘Wasn’t going to.’
It’s your turn to huff a laugh.
‘We can be professional for a night.’
‘We can.’ He murmurs, and the heat of his body behind yours is lost almost immediately. You sway a little, a smile on your lips as you step back towards the bathroom. You know Javi is watching.
He always is.
He told you. That night in Bogotá, bodies pressed against, pressed into each other. Your legs wrapped around his waist, claw marks red-raw up his back as you’d moaned and cried for him. The wet squelch of your cunt as he worked you open, as he fucked you, as he crooned into your mouth how you’d been all he’d thought about since you stepped into the bullpen. So fucking smart, so capable, so sexy. How you’d been driving him crazy - lips crushed against your temple as you clenched around his cock.
That whole night, how good it had been, how heady. No one had ever made you come like that.
You’d not called the next day, having slunk out of Javi’s room some time in the early hours of the next morning. He’d never asked you why you hadn’t stayed. You’d never spoken of it again.
It was stress relief. Never anything more than two people blowing off steam. Never anything more than two people giving into an obvious attraction.
But that night doesn’t seem so far away as you wash away the sweat and soap from your body, as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Doesn't erase how you feel him watching, how close he feels, even separated by the door.
And though the shower is cool, your blood still runs hot. Pumping and burning with want in your veins, arousal so strong it makes you giddy as you wrap a towel around yourself, leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
Javi is sat on the edge of the bed, naked save only for his boxers. The sight of him takes your breath away.
He's so broad, hard and soft in all the places he needs to be. And he's so pretty. Perfect little pouty mouth, deep, dangerous eyes. There’s no cigarette dangling from his lips, nothing in his hands as he clasps them between his spread knees. You think about sinking down between them, pressing your cheek against the bulge outlined below the smattering of hair at his navel.
You step towards him, and he watches with blown, hungry eyes.
You stop in front of him, still wrapped in the towel. He reads your mind like he always does. In the bullpen, the offices, the field. With a gun or a cigarette or a pen in his hand, Javier Peña knows what you need. He parts the towel, sliding his palms across your naked hips, holding you before him. You can’t breathe, can’t speak. It’s too hot in the room, in your body. You can feel slick sliding against the tops of your thighs, spread right up to your clit. So wet it should be criminal. 
Javi clicks his tongue, moving his hands so he can spread you open with his thumbs. He pouts at you, small tilt of his head. 
‘Pobrecita.’
You'd roll your eyes if it were any less true, if he weren't swiping one thumb through your wetness, over your clit. You suck a breath in before moaning brokenly. He grins, wolfish, up at you. 
‘What were you thinking about in that shower, cariño?’
You smile down at him, eyes half-closed. 
‘You.’
He hums, moving his thumb again. You shudder, knees giving a little. His hand at your hip tightens. 
‘Good girl.’ He coos. 
Your hand flies to his shoulder with a garbled cry as he presses tighter, moving the digit faster. He knows how to work you, knew before he'd even touched you. You're on fire, pussy tightening as your hand travels up his neck, before tangling with the curls at his nape.
That's it.
You can hear how wet you are. The only sounds in the room are the buzz of the city below, your fast breathing, and the movement of Javi’s fingers. He’s building you up to it, astoundingly fast. The sight of him, sat on the edge of the bed, spellbound by what he’s doing to you, the noises you’re making, the sight of you bared to him. Makes you want to touch him, too.
Does that feel good, bebita?
So good, Javi.
But just as it seems so close, as you can feel yourself start to clench and pulse and twitch, he slows. Slows the rhythm of his thumb right down to deep, languid circles, keeping you right on the edge as he loosens the towel and lets it drop to the floor, as he leans forward to reverently press his forehead to your belly. He breathes in deeply, and you flex your hips towards him. He nips at your skin, and you whine as he laughs.
‘I think about it,’ he breathes, voice deep and thick, nuzzling into the crease of your thigh, ‘That night in Bogotá. Tell me you think about it, too.’
You hiccup, nodding. Fisting his short hair.
‘All the time,’ you gasp, ‘All the time, Javi.’
He groans, moving to lick a hot, wet stripe through your folds, right up to your clit. It’s like fire, electricity. Your body jolts against him, every nerve ending bending towards him, flinching into this sweet torture.
His lips are shining with your arousal when he pulls away to look you in your eyes.
‘Let me have it. One more night, in Medellín. Let me have you.’
939 notes · View notes
r3starttt · 7 months ago
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ABBY FLUFF HC’S
taglist
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MODERN AU HC'S
𐙚 gets sooo sleepy after she eats. Except for when she's having breakfast, since she's definitely a morning person she has the most healthy massive breakfast ever.
𐙚 definitely eats gym food. The most it tastes like cardboard the more she likes it. And always makes you eat what she eats, no excuses.
𐙚 takes you everywhere she goes. Gym? You go too. Work? She's driving you to your job or waking you early in the morning to take her to hers.
𐙚 cuddles, all the time, any reason or no reason at all. When she's had a bad day, when you're stressed, when you haven't got enough time for each other.
𐙚 loves what you love. She'd to her research whenever you seem interested in something.
𐙚 that's a hundred percent how she made you fall in love. Like, you not even talking to her strictly but just to your friends about something you like and then she remembers? And not only that, she also did research? Just to be able to talk more with you?
𐙚 makes Playlists for you. For the two of you, with songs that are special for both or for you, she's just so in love :(
𐙚 adores massages. Scalp and back massages to be more specific. She never ever doubts on not even asking you but placing herself over you/ cuddle and thats how you know she needs one.
𐙚 plans lots of dates and is the most romantic about it? Picnics and movie nights and stuff, religiously every weekend If possible
𐙚 loves going on trips with you.
𐙚 big on holidays, special dates. She’ll make of it a big deal just for you :((
𐙚 her love language is either physical touch or acts of service if not both. This woman is 25/8 at your service.
𐙚 she loves deep. Adores your face your body your voice your everything
𐙚 she definitely learns everything about you, not in a creepy way but in an I wanna know your culture, your favorite food, your thoughts so I can understand you and be there for you all the time
𐙚 you have a pet? She loves them. It's her baby the second you show it to her no matter what it is (ofc if it's a dog she's already on her knees omfg)
𐙚 whenever you're out together she'll be paying attention to you most of the time. Knows when your social battery ran out, knows when you secretly (not so secretly) hate someone. And always makes sure you're comfortable (the type to give you her jacket when it's too cold, her food when you're still hungry, leave a place with the excuse she has shit to do because she knows you're not comfortable with the people or the ambience or whatever)
𐙚 not to bring Owen or the boat scene but I think people forgets she literally fell asleep so... Abby is definitely a big fan of aftercare.
𐙚 I repeat, she's very productive but sleepy and needs you there with her to take ner naps (such a grandpa fr)
𐙚 biggest spoil lover. You want anything you're getting it right here right now
𐙚 wants a family, I said it, do not argue
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OUTBREAK HC'S
𐙚 she's taking you every chance she gets with her (arguing with Isaac to not let you with anyone that's not her)
𐙚 doesn't see the need to bring trinkets for you whenever she goes on patroll or let you bring stuff bcs they just take space, but, she'll find a way to make you the most delicious food, or exchange her own stuff to get you better clothes, shoes, blankets. Anyways, loves 'gifts'
𐙚 whenever you go out, you're either in front of her so she can see you or behind her if there's danger.
𐙚 she hates waking you up whenever she has nightmares but sometimes she can't help but seek for you. Holding your hand in your sleep, cuddling closer, trying to match or focus on your breathing, anything but waking you up :(
𐙚 she trusts you with her life. But also doesn't because she knows your life doesn't really depend on you but on people who could harm you.
𐙚 hates seeing you tired or starving after tough days, even though she knows she'll take care of you or make it easy for you to take care of yourself, she just wishes you could never ever have do anything.
𐙚 lives flirting with you. And then gets too conscious about it bcs of manny
𐙚 she takes holidays seriously and makes sure to celebrate like people used to :(
𐙚 also, celebrates your birthday in the most pretty way, making sure it’s super extremely special for you ever single time
𐙚 very specific, but being accurate to the game. She'll never put you in any danger while searching for Joel. I think that would definitely put the relationship in a risk instead but that would also make her realize how tough the whole situation is, like, she'd be more aware that doing all this could lead her to lose you or vice versa.
𐙚 hates to do it but sometimes (most times) makes you clean the dishes or fold the clothes (you know like what she did with manny, that type of stuff)
𐙚 if you like dogs she's making sure to get you one (like Mel and Alice situation)
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chastiefoul · 9 months ago
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mischievous streak | neuvilette
just another day of you pining over neuvilette and poor wriothesley has to hear all about it. (dw neuvilette makes an appearance!!) fluff. crack. this one is so unserious. 0.7k words
“and when he said ‘oratrice mecanique d'analyse’ did you hear it, wrio?” you swooned, another day of fanning over the iudex of fountaine to your best friend,  wriothesley.
“did you?” the duke replied increduosly, as if not really getting the reason why that was the part you’re fawning over. “oh and when he declared ‘guilty’ verdict with such conviction and charisma to that person, i wished that was me.” you went on, the conversation was most definitely one-sided.
“...you wished that you’re in a court and getting a ‘guilty’ verdict?” he blinked, not knowing how to react when the things you’re saying gets more insane as each day passed. “well not really, but i am certainly guilty. guilty for wanting to climb him like a-“
wriothesley cut you off with an exaggerated cough.
“you finish that sentence and i’m sending you to the authorities.” you crossed your arm, “you’re the authorities.” he sighed, “yes and i’m not above putting cuffs on you and throw you to one of the cell.”
you gasped, “you wouldn’t. you’d put me in jail because of love?”
“insanity is what you are, (y/n). seriously, just talk to him.” he picked up his cup of tea wanting to take another sip. “and what do i say, that i’ve been in love with him since forever and that i’d give him a limb in exchange for a date?”
“sure. or, you could say you want to get to know him a little better, and ask him out for some lunch?” he said, his pen not stopping on checking the piling documents on his table. “but that’s like super obvious!” you retorted.
