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luminnara · 7 months

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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

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cdragons · 5 months

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"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

#robb stark x reader #robb stark smut #robb stark imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #robb stark #forest fairy #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year

Text

Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back?

You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job.

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes.

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you.

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope.

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street.

The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone.

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch.

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs.

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.”

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk.

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work.

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work.

This is not new.

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone.

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead.

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..”

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are?

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!”

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?”

“Uh-”

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor.

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?”

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.”

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike.

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets.

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie.

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits.

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone.

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.”

He leaves.

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead. _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done.

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead.

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that.

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not.

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back.

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today.

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this.

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!”

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers.

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin.

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.”

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes.

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-”

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks.

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight.

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again.

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.

Eventually, he lets you go.

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”

His hands run up and down your sides.

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He does take care of you.

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.”

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?”

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.

“Okay. C’mere then.”

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.

“Come ride me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You catch your breaths.

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”

He tilts his head teasingly.

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

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marleyybluu · 8 months

Text

Three and Counting

husband/dad!Oscar x mom/wife!black!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Content warning: 18+, smut on your rooftop and down the chimney, domestic bliss, love and lust is everywhere, reader is pregnant again, pregnancy sex, no one is pulling out, creampies, backshots while pregnant, oral (f receiving), big dick Oscar, reader speaks/understands Spanish, Oscar talks you through it again, switching between names (Oscar/Spooky)

A/N: Though this was not the original, I'm still glad with how this turned out. not proof-read, sorry I'm too fried to do it lmao and again I've never been pregnant, don't know how well pregnancy sex works but I tried lol

not my gif. but spread my legs pls omg

"Mommy." A small whimper sounds below you in the middle of your pancake flipping process. It was 6:30 am and though you hated being up this early, you had to be. It was the first day back to school for your eldest son, Raphael, but it was your youngest daughter, Elliana's first day of kindergarten. Even though this was your second child you couldn't help but feel the sadness over your little girl growing up. It was bittersweet. You'd been home with Elliana for the majority of the first three years of her life, you bonded and were stuck to each other like glue. She's still sleeping in your bed most of the time no matter how much Spooky says you need to ween her off. But you just couldn't, that was your little girl. Your mini-me.

"Mi Amor? It's too early for you to be up." You yawn and rest your free hand on your rotund belly. Carrying baby number three was surprisingly draining. Your first two pregnancies were tiring, sure, but this one seemed to have you riddled with low energy.

"I know." She mutters fiddling with her fingers. "Is there something you'd like?"

Her little brown eyes, big and round just like your own, shift from side to side deciding in that little head of hers if she can admit her truth. You flip over another pancake before placing the spatula on the counter and you look down at your Elliana. You open your arms inviting her in, you hook your hand under her arms and say: "One... twooooo..."

"Threeee." She giggles as she jumps to assist you in picking her up. She sits on your hip and rests her head on your shoulder. "What would you like to talk about my sweet?"

She sighed. "I don't want to go to school. Can't I just stay with you and the baby?"

You smile softly. "I wish bebita, but you need school. School is good. Papi went to school and look, he owns a restaurant. Mama went to school and what does she do now?"

"Nurse."

"Exactamente." You say using the spatula to slide the cooked pancakes off to make room for new ones. "Plus you get to make awesome friends. I met your Tia Jasmine at school."

Elliana laughed. "Tia Jasmine está loca." You laughed along with her. "She is, she's always been like that. But that's why mommy loves her and chose her to be your tia. Entiendes?"

"Si... pero..." Her tiny shoulders sink with the weight of all these feelings. "Pero..." You encourage her to continue. "I had a dream one night, and... and I dreamt you and Papi left me at school. Everyone left, I was alone."

You gasp dramatically. "Ay, mi hija. We would never leave you there." You press a reassuring kiss to her temple. "We will always come back to get you, every single day. And I have good news, today... I won't make you stay the whole day. We will come to get you and Rafa early."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

"Claro que si! Maybe we'll go to the toy store, who knows. But you must go to school first. Deal?"

She squeals with excitement and kisses your cheek. "Alright, sneak back upstairs before papito wakes up." You whisper carrying her toward the staircase and putting her down on the steps, she walks back upstairs and you stay at the bottom of the steps until you hear the door open and shut quietly.

— — Elliana's small fist holds your two fingers as you walk her up to the school entrance doors where her new teachers are waiting. "Good morning Mr. And Mrs. Diaz, how are you?"

"Good. How are you guys?"

"Summer could've been longer." One of them sigh and pout. "I bet."

Raphael says goodbye to you and his father before turning to his sister, he decides to wait for her so they can walk in together. Oscar gives her a little pep talk and a small kiss before she looks up at you. You squat down as best you can to be at eye level with her. "Okay Ellie Bellie, I want you to do your best today okay? It's fine if you feel a little sad today it's normal."

She nods and her little lip trembles. "I love you so much." Your voice cracks and you know you have to say bye now or you won't leave her. You kiss her head and stick out your pinky and she hooks it with hers. "Go be amazing, mamita."

"Te amo."

You smile softly. "Te amo."

Elliana holds onto her brother's hand and they both make their way inside the building, it takes everything in you to not rush in and save her but you have to let her go. Oscar helps you up and holds onto you until you reach the car, he aids you inside the passenger's seat before heading over to the driver's side. "You okay?"

You nod turning your head to the window, a small tear slips but you quickly wipe it away. "Cariño. She'll be fine."

"I know." You sob. "It's just my stupid hormones." You lie. "Let's just go, if we stay any longer I'll end up going in there."