“and saying you’d give him one of your limb isn’t...?” he gave you a side-eye before getting back to his paper. “hmm, fair point.” you tapped your chin with your finger. “but he doesn’t seem like the type who’d just go out with anyone, no? i don’t think i’ve ever seen him with someone,” you claimed, thinking back to all the times you passed him accidentally by remembering his schedules.
“you’re right, but i don’t think that’s by his choice though. i think some people just got really intimidated by the idea of casually hanging out with the iudex of fountaine.” he shrugged. “what?! that’s not fair, even though he’s really kind hearted?”
the man in front of you gave you a mocking smile. “yeah, and you’d know hm? since you hang out with him so much,” he teased. “i don’t like you, you’re attacking me for no reason.” you grumbled. wriothesley just chuckled good naturedly before you continued.
“gosh but seriously, he should have someone by his side, don’t you think? someone’s who’s supportive, who will stand by him no matter what. you know, someone like me? i would treat him so good. i would make him food all day, draw him a bubble bath-“
a cough cut you off, you’d think it’s wriothesley and his unwillingness to hear your sincerity about your feelings towards neuvilette, but when you see that his expression was just as startled, you shut your lips.
both of you turned your heads to the end of the stairs and there he is.
neuvilette.
yes, the very one you’ve been crushing on since forever, oh and did i mention you just said you’d draw him a bubble bath?
the tip of his ears was visibly rosy, as he looked like he tried so hard not to look embarrassed or even phased. “i was let in by the guard, i didn’t realize there is another guest.”
you closed your eyes, counting slowly to three because perhaps it would be able to turn back time, even just a little. wriothesley was just covering his mouth, and you’d bet the other limb you have that he’s currently trying his harderst to hold back a laugh.
this is a situation. a situation you need to diffuse fast with your quick thinking.
you turned to wriothesley. “that’s why i said duke, not only you don’t need to reduce my sentence, please don’t let me out from this jail forever. i would endanger the civilians. thank you for your time duke wriothesley, i am now going to go back to my cell.”
hearing that was just the last straw for your best friend, he laughed out loud. doubling over and all that as he clutched his stomach. after a solid two minutes of him just laughing and you facepalmed yourself, wriothesley gained his composure.
“neuvilette, meet (y/n), the all-over supervisor of the fortress of meropide.”
you glared at him before giving the long-haired man your sweetest smile.
“hello, it’s nice to finally see you down here in the flesh, monsieur neuvilette.” you nodded at him in which he replied with a slight smile. “likewise and please, just call me neuvilette.”
neuvilette gave wriothesley a document as he immediately skimmed through it. “i see, well there’s nothing here that i can give an input on better than (y/n), this is more of their expertise.” your head turned so quick as if you heard a blaring alarm. “then, i would appreciate your insight on this matter if you have the time,” neuvilette said as looked at you and there’s no way you could say no.
“of course! perhaps over lunch? it’s the right time, no?” you bounced back, now feeling excited than nervous. he chuckled at the enthusiasm as he agreed. “yes, you’re right. but perhaps you should know i’m not ready yet for someone to draw me a bubble bath after just one lunch.” he put his fist over his mouth, covering his smile. so turned out the iudex of fountaine has a mischievous streak in his personality after all.
that’s nice. not for your already beyond embarrassed state, though.
“wriothesley, just arrest me right now please.”  
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woniedarlin · 7 months ago
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A Tale of Crushes and Clumsiness: Yang Jungwon
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pairing: crush!Jungwon x clumsy admirer! reader
synopsis: Jungwon, with his feline eyes and adorable dimples, was the subject of your biggest crush. Who could blame you? So, you frequented the local library, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But one day, in a bold move to get a closer look, you ventured closer, unaware of the chaos your clumsiness was about to unleash.
warnings: Jungwon likes physical affection, a little suggestive, injuries such as a bruise and a broken leg.
note: I decided to make this one inspired by a friend of mine who is very clumsy. As you read, remember that the physical descriptions may not mirror to your own, but the essence of the story remains heartwarming. Happy reading darlings!
caution: Reading may cause a sudden urge to visit your local library and fall in love with the nearest charming bookworm.
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Jungwon was the kind of guy everyone in your small town admired. He had a presence that was hard to ignore—loving, handsome, humble, and a gentleman. The kind of guy you’d see at an airport, exchange a fleeting glance with, and then spend the rest of your life wondering about. His kindness and the way he treated everyone with respect only added to his appeal. Together with his popular friends, they were somewhat of local celebrities.
You had more than just a little crush on him. In fact, you harbored the biggest, fattest crush imaginable. You’d never admit it out loud, though. It was easier to admire him from afar, to steal glances when he wasn’t looking, and to dream about what could never be. Confronting him and confessing your feelings? It was out of the question.
You’d convinced yourself that he was way out of your league. Jungwon deserved someone who was as poised and perfect as he seemed to be. And you? You were the embodiment of clumsiness. You had a knack for tripping over your own feet, spilling drinks, and generally making a mess of yourself. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d embarrassed yourself in front of others. How could someone as composed and well-liked as Jungwon ever notice you, let alone like you?
Dude, you don’t even know if he knew you existed.
  One particular afternoon, you’ve found your usual spot in the library, a secluded corner where you can quietly admire Jungwon from a distance. He’s at his favorite table, surrounded by a fortress of books, his concentration unbroken. You watch him with a small smile, appreciating the way his brow furrows in thought or how he occasionally scribbles notes with quick, precise movements.
Today, though, your heart races more than usual. You crouch down beside a shelf, peeking through the gaps to get a better view. Just as you’re about to lose yourself watching him, his eyes suddenly meet yours.
Panic surges through you. “MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!! HIDE! ”Your mind screams. In your frantic attempt to duck out of sight, your elbow bumps into a stack of books. They tumble to the floor with a resounding crash that echoes through the library.
Your face flushes crimson as you scramble to pick up the fallen books, mortified by the spectacle you’ve just caused. You silently berate yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor.
As if things couldn't get any worse, you glance back up to find Jungwon standing right in front of you, a bemused expression on his face.
You freeze; the embarrassment is overwhelming. Your cheeks are probably an incriminating shade of red. The books in your arms seem to mock you with their titles, "The Art of Subtle Obsession: Hidden Emotions."
You want to sink into the floor right now. He's so close now, his eyes fixed on you. Why does he have to be this good-looking, anyway? And what's with that small smile on his lips?
Jungwon can't help but chuckle, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every flustered movement you make. He watches as you pick up the books and arrange them back on the shelf, each move as uncoordinated as the last. Oblivious to his eyes on you, you continue your efforts with a clumsy haste.
It was endearing, he thought. You were a walking contradiction—equal parts cute and awkward in a way that was undeniably endearing. The way you moved, the way you blushed, and the way you tried to hide your awkward, flustered presence.
Without so much as a greeting, Jungwon extends a hand, a silent gesture for you to stand up. His voice is as melodious as it always was.
“Let me help you with those,” he offers, a hint of warmth in his eyes.
You nod, speechless with nerves. As you accept his hand, a rush of sensations floods through you—the warmth of his skin against yours, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the soft yet firm grip that makes your heart skip a beat.
A moment passes, and Jungwon finally breaks the silence with a soft, melodic chuckle. It's not one of mockery. Instead, it's filled with understanding and warmth.
His eyes sparkle as he speaks, and his voice is gentle. "You know, you could have just come up and said hello. No need for the impressive 'book-falling Olympics' exhibition,"
“What? ”You tilt your head, your heart skipping a beat. Does he know that you were staring at him like a creep?
Jungwon smiles with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "You've been staring at me," he says bluntly, the corners of his lips curving into a wider grin. There's no accusation in his voice, just a casual acceptance.
You freeze, your face flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. It's impossible to deny it. He's caught you. The books in your arms can't hide your secret crush on him.
Amusement dances in Jungwon's gaze as he catches your confusion. He carefully takes the books from your arms and puts them back on the shelves accordingly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You must think I'm completely dense, don't you? I've noticed you peeking at me, you know," he teases, his tone light and friendly. "I've seen you trying to steal glances every time I'm here at the library."
The admission makes your cheeks burn. You feel incredibly exposed, as if he'd pulled back the curtain you'd hidden behind. You stammer, trying to find a coherent response that doesn't make you sound like a total stalker.
“Oh, I’m really sorry. You must feel uncomfortable with the way I stare at you,” you mumble, looking down at your feet.
Jungwon's smile only grew as he gently patted your head. "Uncomfortable? Not at all," he reassures you. His laughter is as melodic as ever. "Quite the opposite. I think it's endearing how much you like watching me. It's flattering, really." His voice is like a gentle melody that washes over you, each word a comforting balm to your nerves. He's not creeped out; he isn't upset. He thinks it's cute!
“I don’t mind your staring. Really. It’s harmless admiration, right? Besides, I understand how hard it is to look away when the view’s so captivating,” Jungwon says, giving you a smile, his dimple showing.
“After all, isn’t it normal to appreciate something beautiful? Like you, for example. You’re quite the stunner yourself. Even when you’re trying—and failing miserably—to fly under the radar.”
“Beautiful? Me? ”You blink at him repeatedly, unable to process his words.
Jungwon chuckles, seemingly amused by your surprise. “You don’t think you’re beautiful? ”He questions you, his gaze roaming over your face. “I happen to disagree. Your skin is radiant, your eyes sparkle like precious jewels, and your lips…” He trails off, his eyes lingering on your mouth for a few beats too long.
“Everything about you. Stunning.”
He pauses, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Should I go on? ”
“I don’t know what to say, to be honest,” you manage to stammer, still reeling from his compliments.
Jungwon grins, clearly enjoying the banter. “You don’t need to say anything. The blush on your cheeks speaks volumes,” he teases, his eyes soft and warm. “It’s nice to know I can make you blush, though. Not many people can do that, you know.”
He reaches out a hand, gently fixing your bangs. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, like a kitten, all flustered and fuzzy.”
You muster a bit of courage and respond, “You look like a kitten yourself, and you should know that a lot of people admire you too. Not just me.”