Oscar slips his hand under yours scooping you up and kissing the back of your hand... your fingers... your wrist. You smile as he wipes your tears away, so glad to have a man who just took care of you in all ways possible. "You want something to eat?"

Your mouth twists with consideration, you did technically eat an hour ago... and you are growing another child so you need all the nutrients that you-

"I'll take that silence as a yes." He says starting the car, you rest your head on his shoulder. He knew you all too well.

— — You did everything you could. Laundry, cooking, sleeping. But somehow the time wouldn't speed up. You and Oscar agreed you'd get the kids around 2:15, but it was only 12:30. You groaned getting up from your lounging position on the couch, and you waddle over to the kitchen meeting a few dishes in the sink. Another distraction for you.

You turn on the water, grab a sponge spill some Dawn dish soap onto it and get to washing. You hum a song that's been stuck in your head for days, unable to get it out.

Oscar comes up from the basement with a basket of laundry that he insisted on folding so you wouldn't have to struggle up and down the stairs. He huffs and drops the basket onto the floor and closes the door behind him. He hears your lovely tunes and follows the sound of your voice.

Oscar pokes his head in the kitchen, your back turned and unaware of his presence behind you. You reach over for your phone in the mood for some music, you play Get Close by Ari Lennox (the same song you were humming) and place your phone back down. His eyes burn through your skimpy clothes. Nothing too serious in your opinion, just a pair of old shorts and a navy blue tank top that was folded under your heavy breasts to help with the sweat. You were hot, you were always hot and it didn't help that it was the end of summer. Your belly was out, in your terms often saying that the baby just needs some air. He smiles sincerely.

He locked special moments like this away and for himself, he was just in awe of you no matter if you were carrying his child or not. If you were fully clothed or ass naked, you had him craving you. He felt himself begin to twitch in his shorts the longer he stared, his eyes zooming in on the tattoo of his name right under your cheek and another one on the back of your right thigh. His hands began to tingle with the urge to touch you, it'd only been an hour but it felt like an eternity.

Oscar makes his way over to you, A small touch on your lower back sends shivers up your spine and it places a smile on your face as well. "You should be resting you know?"

"I know, I just... I'm ready to go get them."

He kisses your ear. "Couple more hours." He mumbled softly snaking his arms around you, his hands cupping the underside of your stomach. "This kid is extra heavy today. It's killing me." You complain leaning back on his for some support, to use someone else's weight than your own to hold you up. "You need a lift?"

Oscar would often come up behind you and gently raise your belly, holding all the weight for you so you could feel just a sweet minute of relief and what relief it was, you couldn't believe you were carrying around all of it.

"Please." You sigh drying your hands in a towel. He squeezes himself closer to you and locks his fingers on your lower stomach. "Ready?"

"Mhm."

He lifts and you instantly sulk and huff with ease. Your head falls back on his shoulder and you smile softly. "This feels so good." You practically moan out. You two stay like that for a moment and find yourselves swaying side to side to the slow sultry music, your eyes feel heavy and they close just for a second. Everything about this was sweet and romantic until you felt... something. Your eyes pop open and you cover your mouth to muffle the giggle bubbling in your throat.

"Um... Oscar..."

No response. "Oscar..."

Still nothing. You tap his arm. "Spooky!"

"Que?" He answers annoyed. You bit your lip. "Are you good?"

He nods. "Why?"

"You're hard, you are poking me on of my cheeks right now." You laugh. "Sorry... I can't... I can't help it."

You shake your head and tell him to put your belly back down, you groan when all that load is back to being your responsibility. He hides his erection with his hands suddenly feeling embarrassed the longer you look at him. "Upstairs." You order him and he looks at you perplexed at the fact that you were the one giving him directions. Your hips reel him in as you make your way to the staircase.

"Let's go, Diaz."

But you didn't have to tell him a third time, he followed right behind you as you two headed to the room. He doesn't even bother shutting the door, just grabs you and tugs you into his embrace, attaching his lip to yours. Your hands cascade over his oversized arms giving them a loving squeeze. His hand glides across the small of your back and over the ample flesh of your backside. He aggressively grabs a handful of your ass and you gasp against his lips. You giggle, blissed out and wrecked before anything has happened.

He backs you up into the bed before he carefully pushes you down onto the mattress, you do your best to scoot further so he has room to join you. He hops on and finds his solace between your legs, caressing your smooth skin as he follows a pathway to your shorts, he drags them down and tosses them wherever too preoccupied with the treasure that is in front of him. His brown eyes practically glow when his eyes land on your heat, you clench around nothing but anticipation and want, the need for his mouth on you is obvious and you have no intention of hiding it when you stretch your legs out further for him.

Oscar gets the message and runs one of his thick fingers down your slit and slowly plunging into your hole but you need more, and he knows, so he vanishes between your legs working his tongue through your lips and navigating its way to your clit which he finds in no time-- you weren't pregnant with your third for no reason, that man knew your body like he was studying for a quiz. He knew what you hated, knew what made you tick and explode like a bomb.

Your eyes close, and your body surrenders to him instantly when he massages your clit the right way. He licks and sucks on your bud like he was trying to drain you, rid you of your energy. You hold your legs up and your nails dig into your skin making crescent shapes on the back of your meaty thighs. He continues to lap up your pussy juices, you clench around his finger that had yet to make its way deeper inside her. As if he read her mind he slips his middle finger back inside, when he pulls back once more he adds his ring finger and your eye twitches.

"Mierda... fuck!" You whine at the extra sensation. You decide to let your legs rest on his shoulders, your hands now free to touch yourself. You rid yourself of your tank top and cup your breasts in each hand, you light massage them-- they weren't too sensitive today. Your mouth slacks open as he pumps you at a quicker pace. "Oooh!" You cry out.