Jungwon shakes his head, his cheeks coloring slightly under your words. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know. Keep it up, and you might just win my heart," he says in a half-joking manner, clearly touched by your compliment. "In all honesty, though, I've gotten more than my fair share of attention. But to have yours? Someone as fascinating as you, quietly watching me from the sidelines? That's a different kind of thrill."
His words make your heart flutter, and you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “Really? ”
“Really, really,” Jungwon confirms, his grin widening and his eyes sparkling with warmth and honesty.
“The way you secretly watch me, it’s adorable. The way you tried to hide from me just now with those books and ended up making a cute mess? I could watch you blushing and fumbling all day,” he admits, a playful glint in his eyes.
You can’t help but chuckle nervously at his words, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his observation.
“Is it weird that I’d love to be the object of your focus? Your ‘fascination’? You’re just different. You see me in a way that makes my heart race,” he continues, his tone sincere and genuine.
He looks directly into your eyes as he smiles, his dimple deepening and his gaze unwavering. “So, how about we get coffee together? I’d love to hear more about you.”
You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you blush, nodding in a fast manner. “Yes, I do,” you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jungwon's smile widens into a cheerful grin, his eyes lighting up at your agreement. “Perfect!'' he exclaims, holding out a hand for you to take, ''There's a quaint café not far from here. The coffee's the best you'll ever have, and they bake the most delicious pastries. Let's go; I'll even pay.” He gently intertwines his fingers with yours, his touch light and warm.
  For months, you get to know Jungwon on a deeper level, just as he is getting to know you. You two would spend time together, often finding yourselves back at the library where it all began. Sitting closely together, it became a habit for Jungwon to hold your hand underneath the table while both of you lost yourselves in books or even shared a book, your heads close together as you whispered and laughed over the pages.
Today, it was Jungwon’s birthday. He had a small gathering planned with his family and closest friends, but he also wanted some alone time with you afterward. You were confused by the request, but since it was his special day, you complied. He wanted to visit you at your house to celebrate another birthday on the same day, in your own space. So, you told him to come at 7 p.m.
Your place was a disaster. Specifically, your kitchen resembled a war zone, splattered with flour and batter. You were in the midst of attempting to bake a strawberry shortcake for him. You knew it was a risky move—having no experience in baking—but you were determined to make something special, knowing Jungwon’s fondness for strawberries. Panic set in as the clock ticked closer to 7 p.m., and you were still adding whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top of the barely baked cake. It was a messy affair, and you felt like a complete novice.
  Then the doorbell rang.
  Your heart sank. The cake looked hideous, and you, yourself, were covered in flour from head to toe. You place the cake on the dinner table, putting candles and lighting each. You had no choice; you didn’t want to keep Jungwon waiting. So, with a guilty face, you hurried to the door and opened it, bracing yourself for his reaction.
There he stood, looking handsome in a casual shirt and jeans. His smile widened as he took in your appearance, the mess of flour on your cheeks, and the guilt on your face. But instead of mockery or disappointment, all you saw was affection and warmth.
“Well, don’t you look like a walking piece of art? ”He teased, his tone light and playful. “The artist at work, I suppose? ”
He stepped inside, his grin never wavering as he took in the state of the kitchen and the messy cake on the table before wrapping you in a tight embrace.
‘’…don’t hug me. I’m a mess. Your clothes will get flour,’’ you said, worried, attempting to push him away gently.
Jungwon laughs, unaffected by your warning. Instead of pulling away, he holds you even tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His laughter vibrates through you, tickling your skin.
“Oh, you sweet, considerate soul,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.
Jungwon chuckles, his hands gently squeezing your waist. “It’s okay; I don’t mind a little flour on my clothes. Besides, you look adorable like this. A tiny little baker with a big heart.”
He pauses, his eyes filled with warmth. “But mostly, I just wanted an excuse to hold you close, kitten.”
‘’Well, happy birthday, Jungwon,’’ you say softly, feeling a warm rush of affection for him.
Jungwon’s smile widens at your words, happiness shining through his eyes. “Thank you, kitten,” he whispers, holding you close with his arms wrapped around your midriff.
“But I should be the one thanking you,” he adds. “You put all of this effort into baking me a cake, and you look so darn cute while doing it. I’m a lucky man.”
He presses a gentle kiss on your neck, relishing the closeness between you.
You look at the cake, feeling a bit sheepish. ‘’Um.. Wanna blow out the candle? ’’
Jungwon follows your gaze, his eyes landing on the messy, lopsided cake with a single candle on top.
“Absolutely,” he grins, his eyes filled with delight.
He gives you a wry smile. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just see you light it a few minutes ago.”
He pulls away from the hug slightly, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he leans forward towards the cake. With practiced ease, he blows out the candle, his breath sending a gust of air that extinguishes the small flame. As he does, he murmurs a silent wish, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile.
Jungwon stands back up, his arm still wrapped around your waist. He looks at you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. He rubs his thumb over the small of your back, a gentle gesture, before he speaks again.
“Well done, little baker,” he chuckles, a teasing lilt in his voice. “That cake might be a mess, but let me tell you, it’s the sweetest mess I’ve ever seen.”
He reaches forward, gently swipes some batter off your cheek, and pops his thumb into his mouth with a wink.
“And quite appetizing too.”
You giggle, feeling a rush of warmth at his playful antics. ‘’Now you got flour on your clothes,’’ you point out.
Jungwon shrugs with a mischievous smile, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Who cares about my clothes? They’re just going to end up on the floor anyway,” he says cheekily, raising an eyebrow and giving you a suggestive smirk.
“More importantly, I’ve got you, kitten. I’m happy as long as I’m in your company.”
You blush at his words, feeling a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Unable to meet his gaze, you hide your face in his chest, feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat comfort you.
Jungwon lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. With one arm still wrapped around your waist, he uses his free hand to gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his.
“Don’t hide that adorable blush, kitten. It’s one of my favorite sights,” he murmurs. His thumb strokes your cheek delicately.
“Besides, I’m quite enjoying this hug.”
‘’Well, since I kind of screwed up the cake, is there anything I could do to make up for it? ’’ You said, tilting your head.
Jungwon chuckles, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looks at you with a fond gaze. “Kitten, the cake didn’t turn out the way you hoped, sure. But it’s still a sweet gesture and the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a while. Besides, you did your best, and I love you for it,” he teases, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip.
“Honestly, the sight of you in this outfit, covered in flour and looking utterly cute, is more than enough compensation. But if you really want, maybe you could be mine. That would be the best gift ever.”
‘’What? ..’’ you said, feeling a rush of surprise and warmth.
Jungwon laughs softly, realizing you might not have completely grasped the depth of his words. He gently cups your face with one hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek.
“I’m talking about us, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender. “Be mine. Officially. Be my partner, my other half. I know it’s a bit sudden, but I can’t hold the feeling back anymore. I need you to know how much you mean to me.”
‘’Of course…I..I’d love to,’’ you said, your heart racing with joy and love.
Jungwon’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected response; the surprise is soon replaced by a wide, radiant smile. His eyes shine with happiness, and his dimples deepen as he pulls your body closer to his, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He pours all his emotions into the kiss, the love and affection he feels for you overflowing like a river breaking free from its dam.
He pulls away slightly, breathless but elated, a look of adoration in his eyes.
“I love you, kitten. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling like the luckiest person in the world to have him by your side.
Jungwon beams at your words, his eyes lighting up with joy and relief. He presses a series of soft, tender kisses all over your face. He whispers the words “I love you” between each kiss, each declaration punctuated with a brush of his lips against your skin.
  You two fell deeper in love with each passing day, building a serious and meaningful relationship that brought joy and fulfillment to both of your lives. You reached milestones together, including meeting each other’s parents, a moment that was truly beautiful and heartwarming. Jungwon adored your clumsiness, seeing it as a charming part of who you were, but he also worried about you, especially when you got injured, whether it was a small bruise or a more serious mishap like when you broke your leg after misstepping on the stairs. He was by your side at the hospital, his heart aching with worry and fear, his tears flowing as if he were the one in pain.
Today was like any other day, filled with plans to spend time together. You had decided to bake cookies at your place, but as you prepared to start, you realized you had forgotten the flour. With a sigh, you began to put on your shoes, intending to make a quick trip to the grocery store. Jungwon offered to come with you, his concern evident in his eyes, but you reassured him that you could handle it on your own.
“Don’t worry, baby! I’ll be here in no time. It’s just flour,” you said with a smile, trying to ease his worries as you opened the front door.
As Jungwon watched you open the door, a slight frown creased his forehead. Being protective of you was second nature to him, and he couldn’t shake the worry that something might happen during your quick errand. He tried to suppress his concern, however, not wanting to come off as overbearing.
Giving you a small smile, his eyes still tinged with worry, he spoke softly, his voice laced with concern. “Be careful, kitten. Take it easy and text me if anything happens.”
With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he reluctantly let you go, his heart heavy with worry, until you returned safely home.
Jungwon knew he should trust you, but his worry was overpowering. It had only been five minutes since you left, but he was already getting sick with worry. Glancing anxiously at the front door, he couldn’t shake the images of worst-case scenarios playing out in his mind—what could happen to you on the way to the grocery store, at the store itself, or on the way back home? He doesn’t want his kitten to get more injuries.
After a moment of not-so-careful thought, he immediately put on his shoes and dashed towards the grocery store. His heart raced with each step, the fear of something happening to you driving him forward, determined to find you and ensure your safety.
As Jungwon rushed towards the grocery store, his heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his thoughts positive, hoping that you were doing fine and that he was overthinking the situation. But no matter how much he reassured himself, he couldn’t shake the worry that something was wrong. Reaching the grocery store, Jungwon quickly searched for you in the aisles, his gaze fixated on the shelves and the people passing by. He called your name, scanning the place for any sight of you, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.
“Kitten? Kitten? Where are you? ”He called out, his voice tinged with urgency, his heart racing as he desperately searched for any sign of you amidst the bustling store.
As Jungwon’s voice echoed through the store, you were oblivious to his calls, lost in your own world at the back section, scrutinizing the sacks of flour on the shelves. Your focus was solely on choosing the right one, unaware of the worry creeping into Jungwon’s heart as he searched for you.
As Jungwon walked through the store, his eyes darted from aisle to aisle as he called out your name, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. Frustration and worry grew within him, but he refused to give up. He finally reached the back section of the store, and there you were, standing in front of the shelves, completely engrossed in choosing flour.
A wave of relief washed over Jungwon as he saw you there, unharmed and safe. His heart finally began to settle, and he immediately closed the distance between you.
He approached you slowly, standing just behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as he rested his chin on your shoulder, making you flinch at the touch.
“Kitten,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. “You scared me. I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you.”
He tightened his grip, his concern evident in his touch. “Kitten, I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I was so worried. Why weren’t you answering my calls? ”
‘’Baby? Why are you here? ’’ You said in shock.
Jungwon tightens his hold, his fingers splaying against your stomach.
“Why do you think, kitten? I was so worried. I couldn’t stay put, knowing you were out there alone. I had to see you safe,” he mumbles, his voice filled with relief and concern.
He presses a series of soft kisses on your cheek, his breath slightly shaky. “Promise me next time you’ll bring me with you. Or text me the whole time.”
‘’Ok.. I promise,’’ you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his caring gesture.
Jungwon nods, his embrace relaxing slightly, but he still keeps you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His fingers gently rub circles on your stomach, a soothing gesture.
“Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss on your neck. “I’m glad you’re safe. I love you, you know that?”
‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling the love and warmth in his words wash over you.
Jungwon turns you around to face him, his gaze soft and loving. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing over the contours of your cheeks.
“I love you with everything I am; you know that? Seeing you safe has eased my worries. Now, let’s get that flour and head back home. You got anything else on the list, kitten? ”
‘’Well, just the flour. Let’s purchase this first,’’ you said, feeling grateful for his presence and love as you both continued with your errand, knowing that you were always there for each other through thick and thin.
Jungwon nods, giving you another heartfelt kiss before taking your hand into his.
“Alright, let’s grab that flour and get out of here. I can’t wait to get you back home.”
He leads you to the checkout counter, carrying the chosen bag of flour, his grip on your hand never loosening. Once you’ve paid, you both leave the supermarket, walking back towards your home.
“I was so worried,” he admits, his grip slightly tighter on your hand as you walk.
‘’You might be overreacting,’’ you tease him, enjoying the playful banter between you.
Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He bumps his hip into you playfully. “Am I? Maybe. But I can’t help it. You’re just so clumsy, kitten. Can you blame me for being so worried? ”He teases, his tone filled with affection.
As you both walk, Jungwon rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Hey, you never know! You’re the biggest magnet for trouble I’ve ever seen. I just couldn’t sit there doing nothing while your cute little butt was out there somewhere. I don’t exactly want to see my wife injured again. The hospital traumatized me enough.”
‘’Wife? ’’ You said, surprised by his choice of words.
Jungwon chuckles at your reaction, his smile growing wider. “Of course you’re going to be my wife someday, aren’t you, kitten? ”He murmurs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your cheek.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he continues. “The wedding, the ring, our future. I don’t want anyone else. I’m madly in love with you.” He presses a tender kiss on your cheek.
‘’I’m madly in love with you too, my husband,’’ you said, a playful glint in your eye.
Upon hearing your remark, Jungwon’s cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat. “Oh, so I’m your husband now, huh? ”He teases, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Is that so, kitten? ”
He laughs. “Guess I have to live up to the role, huh? I’ll be the best husband ever,” he whispers, his voice soft and tender.
He gently tugs you closer, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, full of promise and affection. He holds you tightly in his arms, knowing that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.
  As you walk hand in hand with Jungwon, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as clumsy as you thought—you just needed the right person to catch you.
548 notes · View notes
locomoqo · 2 months ago
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flowery whispers
— goo kim x reader
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summary: In a kingdom full of secrets and strict rules, the Empress starts to feel a connection with her playful royal guard, Goo. What begins as small moments and quiet exchanges slowly grows into something deeper, though neither of them dares to say it out loud. Until one night, the constant pressure finally makes one of them crack.
details: NSFW content, afab reader, historical au (specifically joseon dynasty), bodyguard trope, infidelity, p in v sex, unprotected, oral (f receiving), brief mention of masturbation
wc: 6.2k whew
a/n: i am putting all the blame on all the historical kdrama ive been watching + bridgerton + bodyguard goo brainrot WHOOPIEEE there's a gun or maybe even jake fic forming in my head as i was writing this but hey save that for another time ppl are waiting for their reqs
if you liked this, pls reblog with your like, tyyy mwa mwa!
and ofc i cant forget to tag my gorgeous mutual @jonggunkitten
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The Empress. 
A title you would never have expected to bear. Your family, ever ambitious, had pushed you into the emperor’s selection, hoping to gain even more power than they already possessed. Poor child, a victim of your family’s relentless hunger for influence. Yet, you still remember how your mother had cradled your face so gently before you left, whispering praises and wishes for your success. Against the odds, you passed the selection and became one of the emperor’s consorts. You would have been satisfied with such a position, even considered yourself lucky to have reached that far. But it wasn’t over.
With your new position came the brutal competition to become the empress. Unlike the other consorts, you had no desire for the role and instead kept to yourself, spending days in the library, doing embroidery, or walking in the garden. You found these “glorified” days as a consort increasingly mundane.
Ironically, your actions—or lack thereof—seemed to intrigue the emperor. He arranged private meetings, allowing you to know him better, only for you to find him… lacking. A self-centered, somewhat dim-witted man, the emperor relied almost exclusively on his advisors' counsel. He would crack jokes, and though you didn’t find them particularly amusing, the other consorts would laugh enthusiastically. Nevertheless, the competition ended with the emperor declaring you as his empress.
Normally, one would rejoice, perhaps even celebrate, at such news. But you felt no such thrill—instead, a sense of dread crept into your stomach. Though the emperor was not a bad man, becoming Empress brought on responsibilities you weren’t prepared to shoulder. You knew that soon, the court would pressure you about an heir. And no matter your own feelings, the emperor was equally persistent in his desire for a child.
You tried, half-heartedly at best, yet no child came. Soon, even your minimal efforts turned to nothing. It was then that the royal physician was summoned, and one dreaded word hung in the air after his examination.
Infertile.
One word, yet it changed everything.
You lay in bed that night, clutching the blankets tightly as the word “infertile” repeated in your mind. Rumors spread fast in the palace, of course. You could feel the scrutinizing stares from advisors and hear the hushed whispers from the other consorts. Rumors circulated that the emperor was considering replacing you with someone who could provide an heir.
Then, as if your troubles weren't enough, your father visited, but not with comfort. Instead, he gave you a scolding, his gaze filled with cold disappointment, an expression that lingered in your mind long after he left. Exhausted and stifled by these thoughts, you threw the covers off, dressed in a light robe, and decided to take a walk under the night sky. The moon shone brightly, casting its silvery glow over the earth—a good night for a walk, you thought.
You navigated the palace grounds carefully, avoiding guards and servants, not wanting anyone to stop you. Eventually, you found yourself in the palace gardens, a familiar refuge. The air felt cool against your skin, and you drifted toward the pond, noting how much livelier the garden appeared compared to your last visit. Lotus flowers bloomed on the water’s surface, and you crouched down, gently touching one of the petals.
“At least one of us looks lively,” you murmured to the flower, watching your reflection in the water. “What am I doing, talking to flowers?” you chortled to yourself, straightening up. “They’ll call me mad next.” You could imagine the servants gossiping if they caught you conversing with plants.
A sudden rustling made you turn, spotting a blond tabby cat slipping out from the bushes. It padded across the stone wall, pausing to look at you. With a glance over your shoulder, you made sure no one else was around before softly approaching the cat.
“Good evening,” you greeted the cat, immediately wincing at how silly it sounded. “Or, I mean, hello there.” The cat continued to stare at you. “Off somewhere, are you? Somewhere better than here?” you asked, almost answering your own question. The cat let out a soft meow.
“Oh, me? I’m...busy with matters, as usual—mostly with babies,” you mumbled, feeling a slight pang of irony in your words.
The cat meowed again, watching intently.
“Does it get tiring? Well, it certainly does.”
Another meow.
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but... I don’t even know what to do anymore.”
The cat meowed again, and you nodded as if it understood. “Running away, you say?” you laughed quietly. “As if I could. They’d have my head. And my family would be dragged down with me.” You paused, a spark of rebellion igniting. “But what if… what if I faked my death? I could stage it—leave behind some blood, tattered clothes… they’d think I’d been killed. I’d be free.” You whispered the words as if saying them aloud made it more plausible.
The cat tilted its head, seemingly judging your plan. You scowled playfully. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a good plan,” you muttered, testing the vines to see if they might hold your weight.
“Sounds awfully impulsive.”
“It’s not—” You froze, instantly releasing the vine. Patting down your skirts, you slowly turned to see a tall, blond man standing behind you, a smirk on his face. Recognition flickered—you’d seen him before among the emperor’s personal guards.
“Your majesty,” he greeted, his tone far too casual for someone addressing the empress. “It’s a bit late for a walk, don’t you think?”
His informal tone surprised you. Struggling to find words and maintain composure, you finally spoke. “I—I was only…surveying the garden. Yes, making sure the gardener is up to standard.” You straightened, hoping to maintain an air of authority.
“Right. Because inspecting vines is vital at this hour.” He only grinned wider. He chuckled, bowing slightly. “Ah, where are my manners? Junggoo Kim, one of his majesty’s personal guards.” His introduction was polite, but the mischievous glint in his eyes made you wary.
“Junggoo…” you muttered, still thrown by his demeanor.
“Goo, if you’d like,” he added, seemingly oblivious to any formalities.
The thought that he’d overheard you talking to a cat—or worse, discussing escape plans—made your face heat up. “You won’t… tell the emperor, will you?” you asked cautiously. His grin widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, your majesty. Consider it our little secret.”
You stared at him for a moment, suspicion creeping in. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I have nothing to gain by exposing you. Treason doesn’t suit me, plus I’d hate to be painted in such a negative light in the eyes of my empress.” He held up his hands in a show of innocence. Reluctantly, you nodded, brushing past him. “I should get back then, before anyone else sees me.” You tried to sound dignified, but he easily kept pace beside you.