You sit up on your elbows and get a glimpse of his back muscles flexing along with the movements of his arm. You giggle hazily when he hits a certain area, your toes curl when he continuously presses against your spot, your head falls back and his name flows from your lips. You inch back but he has a good grip on you. You cry out and plead for him to let up but it's no use, his tongue dives inside your aching hole and you clench around the muscle. He moans at your taste and smacks your thigh with appreciation. You fall back onto the bed, eyes falling to the back of your head.

He gives you one more lick before sitting up on his knees. He looks down at the panting state that you're currently in and takes the opportunity to dispose of his shorts and boxers, he's rock hard and can't wait any longer, his usual blush pink tip has become a cherry red shade. Oscar strokes himself while gliding his tip between your folds. "You think you'll be okay on all fours?" He asks and you nod. He helps you sit up and turn around, he grabs your pregnancy pillow and forms it in a way that you can rest your stomach inside and be a bit more comfortable. Once you are set you tell him you're ready.

Oscar grasps a handful of your cheeks with one hand while his cock lays in the other, he nudges your entrance once again and finally sinks himself inside--carefully. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, the feeling of him sliding against your sticky walls never gets old. He groans pulling back and pushing in once again. He bottoms out and fills you to capacity. You mutter something about him being so deep and feeling so full. He rocks his hips at a steady pace, he likes to make you feel everything.

Every stroke. Every hit. Every rotation of his hips is torturous. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets and your body rocks with every thrust he gives you. You whimper and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle any more noises but it's a failed attempt when he spanks you, your body reacts by tightening its grip on his girth. He ditches the slow strokes and picks up his pace. The sound of your wet pussy squelching with every hit was like music to his ears along with the constant mumbles of his name that left your lips. "Papito, no puedo soportalo...fuck." (I can't take it anymore.)

He leans over and kisses the back of your shoulder, his chiselled chest is pressed against your back. His teeth nibbled at your ear, and his grunting mixed with a bit of whining was the only thing you could hear. Sounds of skin-to-skin erupted through the room and snuck its way through the halls.

"You can take me querida, you always take me so fucking well." He whispers hotly in your ear, you cry out over his words of encouragement. He sneaks his hands under you and toys with your clit. "You're squeezing this fucking dick, mierda, and you're so wet oh it's soaking me."

You can only croak out, "Oh, I'm cum-m-" before your body falls weak, goes limp, you convulse around his length and coat him nicely with your orgasm. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...ooooh Spookyyyy!" You drag out as you cream all over him, and he drags out your high continuing to pound into you like nobody's business-- as well as seeming to forget your current state. "I'm gonna cum in that fucking pussy, mama."

He rocks into you once more and stays like that, you feel him throb inside you and the warm spill of his seed spreads inside you. You hum in satisfaction and a smile is plastered on your face. "Shit..." He chuckles. "You good?"

You just nod completely lost in happiness. He gives you a little smack on your ass, a little sign of appreciation, he softens and pulls out leaving you empty and exposed with his nut and yours slowly leaking out of your pleased hole. You ease down to a more comfortable position and sigh, your eyes suddenly feeling heavy and your body sore and sleepy. Oscar rushes off to the bathroom for a clean rag, he runs it under warm water and returns to the room, he helps clean you up and once he is fine with the results he rinses it off again and tosses it on the dirty clothes hamper to dry a bit.

He comes back and closes the door behind him this time. "We got about an hour, rest, take a nap." But you're a step ahead of him, comfortable under the covers your body betrays you in the best way as it drifts off into slumber. Oscar smiles and joins you, he eases himself under the covers and pulls you closer to him, his fingers spread over your belly and he massages small circles on your skin. It was something that soothed him as well. "I love you, baby." He whispers. "We love you too." You mumble nuzzling into him.

-- --

"Today was awesome!" Elliana cheered as she skipped inside the house. "Mrs. Havenwood let us watch a movie, we watched Elemental. And then she helped me with spelling some words, and I painted a flower."

You beamed at your energetic daughter who seemed to have a jitter-free day, she hadn't stopped talking about her day since you and Oscar picked her and Rafa up from school. "Well, I'm happy to hear you had such an eventful day. So no tears?"

Elliana proudly says, "No tears." You reach out for her and she runs to hug you, you kiss her temple. "That's my big girl."

"I can't wait to go back tomorrow. And maybe... maybe you and Papa don't have to come get me."

Your eyes widened. "En serio? The whole day?"

She nods eagerly. "Si! I'll be fine."

"I mean... if that's what you want-"

"Yay! Thank you! Is it okay if I go play video games with Rafa?"

You nod. "That's fine, but not gun games, por favor." You glare at the both of them. They say okay and head upstairs together leaving you dumbfounded, you were ecstatic that your daughter had such a great first day but you were expecting tears... a little bit of sadness considering your conversation with her at six this morning. Oscar looks at you and offers his hand, you take it and he kisses your knuckles. "Sounds like she had a great day."

"It does."

He tilts his head. "Expected her to be sad?"

"A bit."

He nods understanding. "I get it, but I think it just shows you did a great job preparing her. Especially this morning."

You suck your teeth. "You heard us?"

"I did. I know when my little princesa isn't around me. But I'm glad she's comfortable enough at this age to tell you how she truly feels, you encourage her to be herself all the time and I think that helped a lot with today." He sweet talks, your eyes turn into hearts and your bottom lip pokes out. "Thank you." You whisper leaning forward and smooching your lips on his.

He kissed your forehead after. "You're a great mom. That's why I'm already thinking about the baby after this one."

You holler. "Boy, no, this is the third and last."

"You said that about Elliana."

"Well, I mean it this time." You say firmly. He nods. "Whatever you say, ma. Whatever you say."

I had fun writing this so I hope yall have fun reading this. If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. see you in the next one. peace and love 🤙🏾

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb @librarian1002

Who might be interested: @miyahmaraj @bigenergy777

#marleysfanfictions #spooky fanfic #on my block #marleywrites #fluff #on my block fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfiction #oscar diaz x black!reader #smut #oscar diaz smut #Spotify

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brookghaib-blog · 4 months

Text

Kaiju n8 : The secret of Hoshina pt.2

pairing: hoshina soshiro x reader

summary: The beggining of the story between Y/N and Hoshina

an: pls be free to warn me about any mistakes in my writing

previous chapter

—

Years before Mina Ashiro assumed command of the Third Division, the unit thrived under the leadership of Captain Y/N. Known for her tactical brilliance and compassionate leadership, she was a beacon of hope and resilience for her team. Vice-Captain Hoshina Soshiro, a master swordsman and strategic genius, was her right-hand man, his loyalty to Y/N evident in every mission they undertook together.

Their relationship began strictly professional. Y/N admired Hoshina's dedication and his ability to remain calm under pressure, while Hoshina respected her leadership and the way she inspired everyone around her. As they worked together, their bond deepened, forged in the crucible of countless battles and shared hardships.

It was during a particularly harrowing battle with a massive kaiju that their feelings for each other began to surface. The kaiju had attacked a civilian area, and the Third Division was dispatched to neutralize the threat. Y/N and Hoshina led the charge, coordinating their team with precision and bravery. In the heat of battle, they moved in perfect sync, their trust in each other unwavering.

As the battle raged on, Y/N found herself in a precarious situation, surrounded by debris and with the kaiju bearing down on her. Hoshina, sensing her peril, fought his way to her side, his sword slicing through the enemy with lethal efficiency. Together, they managed to bring down the kaiju, but not without sustaining injuries.

In the aftermath, as they caught their breath amidst the ruins, their eyes met. For the first time, they allowed themselves to acknowledge the deeper connection that had been growing between them.

"Soshiro," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Hoshina stepped closer, his usually stoic expression softening. "You never have to find out. I'll always be here for you."

Their relationship blossomed in secret, hidden from the rest of the Division to protect their positions and avoid any potential distractions. They cherished their stolen moments together, finding solace in each other's arms amidst the chaos of their duties.

Months later, Y/N discovered she was pregnant. The news brought a wave of joy and hope for both of them. They began making plans for a future beyond the battlefield, dreaming of a life where they could raise their child in peace, where they eventually organized a very secretive wedding to celebrate their love and become official in the eye of heaven itself, hoping to be blessed with happiness and the health of their baby.

One evening, after a long day of training, they sat together in their secret haven, a small, secluded part of the base garden that few knew about. The stars were bright above them, and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

"Soshiro," Y/N said, leaning against him, "I've been thinking about names."

Hoshina smiled, wrapping an arm around her. "Oh? Do you have any favorites?"

She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "If it's a boy, I was thinking of Kaito. And if it's a girl, maybe Aiko."

"Kaito and Aiko," Hoshina repeated, the names rolling off his tongue with warmth. "I love them."

Their happiness, however, was short-lived. During a routine patrol, a new and unusually aggressive kaiju attacked. The battle was fierce, and despite their best efforts, Y/N was gravely injured. In the chaos, she lost their baby, a devastating blow that left her physically and emotionally shattered.

Realizing she could no longer continue in her role, Y/N made the painful decision to resign from the Third Division. She needed time to heal, and the memories of what she had lost were too painful to bear in the place where it had all happened.

The night she told Hoshina of her decision was filled with tears and heartbreak. They sat together in their secret garden, the weight of their grief heavy between them.

"Soshiro," Y/N said, her voice trembling, "I can't stay here. Every corner of this place reminds me of what we lost. I need to leave."

Hoshina held her tightly, his own heart breaking. "I understand," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish I could come with you, but the Division needs me. Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise," she whispered, clinging to him as if trying to imprint his presence into her memory.

Y/N's departure was a quiet affair, known only to a few trusted members of the Division. She left behind a legacy of strength and sacrifice, her absence felt deeply by those who had served under her. Hoshina, in particular, felt the void she left behind, her absence a constant reminder of their shared pain and the future they had lost.

Years passed, and Mina Ashiro took command of the Third Division. Hoshina continued his duties, carrying the weight of his loss in silence. He never forgot Y/N, cherishing the memories of their time together and the love they had shared. He often found himself in the secluded garden, looking up at the stars and remembering the nights they spent dreaming of a brighter future.

Despite the pain, their story was one of resilience and hope. It was a reminder that even in the darkest times, love could endure, giving strength to face the challenges ahead. And though they were apart, the bond between Hoshina and Y/N remained unbroken, a testament to the enduring power of their love.

Every year, on the anniversary of the battle where they lost their child, Hoshina would visit a small memorial he had built in the garden. He would lay a single white flower on the stone and stand in silent remembrance, his heart heavy with both sorrow and gratitude for the time they had shared.

And though being separated by distance only, the memory of their love continued to guide Hoshina, inspiring him to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, just as Y/N had always done. Their love story, was marked by both joy and tragedy, both hoping that their healing would allow them to be together again.

#hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #kaiju art #soshino x reader #kaiju n8 x reader #kjn8xreader #fics #kaijun8xreader #kn8 x reader #kaiju number 8

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months

Note

omg that other anon is right, would you pls consider writing something about lando’s talk with emma?

you asked, i wrote and i hope you enjoy!