“Going so soon?” he quipped, feigning disappointment.
“Why are you following me?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.
“It’s part of my duty to guard the royal family, not just his majesty,” he replied smoothly.
You shot him a sidelong glare. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much. We’re within palace grounds; there’s hardly any danger.”
He shrugged, that amused glint still in his eyes. “Oddly confident, aren’t you, your majesty?”
“And you’re oddly informal,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.
With exaggerated dramatics, he clutched his heart as if wounded. “My sincerest apologies.”
After a few moments, you arrived back at your chambers. Turning to face him, you found him still smiling, that same relaxed, teasing expression. “Apology accepted,” you said coolly, stepping into your room. The door closed, and you couldn’t help but smile at the odd encounter. He was, indeed, an odd man.
It wouldn’t be the last time you’d meet him. Just a few weeks later, the court held another meeting regarding updates, and yet again, you dreaded it. They could be discussing far more important topics—like addressing the needs of people in the nation’s more remote regions—but instead, the focus was on you. Heir this, heir that; it was as if they saw you as nothing more than a child-bearing machine. All the endless chatter made you excuse yourself from the meeting, eager to escape the countless prying eyes.
That night, you found yourself back in the garden, attempting, once more, to assess the climb.
"Checking the vines again, your majesty?" A voice rang out, making you flinch before quickly turning around. But you relaxed at the sight of Goo standing there once again.
"What are you doing here?" you asked, suspicion and confusion evident in your tone.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he chuckled, stepping closer, but with a respectful distance.
After a moment’s pause, you finally replied, “...Yes, I’m checking the vines again.” You glanced back at the wall, feeling a bit foolish. He hummed thoughtfully.
“Well, your majesty, if you ever need help with gardening, I could lend a hand—I may know a thing or two.” He offered with a wink, his grin widening as you rolled your eyes.
“Gardening doesn’t seem to be part of a guard’s duty. Or is it an interest of yours?” you teased, plucking a dry leaf from a vine.
"Neither," he replied with a shrug, which only made you smile more. "But you see a pretty thing struggling, you’d offer to help, wouldn’t you?”
“You don’t seem like the type to help people,” you noted, eyeing him with a smirk.
“Normally, I’d charge them for my assistance,” he said nonchalantly.
"So if I were to ask for your help, you’d charge me, too?”
“I’d make an exception,” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh, bringing a hand to cover your mouth.
“Oh, I’m serious!” he insisted, trying to feign offense. “Business is business!”
The more you laughed, the more you saw his exaggerated pout, and you dabbed the corners of your eyes with your sleeve. “Aren’t royal guards supposed to be loyal to the family?”
“Not all guards fit that description,” he said, watching you with a curious glint in his eye.
“Do you realize how much trouble you’d be in if this conversation reached his majesty?” you whispered, leaning in.
“Are you going to tell him?” he challenged, leaning in just as closely. “...No,” you whispered back, and his satisfied grin made your stomach flutter. "Since we both seem to have secrets," he suggested, “how about we consider each other… acquaintances?"
You raised an eyebrow, amused by his straightforwardness. “Acquaintances, huh?”
“Sure, I could lend you an ear, or a hand. Maybe even a knife,” he quipped, his casual shrug somehow sincere.
“You’re a peculiar man,” you observed with a shake of your head. “Are you even meant to be in the inner circle of the royal guards?”
Goo gasped, putting a hand to his chest in exaggerated offense. “You wound me, your majesty! I’ll have you know, I am very proficient in martial arts and fiercely loyal to—” he paused, “...my duty.”
“The family?” you pressed.
“Protecting the family, not necessarily the family itself,” he replied, his expression unreadable.
You raised both eyebrows. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the king’s quarters?”
“Not my shift,” he answered simply. A beat of silence stretched between you both.
“So, what do you say? Wouldn’t you like to spill all your woes to someone?” he offered, leaning against the wall with a smirk. You considered it. It wasn’t such a bad idea, really; inside the palace, there was barely anyone to talk to—not even your personal servants. “Are you trying to gain something out of this?” you asked, studying his face.
“Must every relationship be transactional?” he retorted, feigning injury once more.
“You’re the one who mentioned business earlier,” you reminded him.
“I already told you—I’d make an exception,” he said, both hands placed on his chest as if to prove his innocence. His antics were so out of place here in the palace, more fitting for a comedian than a guard. Perhaps that was why he felt oddly safe.
“Well then,” you relented, “I’ll think about it.” You glanced toward the palace. “Now, it’s time for me to get back to my room.” You heard his footsteps fall in line beside you. “And I suppose you’ll be escorting me?”
“Part of my duty.” He shrugged, flashing you another one of his mischievous smiles.
And, from that moment on, you noticed his presence everywhere. Whether it was outside the emperor’s quarters or by the entrance to the court meetings, there he’d be, flashing you that same, all-too-familiar grin. Over time, his presence became a quiet comfort, something warm in the midst of the palace’s frigid decorum.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you made your way to the garden—only to find him already there. Smoothing your clothes, you cleared your throat. “You beat me to my own spot.”
“Gut feeling told me you’d be around here tonight, your majesty,” he replied, turning to face you. “Here to inspect the garden again? Still not up to your standards?”
You shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. “No, I came looking for someone willing to lend an ear,” you admitted. “Or maybe a hand.”
“Or a knife?” he added, his quiet chuckle warming the cool evening air.
You laughed softly. “Yes, something like that.”
"Alright, I’m all yours. What’s on your mind?” he asked, his gaze softening as he watched you.
Sitting down on a nearby stone bench, you glanced at him before finally speaking. “Do you ever feel… trapped in your own skin?” The question came out softer than you intended, your hands clenched tightly in your lap. You let out a humorless laugh, “Of course you wouldn’t,” you added quickly, glancing down.
“Go on,” he encourages, his gaze steady on you, hanging onto your every word. His casual posture is contrasted by the intensity in his eyes as if he’s seeing through every layer you keep hidden.
You take a deep breath and continue, venting out the weight you’ve carried since becoming empress. “They’re calling me infertile!” you say, frustration and bitterness lacing your words. “It’s not even official, but you know how the court operates. The moment the physician spoke, the rumors took root. To them, his word is as good as the truth,” you finish with a defeated sigh, burying your face in your hands.
“Funny,” he muses with a bluntness that makes you peek out from between your fingers, “I always thought it was the emperor who had… issues.”
The statement makes you lift your head abruptly, staring at him. “What?”
He shrugs, looking off to the side as though he’s recalling something from memory. “I heard one of the physicians say there might be… something wrong with him.” His tone is casual, almost as if retelling a trivial story. But you know better; there’s something in his voice that hints at sincerity.
Rendered speechless, you just stare. He takes a step closer, studying you with an intensity that feels unsettling but comforting. “A theory,” he says, “is just a fancy way of saying a guess, don’t you think?” With gentle confidence, he places a finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze. “You’re the empress. You know your own worth. Why let them talk down to you?”
His words, laced with a playful smile, bring a faint blush to your cheeks. Embarrassed, you turn your head away, making him raise both hands in mock surrender. “Apologies, your majesty,” he offers, though there’s little sincerity in his tone. If anything, the glint in his eye suggests he’s thoroughly amused.
From that night on, a subtle yet undeniable bond begins to form between you. You seek him out, not just as a confidant but as someone who truly understands you beyond your title. He becomes your solace, the one constant amidst the coldness of palace life. And he’s there, unwavering, standing by your side as though he’s known you far longer than the palace walls would ever allow.
Goo feels himself teetering on the edge of a line he knows he shouldn’t cross. In truth, he suspects he’s already overstepped it. You may not realize it, but he’s been curious about you for a while now. He’s never given much thought to the royal family—until you arrived in the picture.
His first encounter with you in the garden left a lingering impression, an unexpected warmth stirring within him. At first, he brushed it off as pity, something any decent person would feel for someone in your position. But when the second encounter came, and you smiled at him, it took him off guard. Had he ever seen you smile before? He didn't think so.
After that, he couldn’t help but notice more about you—the way your eyes carried a hidden sadness, the elegance with which you held yourself even under the constant pressure. And when you began confiding in him, sharing your burdens, he couldn’t stop himself from caring. Oh, you poor thing, he thought to himself. Such a beautiful soul wasting your tears on someone as undeserving as the emperor. He knew of the rumors too, the whispers that floated through the halls as he passed the other consorts, women murmuring about how you’d lost your worth, how you’d be replaced soon. The emperor would be a fool to discard someone like you, but it wasn’t his place to decide that. Yet, he couldn’t shake his resentment toward the man, or the anger he felt for those who dared to insult you.
Goo knew he should keep his distance, staying within the boundaries of his duty, but it wasn’t easy. As much as he tried, his thoughts would drift to you in moments of solitude. And that was when he found himself in dangerous territory, unable to keep the rising emotions at bay. Despite knowing better, he let his imagination wander, fingers tracing along the growing need in his undergarments. He closed his eyes, your face in his mind, his hand moving in rhythm as he pictured you. Curses mixed with murmurs of your name escaped his lips as he imagined it was your touch that brought him pleasure, not his own. The thought of you, his empress, haunted him in ways he couldn’t control.
Then, one evening, it happened. 
The moonlight filtered softly through the silk curtains of your chambers as you sat by the window, lost in thought. Goo had been by your side for long now, his loyalty unwavering, his presence strangely comforting. But the more you let yourself linger in his warmth, the more dangerous it became—for both of you.
When you heard the quiet creak of your door, you knew it was him. He’d been on duty outside, and no doubt, he’d noticed your mood the moment he’d seen your expression that evening.
“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was as light and easy as ever, yet there was a softness there, a familiarity that made your heart ache.
You shook your head, managing a small smile. “Goo… maybe it’s best if you’re not seen coming here so often. People are starting to notice.”
He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with a faint smirk, his blond hair catching the moonlight. “You’re worried about me? That's a first.”
“I’m serious, Goo.” You stood, folding your hands tightly to keep from reaching for him. “If they see us together this often, people will start talking. The emperor… he won’t be merciful if he thinks there’s reason to doubt my loyalty.”