BONUS SCENE FOR - show me you love me (ln4)

Lando took a deep breath before knocking on Emma’s door. He knew what he had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier. The events of the past few weeks had opened his eyes, and he couldn’t ignore the impact his friendship with Emma had on Y/N anymore. He had to make things right, and that meant having this difficult conversation.

Emma opened the door, a bright smile on her face. “Lando! What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

He stepped inside, the tension in his shoulders evident. “Hey, Emma. We need to talk.”

Emma’s smile faltered slightly, but she led him to the living room. “Sure, what’s up?”

Lando took a seat, his expression serious. “Emma, this isn’t easy for me to say, but I need to end our friendship.”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Why?”

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about Y/N. Our closeness has been hurting her more than I realized, and I can’t let that continue.”

Emma rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, come on, Lando. Y/N’s just being dramatic. She needs to grow up.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “No, Emma, she’s not. I’ve seen how much pain she’s been in because of us, because of me. I’ve been blind to it, but not anymore. I love her, and I can’t keep hurting her.”

Emma scoffed, leaning back on the couch. “So, you’re just going to throw away our friendship because she’s insecure? That’s pathetic.”

Lando’s eyes flashed with anger. “Emma, this isn’t just about her being insecure. You knew how she felt, and you kept pushing the boundaries anyway. You knew what you were doing.”

Emma’s smirk faded, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. Don’t blame this on me. You were just as involved as I was. If you cared so much about her, you wouldn’t have let it get this far.”

Lando shook his head, frustration boiling over. “I take full responsibility for my actions, and I’m ashamed of how I’ve hurt Y/N. But you’ve been fucking manipulative, Emma. You enjoyed seeing her upset.”

Emma’s expression turned cold. “Maybe I did. But that’s not my problem. It’s yours.”

Lando stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. “Well, it is my problem, and I’m fixing it. I can’t be friends with someone who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. This ends now, Emma. Y/N is my whole world. Knowing that I caused her such pain is just- it's the fucking worst.”

Emma stood up too, glaring at him. “Fine, Lando. If you want to be whipped by your insecure girlfriend, go ahead. But don’t come crawling back when you realize how pathetic you’re being.”

Lando took a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination. "Emma, this isn't just about Y/N's insecurities. It's about respect. You've crossed lines that shouldn't have been crossed, and it's hurt someone I love deeply."

Emma's eyes flashed with irritation. "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/N needs to toughen up. We're just friends. She needs to get over it. She can't act like a goddamn child."

Lando shook his head, his voice firm. "No, Emma. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew how much it bothered Y/N and you did it anyway. That's not something a real friend would do."

Emma laughed bitterly. "So, you're really choosing her over our friendship? After all these years?"

"Yes, I am," Lando replied, his tone unwavering. "Because I've seen the pain in her eyes. I've seen the tears. I've seen how much she's struggled, and I can't ignore that. She means everything to me, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Emma's expression hardened. "You're making a big mistake, Lando. You’re going to regret this."

Lando stepped closer, his eyes blazing with conviction. "The only mistake I made was not seeing this sooner. Not standing up for Y/N sooner. She deserves someone who puts her first, and that's what I'm going to do. So, this is goodbye, Emma. I hope you can find it in yourself to understand one day, but right now, my priority is Y/N."

Emma's smirk turned into a sneer. "Fine, Lando. Run back to your little girlfriend. But you'll come back."

Lando nodded, his voice calm but resolute. "I won't. Bye Emma."

He turned and walked out of her apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was an end to a long-time friendship, but he knew it was necessary. His love for Y/N was worth any sacrifice, and he was determined to show her that she was his priority.

He knew they had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like they were on the right path. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and reassure her that she was the most important person in his life. And he would spend every day proving it to her, starting now.

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yurinaa-world · 9 months

Note

hello! can u do reader who likes to rest on characters lap? like whenever reader couldn't sleep but feel tired, they goes to character's lap while they're doing smth and reader sleeps :3 any characters but i prefer jing yuan n blade pls :D (its okay if u don't want to write this, i don't wanna pressure u haha and sorry for my bad english :'d i love ur works btw!!)

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: laying in their lap while they're doing things

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

Notes: IM SO SORRY I messed this up so hard, I wrote then I looked at the request, and I mentally slapped myself, If you didn't like this I would be fine rewriting it!

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

This guy literally doesn’t do anything all day, just has his eyes closed and just rests (Warning: I love making reader a very little dramatic when it comes to Blade)

Dead silence; he did not say anything to you once you lay on his lap with a smile on your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. He’s always been quiet, but right now, you're starting to feel the silence stabbing you from every angle.

"What aren't you going to say?" you asked, opening one of your eyes to stare at him from below. "Want attention that badly?" He gave you an amused look, looking down on you as if you were some kind of little child. "Well, there's no fun if I just lay here," you pouted, looking at the ceiling as well as at him, his fingers going through your hair. He's figured out what you want from him—attention, of course—yet he just does what you want him to do, or you'll complain about it all day.

So instead, he stays silent and plays with your hair, but his hand moves to your face, creasing your lips with his calloused fingers. "You're such a pain," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you and then moving away before saying, "Yes, yes, you kiss someone you find annoying." You rolled your eyes, closed your eyes again, and sighed loudly.

"I know, bladie, you can't keep yours off; no man can!" You laugh, obviously joking.

What a personality you have.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

“How needy, hmm? What a pleasure it was to spend time with you. a pity I have work to do." Jing Yuan teased while you lay in his lap, watching him from above: reading his boring yet important paper, “You offered and I took it; you know it’s unkind to decline someone." You responded by tracing shapes on the thigh you’re lying on.

"If you don’t want me, then I'll" you cut off before you could even finish your sentence. “No need; you’ve already come, so you're going to stay like this." He said before turning the page of his paper, "I was just joking." He said while ruffling through your hair, making you frown a little, that he messed with your hair.

You both lay in silence. You broke first, asking, “When do you think your paperwork is going to be finished?" He chuckled at your comment.

"A couple of hours, it seems."

“Hurry it up, and I’ll give you a gift."

You stated matter of factly crossing your arms in front of your chest, “What kind of gift?” He asked curiously, looking down at you, and you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s a surprise. Do it and find out,” he chuckled at your words.

"Alright, I'll take your word, but this better be a good gift since I'm working so hard for you, hmm, don’t you think?"

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail x you #honkai blade #honkai blade x reader #honkai blade x you #blade x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #star rail

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taesanluv3r · 3 months

Text

mini me.

girl dad! taesan au <3

based on this taesan scenario i posted. u and taesan's daughter is a menace (just like her dad), her name is vivienne bcs i've always wanted to name a daughter vivienne, vivi for short!! HEHEHEH reader is taesan's wife n mother of the kid btw <3 vivi calls her parents mommy n daddy TT no warnings tbh i think there's just one cuss word in the opening, fluffy cuteness, taesan is soooooo girl dad ugh. lowercase intended, pls excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!! MWAHHH ENJOYYYY

wc: 3,739

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"oh for fuck's sake!"

han taesan laughs as his wife's loud voice echoes through the walls of their shared home, smiling softly when the little girl sat on his lap tilts her head in confusion at her mother's sudden exclamation coming from the other room. "what's up with mommy?" han vivienne wonders innocently, her tiny eyebrows furrowed as she looks up at her dad who was just as confused as she was. "i don't know but it looks like we are about to find out!" he whispers in response, the sound of footsteps emerging from the opening that lead into the living room where they sat.

a furious looking yn walks through the door. she's all dressed up in a matching all-black skirt and blazer set, her hair neatly tucked behind her ear, all ready to head to work. pretty, taesan thought, but he just couldn't ignore the fact that his wife looked like she was about to burn the building down. "what's wrong, darling?" the man's voice is soft and he begins to get up from his spot on the couch, telling his daughter to go play with her new toys while he talked to her mom. "everything! my meeting got pushed back further and now the new shipment for the store is delayed. and then my social media manager decided she can't come into work today because of some family issue and then on top of that, vivi's babysitter just quit! just like that! when she was supposed to come in and look after vivi today! it's just so...ugh!" the woman whines, slumping down on the couch as her hands made their way to cover her face in absolute stress. taesan's face softens at the sight, sitting himself down right beside her and rubbing little circles against the small of her back.

"hey, hey...don't stress too much okay? look at me..." he says sweetly, grabbing either side of her face to look at him. taesan shoots her an assuring smile, that same smile that never failed to send a swarm of butterflies to crowd inside of her tummy. "look, you just get to work and make the most out of it...i'll take vivi out today, okay? i don't have any work today so, i can take care of her, alright? don't worry, darling! you worry too much" he said, giggling when she leans into his chest and wrapping his long arms around her to pull her closer. "yeah mommy, you worry too much!" the squeaky voice of their one and only child interrupts their loving moment. the couple separated, watching as vivi climbs into her dad's lap once again before she turns to face her mother. "you know your hair will turn grey like a grandma if you worry so much!" her cheerful tone combined with her innocent grin makes her harsh words somewhat more bearable, a dramatic sigh escaping the woman's lips as she leans forward to attack the little girl in a ticklish set of kisses. "ah! mommy stop! daddy, save me!" vivi squeals in between giggles, crawling away from the woman's grasp to hide behind her father. the adult pair share a laugh and then a kiss before yn gets up to finally head out for the day.

"okay, mommy has to get to work and try to sort everything out in the office now. vivi..." yn drags out, her eyes narrowing as she looks down at her cheeky daughter who was the spitting image of the mischievous man she had married. "mhm...?" the girl replies, mimicking the way her mom prolonged her words. "you go bond with daddy for the day, okay? behave yourself, please?" instead of sounding like a command, the woman's words came out sort of like a plead. "hm..." vivienne begins, a tiny hand placed against her chin as she looks up in the air to think. "no promises! bye mommy! go now or you'll be late" she didn't even give her mom enough time to process the words before beginning to push at her legs to get her out the door. "bye darling! be safe, love you!" taesan calls out in between laughs, finding the mini version of himself's antics to be just...amusing.

"so...it's just me and you today, huh?" the man inquires, scooping the little girl up into his arms and pressing a happy peck onto her forehead. she squeals, playfully pushing his face away. she lets out a high-pitched giggle, the sound giving him slight cuteness aggression and it took every muscle in his body to not just stuff his daughter into his pockets at that very moment. "so what should we do today, hm? what do you want to do, love?" he asks, one of his large hands beginning to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her tiny little ears. "i know! i know!" vivi exclaims, her head that was leant against his chest shifting so that they were face to face.