Goo’s smirk faded, his expression growing serious. “Let them talk. It's not like I've ever cared for all the mindless rumors.”
“Your job is to protect the emperor, not…” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, knowing how much it revealed. But the unspoken words hung between you, charged with the tension you’d both been avoiding.
He took a slow step forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “Not what? Get close to you? Be around you, care about you? If that’s what you’re afraid of, then maybe I’m not the one who should be pulling away.”
“Goo…” you whispered, the plea in your voice as much for him as it was for yourself. But he wasn’t listening. He took another step closer, the air between you crackling with unspoken words, unvoiced desires.
“Do you think I care about the risks?” His voice was low, the usual humor stripped away, leaving only raw determination. “If the emperor’s men come for me, so be it. I’ll face a thousand of them, you know I can hold up in a fight just fine.”
“Then you’re a fool,” you murmured, but your words wavered, betraying the emotions you’d fought so hard to keep hidden.
You looked at him with a vulnerability that pulled him in, and he felt his restraint slipping. You were close, so close that he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in. It was just a kiss—soft, tentative, barely there. But the taste of your lips was unlike anything he’d ever felt, a whisper of heaven he hadn’t known he could touch. For a moment, he understood why people lose themselves in loyalty to nobility.
The kiss was never spoken of, but it became the unspoken acknowledgment of something deeper. Afterward, you part with a soft kiss to his cheek, and he bids you goodbye with a kiss to the back of your hand. It’s dangerous, he knows that. It’s wrong. But he couldn’t help himself; with each stolen moment, each quiet meeting, his longing grew. He knew he was being greedy, wanting what he shouldn’t, yet he couldn’t ignore the desire building inside him—the desire to want you entirely for himself.
One evening, he found you crying. You sat in your room, your face buried in your hands, tears staining your cheeks. His heart ached at the sight, and he moved toward you without thinking. Crouching beside you, he gently lifted your chin, making you look at him.
“It’s my parents,” you whispered, voice shaking. “They came to visit, and… it didn’t go well. It feels like they see me as the problem—as if everything wrong stems from me when, for all they know, it could be the emperor who’s to blame.” You let out a quiet sob, a broken sound that made something snap inside him.
Without a second thought, he cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that kept falling. 
There’s a brief silence before he speaks, his gaze steady, softened in a way that’s rare for him. “All this talk about duty and expectations…” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lifts, trailing softly along your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the moment. “If it were up to me, I’d tell you to let it all go. To do whatever makes you happy.”
You feel your heart catch at his words, your breath hitching. “What would you have me do, then?” you ask, voice barely audible.
“Simple,” he says, his lips curving into a hint of a smile, one hand moving to rest on the curve of your waist. “You’d just… stay here. Let someone else worry about it all for once.” He leans in, close enough that his breath mingles with yours. “Forget all those rules, let go of every plan and just… be here.”
There’s a beat of silence, thick and heavy, his thumb tracing gentle circles along your cheek. “Goo…” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in, mingling with the warmth that’s building between you.
“Besides,” he murmurs, his tone teasing yet low, almost reverent. “Who’d dare to question the Empress herself? If there’s any risk to be taken, let it be mine.” His voice grows softer as his fingers slide to rest along your jaw, cradling your face. “Just say the word.”
Your heart races at the promise in his words, his gaze unwavering as the distance between you vanishes. His lips hover just a breath away as he gently guides you to lay back.
A shiver runs through you, the deliberate slowness of his touch sending thrills down your spine. You exhale softly, the weight of his palm grounding you as his fingers trace the edge of your jeogori’s collar, lingering as if memorizing every fold of the fabric.
His thumb dips beneath the edge, nudging it back so it slips from your shoulders, revealing a sliver of skin. His breath hitches—a subtle, almost imperceptible reaction—but it’s enough to make your pulse flutter. His gaze darkens, roaming over the exposed skin as his fingers trace your contours, each touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.
“You’re quiet,” he whispers, his tone carrying a subtle challenge. “Empress.”
The faintest smile tugs at your lips, a spark of daring stirring within you. “And you talk too much,” you counter softly, placing your hand over his and guiding it lower. His thumb brushes over your fingers in a silent, mutual agreement.
He chuckles lowly, his face so close that his nose brushes against yours. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his lips hovering a breath away, close enough for you to feel their warmth. “I could show you better than I could tell you…”
His hand cups your breast, his head lowering to capture the sensitive peak of the other in his mouth. His thumb teases one while his tongue flicks over the other, attention divided yet equally intoxicating. Your fingers tangle in his hair and clutch his shoulders, soft moans escaping you.
He pulls back, his lips leaving heated trails as he begins to nip at your skin. A gasp escapes you when he bites down, harder this time. “Goo!” you whisper, smacking his shoulder lightly.
“What?” he grins, unabashed. “I can’t leave marks where they’ll see, so I might as well make the most of what I can, right?”
You roll your eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “Don’t be like that,” he purrs, pressing kisses lower with every movement. His hands glide down your sides, fingers gripping your hips gently. He pauses, eyes lifting to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, your lips pressed into a small line as you watch him disappear between your legs.
The guilt and worry gnawing at you seem to vanish the moment he lowers his head. His warm breath brushes your folds before his tongue flattens against you, licking slow, deliberate stripes. A shaky breath escapes you as he savors you, his groan vibrating against your skin as he slurps at your arousal.
His tongue delves into you, mapping every sensitive part of your cunt with unhurried precision. The mix of his mouth and fingers—one sliding into you, then two—leaves you breathless. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his face. His eyes flick up to yours, satisfaction gleaming as he watches every gasp, every moan, every sign of pleasure that is his doing. His empress, shattering apart before him. It drives him to give you more. He needs more.
Your hand grips his hair as you whimper, “Please, please, don’t stop.” Your legs tighten around his head, and you feel his grin against your core before he presses a kiss to your clit, devouring you whole. It’s dizzying, overwhelming, everything all at once. His tongue and fingers work in harmony, unraveling you until you come undone, your juices spilling over his taste buds.
Goo pulls away, licking your release from the corner of his lips. You pull his face to yours, your mouths crashing together, tasting yourself on him.
“Under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to hear you,” he mumbles against your lips.
You hum, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. “That is called greed,” you tease, your hands eagerly tugging at his clothes.
“What you’re doing is called greed,” he counters with a grin, his lips finding your neck as he helps shed his garments. Once bare, he meets your gaze, vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “You… you’re absolutely sure about this?”
Your hands cup his face as you nod. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”
He searches your eyes for a moment before kissing you again. Lining himself up with your entrance, he moves slowly, the stretch pulling soft moans from your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders as your eyes flutter open, meeting the all-too-familiar ceiling—the one you’d rather not remember tonight.
“Wait—wait,” you whisper, tapping his shoulder. He pauses, brows raising in question.
“Just…” you adjust, shifting to straddle him. “Better,” you say, a smile on your lips as you begin to move.
He lets out a soft groan, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. “Better,” he agrees, his voice reverent as your walls embrace him, squeezing deliciously around him. His hips rise to meet yours, each motion driving you both closer to the edge.
Your rhythm quickens, every glide of your hips igniting sparks between you. Goo’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingertips digging into your flesh, guiding you as if the two of you were caught in a dance—one where neither of you wanted to stop.
“Just like that,” he rasps, his voice low and strained, betraying the control he’s barely holding onto. His eyes are locked on you, watching the way your body moves, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the flush of your skin. The sight alone sends a bolt of heat straight through him, and he can’t resist the urge to lift his hips sharply, filling you even deeper.
A startled moan escapes your lips, and his grin turns wicked. “Sensitive, aren’t you, your majesty?”
You lean forward, pressing your palms to his chest, your hair cascading over your shoulders like a curtain. “Quiet,” you murmur, breathless, though the command lacks any real bite. The way he fills you, moves with you, unravels you, leaves no room for authority—only the pull of desire.
Goo’s hands slide up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s desperate, devouring, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue sweeps inside, claiming you. He swallows your soft cries, his groans vibrating against your lips as he matches your movements with a feral need.
“Look at you,” he murmurs between kisses, his gaze burning into yours. “So beautiful like this, like you were made for me.”
The words send a shiver down your spine, a fire pooling low in your belly. Your thighs tremble, the pressure building inside you threatening to overwhelm. “Goo…” you whimper, your voice trembling with need.
“Don’t hold back,” he urges, his hands sliding back to your hips, gripping them tightly as he takes control of your movements, driving you down harder, faster. “I want all of it—all of you.”
Your head tips back, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. His lips find the curve of your neck, nipping and kissing as your body trembles against his. He feels you tighten around him, and his breath hitches, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
“That’s it,” he groans, his voice rough and strained. “Just let go for me.”
And you do. Your release crashes over you, leaving you gasping as waves of pleasure ripple through you. Goo holds you steady, his own movements growing erratic as he chases his release. His grip on you tightens, a string of curses falling from his lips as he thrusts one last time, spilling into you with a shuddering groan.
You collapse against him, your body trembling, your breaths mingling in the heated air between you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close as if shielding you from the world beyond this moment.
For a while, there’s only silence—the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the weight of his arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” Goo finally murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement but softened by something deeper.
You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Me? Dangerous?” you ask, a tired smile tugging at your lips.
He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re the Empress who just brought her guard to his knees,” he says, his voice low, teasing. “Tell me that’s not dangerous.”
You laugh softly, resting your head against his chest. “Then you must be reckless for indulging me.”
His hand traces lazy patterns along your back, his lips brushing your temple. “For you? Always.”
You close your eyes, letting the world outside this room fade away, just for now. The guilt and pressures can wait. Here, wrapped in his arms, you’re simply you.
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Goo hums as he polishes his sword, tilting it this way and that, even admiring his reflection in the blade. “What a handsome devil,” he muses, grinning at himself.
“Junggoo,” a voice cuts through his musings, calm but sharp.
Goo jumps theatrically, clutching at his chest like he’s been scared to death. “Gun! You trying to kill me?” he exclaims, glancing over his shoulder at the raven-haired man now standing at the door.
Gun doesn’t bother with a response, only rolling his eyes at the dramatics. “You’ve been reassigned,” he says bluntly.
Goo blinks, lowering his sword as his grin falters. “Reassigned?” he echoes, slowly standing, his lips already parting to protest. But Gun raises a hand, silencing him with a pointed look.
“Let me finish,” Gun says curtly, and Goo wisely shuts his mouth. “As I was saying, you’ve been reassigned to Her Majesty, the Empress.” Gun continues, his tone steady.
At this, Goo visibly relaxes, letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh, I thought—” He pauses mid-sentence, the words registering in his head. His eyes widen. “Wait. You’re serious?”
Gun gives a single, affirming nod. “General Choi’s orders.”
Goo’s grin slowly returns, and he’s already stepping forward, arms spread wide as if to embrace Gun. The latter narrows his eyes, and Goo halts immediately, retreating with a sheepish chuckle.
“Why the sudden change, though?” Goo asks, his tone genuine with curiosity.
Gun folds his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. “Since Her Majesty is with child, General Choi believes she requires more… specialized security.”
Goo raises an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Specialized? I’m flattered.”
Gun tilts his head slightly, observing Goo in that unnervingly meticulous way he always does. Then, with no warning, he takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “That child is yours, isn’t it?”
Goo freezes, though only for a fraction of a second. “What child? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he deflects, his tone light, his smirk firmly in place. “If anything—”
“You don’t have to act coy around me,” Gun interrupts, his gaze unwavering. “You think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes linger on Her Majesty longer than necessary? Or the smiles you two exchange when you think no one’s watching?”
Goo inwardly sighs, scratching the back of his neck. Nothing ever escapes Gun’s notice. “What’s it to you?” he says casually, though there’s a faint edge to his voice.
“Answer the question,” Gun presses, his tone leaving no room for evasion.
For a moment, Goo says nothing. He takes a step back, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he places his hands behind his back. Finally, he meets Gun’s gaze and offers a silent answer, one that needs no words.
Gun doesn’t react outwardly, his arms remaining folded, his expression as stoic as ever. “And how do you plan to handle this?”
Goo blinks, caught slightly off guard. “You mean…?” he gestures vaguely to his hair.
Gun pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling in exasperation. “Yes, that,” he mutters.
“We’ll call it a blessing,” Goo replies with a shrug, his smirk returning. “Besides, he’s going to die soon, isn’t he?”
Gun narrows his eyes, his tone shifting to suspicion. “And what does his death have to do with the child?”
“Our dearest Empress would be the sole ruler,” Goo says smoothly, his tone almost reverent. “You’ve seen how sharp she is. No one would dare challenge her authority.”
Gun’s expression remains neutral, though his silence prompts Goo to continue.
“Meaning no one would dare question the child’s legitimacy either,” Goo adds, his smirk now tinged with something darker, more calculated. He takes a step closer, placing a hand on Gun’s shoulder, his grip firm but deceptively casual. “And besides…”
His grin widens, playful yet faintly menacing. “I’ll be there to make sure no one does.”
Gun stares at him for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly, but he says nothing.
“Now, my dear friend,” Goo says, clapping Gun’s shoulder before stepping back. “Don’t you worry your head about me. You’ve got bigger fish to fry, haven’t you?”
Gun’s gaze sharpens momentarily before he exhales and turns to leave. Goo watches him go, his smirk never wavering, but his eyes glint with something far more dangerous.
As the door closes, Goo picks up his sword again, admiring his reflection in the blade. “Ah, such exciting times ahead,” he murmurs to himself, his grin widening as he hums a tune, the weight of impending chaos settling comfortably on his shoulders.
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23victoria · 8 months ago
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𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚝, 𝚂𝚞𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚊 ❀
∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿
𝚏𝟷 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚡 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜!𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
✿ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟾𝚔
✾ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢/𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚊! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎...𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?!
❁ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕
✿ 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝟷 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!! ꨄ
𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟸
𝚏𝟷 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
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∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿
The Suzuka Circuit buzzes with pre-race excitement. The paddock is alive with energy as teams make their final preparations, engineers tweaking last-minute details, and drivers mentally preparing for the grueling race ahead. You walk through the paddock with your helmet in one hand, exchanging smiles and nods with familiar faces. The Japanese fans are enthusiastic, their cheers a constant backdrop to the chaotic scene.
You spot Charles near the Ferrari garage, chatting animatedly with his mechanics. He sees you and waves, a friendly smile spreading across his face. "Hey, Y/N! Ready for today?"
"Always," you reply, matching his grin. "You better watch out on Turn 1. I’m coming for you."
Charles chuckles, shaking his head. "We'll see about that. Good luck out there."
As you continue down the paddock, you bump into Lando and Oscar, both engaged in a heated debate over something. "Y/N, settle this for us," Lando calls out. "Chocolate ice cream or vanilla ice cream? Which one is better?"
You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh that’s easy! The obvious answer is cookies and cream!"
Oscar stares blankly at you while Lando’s mouth drops. "I know you are lying right now, be so for real Y/N." Lando says. 
You walk away laughing, making your way to the Mercedes garage. The mechanics are busy with final checks on your car, and you take a moment to absorb the atmosphere. This is your sanctuary, your battleground. As you step inside, you’re greeted by George Russell, who gives you a friendly pat on the back.
"Nervous?" he asks, his eyes searching yours.
"A bit," you admit. "But it’s a good kind of nervous. It keeps me sharp."
George nods, understanding. "Just remember, you’ve got the skills. Trust yourself."
You give him a grateful smile before heading towards the Sky Sports interview area. The familiar setup greets you, and the interviewer, Rachel Brookes, waves you over.
"Y/N, it’s great to see you," Rachel says, microphone in hand. "The fans are excited, and so are we. How are you feeling about today’s race?"
"I'm excited," you say, the adrenaline already starting to course through your veins. "Suzuka is one of my favorite tracks. The fans here are incredible, so supportive and passionate. It’s an honor to race in Japan."
Rachel nods, smiling. "You’ve had a strong season so far. What’s your strategy going into this race?"
"To stay focused and keep pushing," you reply. "Every race is a new challenge, but I’ve got a great team behind me. We’re ready to give it everything."
"And how does it feel to have so much support, both from the fans and your fellow drivers?"
"It means the world to me," you say earnestly. "The fans' energy is infectious, and it really drives me to do my best. As for the drivers, we might be competitors on the track, but off it, there's a lot of mutual respect. It's like a big, sometimes dysfunctional, family."
Rachel laughs. "Well, we wish you the best of luck, Y/N!"
You thank her and make your way back to the garage, the race now imminent. Your race engineer, Amaria, is waiting for you by the car. Her calm demeanor is always a source of comfort.
"How are we feeling?" she asks, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of doubt.
"Nervous," you admit again, this time more to yourself than anyone else. "But ready. I want this win, Amaria. I really do."
Amaria nods, her expression serious but encouraging. "You’ve got this, Y/N. You’re one of the best drivers out there. Trust your instincts, trust your skills. We believe in you."
You take a deep breath, the weight of her words grounding you. "Thanks, Amaria. That means a lot."
She smiles, handing you your helmet. "Now, let’s go win this race."
You climb into the car, the familiar feeling of the seat and the controls a comforting presence. The world outside the cockpit fades away, leaving only you and the machine. You put on your helmet, securing it in place, and perform your final checks.
Amaria’s voice comes through the radio, calm and steady. "All systems are go. Remember, stay focused. You’ve got this."
"Copy that," you respond, gripping the steering wheel. The nervous energy has transformed into a fierce determination. You’re ready.
The lights go out, and the roar of engines fills the air. The formation lap begins, and you navigate the twists and turns, feeling the car respond to your every command. The nerves are still there, but they’re now a part of the thrill, a part of the drive.
You line up on the grid, heart pounding, every muscle tensed in anticipation. This is it.
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The roar of the engines surrounds you as you race through the circuit, the familiar grip of the steering wheel steady in your hands. Lap 28 is in full swing, and you're driving your heart out for the win. You hear the crackle of the radio in your ear, your race engineer giving you updates, but your focus is ahead. The track is slick from a recent shower, and the competition is fierce.
You see Ocon in the Alpine ahead, and you're pushing hard, determined to overtake into P5. Albon is close by in the Williams, equally determined to overtake your position as well. It's a dance of danger and skill, every movement calculated, every second crucial.
Then, it happens. In an instant, the world tilts on its axis. Ocon’s car clips yours, sending you into a spin. Everything slows down as the car flips and flips and flips, the ground and sky exchanging places repeatedly. Sky. Gravel. Sky. Gravel. Sky. Gravel. The violent motion is sickening, disorienting. You can hear the crunch of metal, the shatter of glass, and the scream of tires.
The barrier looms too quickly, and then you're crashing through it, the fence crumpling under the force. You're thrown into a building, the car smashing against the structure with a bone-rattling impact. The world goes black.
The pit lane erupts in chaos. Over the radio, a distressed voice calls for a red flag. The race comes to an abrupt halt, safety cars deployed immediately.
"Red flag, red flag. All drivers return to the pits. Safety car on track."
In the Mercedes garage, the engineers and mechanics freeze. George’s eyes widen in horror as he pulls into the pit lane, the scene replaying in his mind. Amaria is calling out for Y/N, but there is no response.
In the Ferrari garage, Lewis’s face pales as he listens to the radio, his heart sinking with every passing second. Charles Leclerc feels a cold dread in his chest. He can’t stop replaying the image of your car tumbling, the wreckage of what once was a powerful machine. His thoughts are a whirlwind, concern for you overpowering everything else.
"Who was it?" Lando Norris's voice crackles over the radio, fear palpable in his tone.
"It’s Y/N," someone replies. The pit falls silent, the gravity of the situation settling in.
Verstappen stares at the monitors, the usual competitive fire in his eyes extinguished by worry. His jaw clenches from frustration and helplessness. He knows the risks and accepts them, but it doesn’t make this any easier. 
Oscar pulls into the pit, ripping his helmet off. "Is she okay?" he demands, but no one has answers. The tension is unbearable.
As the safety crews work frantically, cutting through the mangled metal to reach you, an eerie silence blankets the paddock. Minutes feel like hours. The world watches and waits, breaths held, hearts aching.