"let's go to the mall!" she has this huge smile on her face, teeth showing and all, it was the kind of grin that you just could never say no to. not that han taesan would ever say no to his only child, his daughter, his little girl, the light of his life, his forever baby, his own clone, he would never! even if it meant spending all of his money on her every single time they stepped foot in the nearby mall...or any place that had things for sale for that matter...

a prayer for taesan's wallet, please.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"okay, so i watched a video on youtube...shouldn't be that hard, right?"

oh, but the ambitious dad was far too confident in his craft. as it turns out, doing a little girl's fishtail braid was far more complex than any kind of thing he's done before. he doubts himself for a second, she must've caught the way his eyes shook with worry from the mirror because in a second she had turned around to look up at the man, lifting her fists up in the air as she began to speak. "you can do this, daddy! i believe in you!" except the three year old could barely speak without stumbling over her words, her Ls turning into W sounds and the S in 'this' coming out with a lisp- but it's the thought that counts. taesan could almost feel the way his heart melted into a billion pieces, he began to wonder how on earth he got lucky enough to call this little menace his own child. then, with one deep breath and a newly found confidence, he separates a handful of his daughter's hair into four sections, saying a silent prayer before beginning to plait it just like the young woman in the tutorial did.

"is it done yet? i'm getting bored!" vivi whines, hands fiddling with the hem of her pink sweater. it's been nearly an hour since her father started working on her hair and it's safe to say that it was going nowhere! "um...hold on a minute...uh..." the man inhales all too loudly, staring at the entanglement of hair in front of him. "is it done? does it look cool?" the girl's eyes widen in excitement, staring into his own through their reflection. "well..." he trails off, biting his lip to stifle the laugh that was about to escape from it. "daddy, i wanna see!" her little arms were crossed over her chest in frustration and impatience. "i think...i think we should just leave your hair down today, love" her reaction to his suggestion was priceless, the excitement she previously displayed long gone and the most deadpan and uninterested look took it's place. taesan chuckles, "sorry, love. i'll try again next time, yeah?" he reasons, watching the way she nods in defeat and sighs as he began to unbraid (if you could even call that catastrophe a braid) his daughter's hair.

"can we go to the mall now? want ice cream!" vivienne says, tugging at her dad's vintage jeans. "mhm, go put on your shoes and we'll go" he watches as she runs over to the shoe rack towards the entrance of their home, an amused look plastered onto his face as his daughter struggles to put on her own shoes. if his wife were home right now, she would yell at him for standing still and not helping, but since she wasn't there at the moment the man took his time to laugh a little. "daddy...help me, please" vivi frowns, beginning to get annoyed by the footwear. taesan nods once, still giggling slightly as he bent down to sit on the floor with her. "watch closely i'll teach you to tie your laces now" he says, each end of the white laces in either one of his hands as he starts to demonstrate. "and then you loop this one over-" he was cut off by a baby-like scoff and a sassy eye roll from his kid. "daddy, can't you hurry up now?" he sighs, obliging and wondering where she had inherited the impatience from (ahem him ahem).

the car ride to the mall was peaceful for the most part. vivi insisted on sitting in the passenger seat, not wanting to be away from her dad for a second. taesan focused on driving, opening a bag of crackers for her to munch on so she wouldn't start whining about the rumbling in her tummy. "daddy what ice cream are you gonna get?" she asks, crumbs falling out of her mouth and her voice muffled by the half-chewed crackers. "me? hm..." he thought deeply about the answer, the car going dark as they entered the tunnel that lead to the basement parking area. "i don't know yet. what are you getting, love?" his hands graze the steering wheel, waiting for a response from the girl. "guess!" she exclaimed, hands in the air and a huge smile on her face. "maybe...mint chocolate?" taesan has a smirk on his face, knowing full well that was the wrong answer. "ew! no way daddy...that's gross! yuck!" he chuckled, parking the car as it came to a halt.

"c'mon" the man said, bending down to unlatch her seatbelt and lifting her out of the car before shutting the door and locking it. vivi grabbed onto his hand, tumbling slightly as she walked beside him in a zig-zag pattern. "ice cream time!" the girl squeals, the cool air-conditioning of the mall sending small goosebumps to appear on her tiny legs beneath her denim skort. taesan shook his head, "we gotta have some lunch before ice cream, love. or else your mommy would be very angry" he looked down for a moment just in time to catch her dramatic frown, chuckling at her sudden change in demeanor. "but i want ice cream" the man sighs, patting a hand against her head when she moves to hug his leg. "i know, love. and i will get you your ice cream after lunch, okay?" the tiny han girl nods in understanding, "now let go of daddy's leg so i can walk, please?" this time she shook her head, a playful and menacing smirk on her lips as she hugged him tighter. taesan clicks his tongue, beginning to waddle down the mall like an idiot.

"han vivienne...you will be the death of me"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"ice cream time!" vivienne repeats for the second time that day, shooting her dad a smile which he returned happily. "ice cream time!" he says as well, eyes widening slightly when she tugs him forward, walking so fast and pulling his arm with her. "okay, what flavour do you want, love?" taesan asks, his hands on his hips as he looked over all the options. "i can't see..." the girl mumbles, silently asking for her father to carry her up to his level. "oh, right, my bad" he panics, hastily bending down to lift her up. "um...i want...stawbelly!" her tiny voice breaks his heart into pieces, "you want strawberry? yeah? alright, one strawberry and one salted caramel, please" he's about to put her down but she refuses to let go of him (clingy baby TT). taesan laughs softly, "i gotta put you down so i can pay, love" he whispers, carefully bending down so that she could stand on her own.

"thank you, daddy" vivi says, smiling as she takes one large bite out of her strawberry ice cream. "you're welcome, love. is it yummy?" he asks, scooping up a spoonful of from his own cup. she nods joyfully, "mhm! it's delichuz!" the man furrows his eyebrows, "you mean, delicious?" he asks, trying to understand his daughter's baby talk. "yeah duh! that's what i said, silly" taesan laughs once again at his child's loud personality, grabbing a tissue to wipe away her dessert-stained cheeks as she messily slurped up the last of her sweet treat. "look here, i'm gonna send mommy a picture" he says, smiling when she strikes a silly pose. "mommy is gonna be so jelly!" she states and he nods, stacking up their empty cups to toss in the bin later.