Lewis paces, unable to sit still. “Come on, Y/N. Be okay,” he mutters under his breath, his mind racing through the years of knowing you, racing alongside you. He can't lose a teammate, a friend, like this.
George sits in the car, head bowed, fingers clenched around the steering wheel. He blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. The sight of your crumpled car, the uncertainty of your fate, it's too much to bear.
Back in the Ferrari garage, Charles slumps against the wall, his mind is all over the place. He has enough scars from this circuit already, he can’t add more, he needs you to be okay. He was drifting back to the moments you shared. The camaraderie, the rivalry, the mutual respect. “She’s strong. She’ll pull through,” he whispers to himself, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. 
Oscar and Lando exchange glances, both young, both terrified. It’s a stark reminder of the dangers they face every time they get behind the wheel. Their usual banter is replaced with a solemn silence, each lost in their thoughts, prayers for your safety.
The medical team finally extracts you from the wreckage, carefully placing you on a stretcher. The sight of your limp body, the blood, it’s almost too much to bear. You’re airlifted to the nearest hospital, the severity of your injuries still unknown.
∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿
The air in the paddock is thick, filled with tension, anger, and worry. Max stands near the Red Bull garage, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the sea of people for a familiar face. His voice, sharp and commanding, cuts through the chaos.
"Where is he? Where the fuck is Ocon?" Max's words echo with a mixture of anger and frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri hear the yelling, their own frustration boiling over as they join Max's side. "Yeah, where is he?" Lando demands, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Doesn't he know how to drive? Look at the damage he caused out there, to Y/N."
Oscar nods in agreement, his expression mirroring their shared outrage. "It's fucking ridiculous," he adds, his voice rising with indignation. "He's a danger to everyone on the damn track."
As they push through the crowd, their eyes searching for any sign of Ocon, a commotion erupts from the direction of the Alpine garage. Lewis’s voice rises and echos through the pit lane, a voice of anger and frustration. George shouts joining him, a chorus of fury that pierces the chaos.
Max, Lando, and Oscar run to the garage, the yelling and commotion driving them forward. They reach the Alpine garage just as Lewis and George break free from the grasp of the engineers and mechanics, their eyes locked on Ocon with unbridled fury.
"Let me go! Let me go! I’m going to beat his fucking ass.” Lewis's voice reverberates through the paddock, his muscles straining against the hands that hold him back. 
George's shouts match Lewis's, “You bloody fucking idiot.” he angrily says as he tries to grab Ocons’ shirt. 
Lewis somehow manages to escape their grasp and lunges towards Ocon. Arm pulled back with a tight fist and powerful swing, he punches Ocon in the face, the force of the blow causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.
The scene is chaotic, a whirlwind of shouting and struggling bodies as engineers and officials rush to intervene. Max, Lando, and Oscar push forward, their own anger fueling their desire to confront Ocon.
But before they can reach him, security arrives, their presence a barrier between the drivers and their target. Strong arms grab hold of Max, Lando, and Oscar, pulling them back as they struggle against the restraint.
"Let us go! You fucker! Come here! You’re a fucking piece of shit!" Max's voice is fierce, his eyes burning with intensity.
Lando and Oscar echo his sentiments, their shouts blending into a chorus of defiance. “You bitch, if she dies it’s on you! You hear me! You don’t deserve to be a driver! How could you be so fucking reckless?!” they say as they try to get to Ocon. But their efforts are in vain as security tightens their grip, guiding them away from the Alpine garage.
Ocon is escorted away, the tension in the paddock reaches a boiling point. The drivers are told to return to their garages, the promise of further confrontation hanging in the air like a storm cloud.
Lewis, George, Max, Lando, and Oscar exchange frustrated glances as they are escorted back to their garages, their desire and anger to get to Ocon are outweighed only by their shared worry for Y/N.
∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿
Hours pass in agonizing silence. The race, ultimately canceled. Updates on your condition are scarce, and the paddock is gripped with fear. Every beep of a phone, every whisper, sends a jolt through the waiting crowd.
Finally, news comes through. You’re in surgery, your condition is critical but stable. The relief is palpable, but the worry remains. It’s a waiting game now.
Lewis and George sit side by side in the hospital waiting room, their faces etched with worry. They care for you so much, your smile and energy lighting up any room you walk into. They’ve been through so much together, and the thought of losing you is unbearable. They talk in hushed tones, sharing stories about you, trying to keep the fear at bay.
Max arrives, his usual confident stride replaced with uncertainty. He offers a nod to Lewis and George, joining them in their vigil. There’s a silent understanding between them, a shared grief and hope.
Charles walks in, his face a mask of concern. He sits across from the others, his mind still replaying the crash. He remembers you on the stretcher, lying so still, and his heart aches.
Oscar and Lando arrive together, the youngest of the group, their faces pale and drawn. They sit quietly, their presence a testament to the bond forged on and off the track.
Hours stretch on, the waiting room is filled with an oppressive silence. The doctors come and go, their expressions guarded. Every minute feels like an eternity.
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Amaria your race engineer enters, her face is grave but kind, understanding the emotional toll this night has taken on everyone.
“Hey,” she begins softly, “I know how much you care about Y/N and how difficult this is, but the nurses informed us that it’s past visiting hours. As much as we want to stay the hospital staff needs to do their work, and you need to rest. Her parents are on a flight here right now, they should be here by morning. The FIA decided we will have a meeting first thing in the morning to update you all on her condition.”
There are murmurs of protest, but they are weak, born more out of exhaustion and helplessness than actual defiance. The drivers know she’s right, but leaving feels like abandoning you.
Lewis stands first, setting the example. “We’ll be there bright and early,” he promises, his voice firm. 
The others slowly rise, their reluctance palpable. As they file out, each offers a lingering glance back towards the surgical doors, hoping for the best.
Charles stops by Amaria. “Please, make sure we know the moment there’s any change,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amaria nods. “I will. Try to get some rest. She’s in good hands.”
Charles nods, smiling weakly, “You too Amaria.”
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The atmosphere is heavy as all the drivers sit in the room waiting for news on your condition. You can see the tiredness and weariness on their face. Even though they were told to get some rest it’s obvious none of them could. 
Finally, Toto and Amaria walk in. “She’s out of surgery. She’s stable, but it’s going to be a long recovery.”
The room exhales as one. Relief floods in, but the road ahead is daunting. You’re strong, a fighter, and they all know you’ll pull through. But the scars, both physical and emotional, will take time to heal.
Lewis reaches out, squeezing George’s shoulder. “Thank you, Lord. She’s okay,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.
Max nods, his eyes brightening a little. “Yeah, she is.”
Charles leans back into his seat, his eyes closed, tears escaping as he says, “She's okay, she's really okay. She's alive.”
Oscar and Lando exchange a watery glance, a silent exchange of relief passing between them.
You're okay.
𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝟸
∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿
© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.
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amongemeraldclouds · 8 months ago
Text
How Theodore Nott looks at you when
Part two, based on this request | 632 words | Masterlist
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…you’re academic rivals and Theo is about to leave the country for a student exchange program.
Theo: I can’t believe you came. You: Don’t flatter yourself, Nott. I’m just here to watch you leave and tell you something. Theo: Finally ready to confess your undying love for me? You: I’m actually here to — Theo: I have to catch my flight. It’s now or never because I like you too, okay? Just thought you should know that before I disappear for a year. You: Ah actually, I was going to say that I also applied for the program and got in last minute. So surprise! I’m coming with you! Theo: Oh so — You: You just embarrassed yourself, yes. Theo: Well — You: No, it’s too late! No take backs! Theo: You can’t — You: Fine. I like you too, okay?
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…you’re spending a lazy Sunday afternoon together (new relationship, shy!reader).
You: so I think that we should… *Theo looks at you and your mind goes blank.* Theo: yes, amore? You: I…look away! Then I’ll remember what I was saying. Theo: Come on principessa, how are we going to be in a relationship if I can’t even look at you? You: It’s your fault. Why are you so gorgeous? Theo: *laughs* This better? *he makes an ugly face* You: *slaps Theo* Stop, you still look so pretty. Ugh it’s not fair! Theo: Let’s practice then. Just keep looking at me until your thoughts return. We’ll stay here as long as it takes.
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…you’re enemies and he asked you to dance at the Yule Ball after he noticed your date ditched you.
You: Are you sick? Should I take you to the hospital wing? Theo: Ha, funny. Come on, it will be fun! You: What’s in it for you? Theo: The chance to dance with a beautiful girl. You: Are you trying to be nice? I think I’m the one feeling sick. Theo: Don’t get used to it. Cara mia, it’s a magical night, let’s forget we’re enemies for a few hours. You: I think I can manage that, but only for a few hours. Any longer and people might think we like each other. Theo: Wouldn’t want to ruin our reputation.
Of course everyone else already knew you like each other except for you two dummies.
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…you’re having dinner with your best friend.
You: They ran out of copies at the bookstore *sigh* Theo: Oh bella, what would you do without me? You: What did you do? Theo: *hands you a paper bag* I reserved the book and got it for you. You: Theo! This is amazing! I could kiss you right now! Theo: Then do it. You: … Theo: Don’t let anyone stop you from getting what you want. Not even yourself. You: We’re talking about the book, right?
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…you’re watching him perform with his band (rockband!AU).
You watched the boy singing on stage. To you he was the stranger you couldn't stop thinking about. You were walking on a crowded street, rushing home just like everyone else when you bumped into him.
The impact sent you falling to the floor if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. You beamed and thanked him. He was gorgeous with his intense gaze that held stories you could read for hours. His hair so wonderfully curly, you wanted to run your hands through them.
But you weren’t going to touch a stranger’s hair and be a creep. So hesitantly, you wished him a good day and walked on.
You were so glad you found him again, eating here at this restaurant with your friends. He was singing a new song:
A bustling sidewalk, a busy street A chance encounter in summer heat We collided, fate’s work of art I took your hand, you stole my heart
What are the odds he saved other strangers from falling on crowded sidewalks?
He smiled when he saw you and his eyes said everything you needed to know.
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✿ Masterlist
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