"so...where to next, love?"

there's only one correct answer to that question. only one place in the whole mall, apart from the ice cream parlor, that feeds purpose to sweaty three year olds like han vivienne. a brightly lit store, rows and rows of all kinds of objects displayed clearly on shelves. every kid's dream, a place they would live in if they could, a place where all their parents end up spending the last of their monthly salaries in...

the toy store.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but han vivienne was no ordinary child. she was a menace, a spoiled brat, and had absolutely no shame. especially if it meant her loving father had to pay for it. and whatever happens at the toy store was no exception.

vivi squeals as she lets go of her father's hand to run into the store, the tall man following closely behind her. "hello there, what can i help you with?" one of the young ladies near the door asks, bending down to the kid's level to chat with her. "where are all the barbies?" she asks back sweetly, batting her eyelashes innocently as she spoke. "ah, right this way!" the lady energetically says, guiding the little menace over to where all the dolls were. "yay!" she cheers, her dad still walking behind her in a much slower pace. "ack!" she shouts, struggling to reach the beach-themed set that stood in a higher shelf, signaling for the employee to help her out a little. "oh, i got it, i'll help you hold it" the lady offers, earning a squeaky thank you in response. a few minutes go by and what was the one barbie doll in the worker's hand, had become a stack of five more similar toys.

"are you sure you want all of these?" the lady asks, her eyes widening when little vivienne hands her one final doll set. "mhm! don't worry, lady...daddy will pay for it! right, daddy?" the girl turns to grin widely at taesan. taesan who's cheeks were bright red from slight embarrassment, and eyebrows were tilted slightly so as to apologize to the poor employee his daughter had been dragging around. "okay, that's enough toys, vivi...now help the kind lady bring them to the register, please" his daughter nods, grabbing two out of the seven toys she had picked out and beginning to trot over to the counter to check out.

"yay!! thank you, daddy! i wuv you!" the little girl cheers, wrapping her tiny arms tightly around her father's leg. taesan chuckles, patting her head softly, "of course, love" the lady at the cash register smiles as she begins to pack away the toys into a paper bag. "her mom must be jealous..." she says, causing the man to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. "what do you mean?" he asks, putting his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. "i mean, your daughter looks exactly like you...makes me wonder what her mother looks like, sorry if it came off rude or anything...that's not my intention" taesan shakes his head, "no, you're alright..." he trails off, "you're right though. my wife tells me everyday how similar vivi is to me..." he continues, turning to look at the miniature version of himself who seemed to have found a mirror to stare into. "she's a daddy's girl, huh?" the lady asks, making him laugh. "i guess so..."

the conversation ends there. "here you go!" the cashier says, handing the man the big bag of toys he had just paid for. "thank you so much. hey vivi, you wanna come hold your things?" taesan watches as vivienne twirls around and waddles over to him. "hm...that's okay daddy, you can hold it!" the cashier bursts into laughter at the conversation exchanged between the father and daughter. "that sass...that's all from her mother" he tells the lady, shaking his head in defeat as the little menace grabbed a hold of his large hand, the bag of toys in the other one. "come again soon!" the employee says, waving goodbye at the little girl and her parent. vivienne grins one last time,

"don't worry, lady. we will!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the father and daughter duo are back home now. the rest of the evening was spent happily bonding within the comfort of their home. he had listened to her endless yapping about all the new toys she got today, smiling sheepishly at the little chatterbox he contributed in creating as they sat together on the floor by the television in their living room. then he put on her favourite show on the tv, letting her sit in silence with her stuffed animals as he waltzed over to the kitchen to prepare their meal for dinner. it began to rain outside so he had his doubts on ordering in, not wanting to burden the poor delivery man who would have to travel in this kind of weather. so instead, taesan opted for some instant noodles for the night- with no objections from his mini me either, of course.

"daddy lookie! i can slurp the noodles like uncle woonhak!" vivi says, tapping at her dad's shoulders to grab his attention. "oh yeah?" the older one asks, watching closely as the girl practically inhaled a forkful of noodles, causing her to choke up a bit from the broth. "ahem" she coughed and taesan panicked for a second, getting up to fill her disney princess cup with some water for her to drink. once they had finished up their dinner, the man carried his daughter back over to the couch, turning the show back on to occupy her while he put away the dishes and cleaned up in the kitchen. he quickly took out the trash as well, knowing his wife was coming home late tonight and deciding to do all the housework so she didn't have to worry about it the way she tended to.

"vivi, my love" he called out, walking over to where she was playing with her dolls on the couch. "come on, let's take a shower and get ready for bed" he said, beginning to put away some of the toys that remained scattered on the carpeted floor. "but we can still wait for mommy later, right?" the kid mumbles, her voice quieting down from the tiredness that finally began to seep through her little body. he smiled, nodding as he stretched his arms out to carry her into his arms. the dad's heart melted and his face softened as his baby nuzzles deep into his chest. he leans down to press a soft kiss against the very top of her head, holding her tight as they made their way over to the master bathroom to run a bath.

the warm bath paired with the combinations of lavender scented baby oils were enough to get the sleepy kid into a state ready for slumber. however, the purple pajama-wearing child remained stubborn, insisting that she could stay awake long enough to greet her mother when she got home. all taesan could do was laugh, knowing her words were far from the truth. but he nods along anyways, following her into the master bedroom and laying down under the comfortable covers. "i want Tayo!" vivienne requests, watching happily as the man puts on the show on his tv. she sings along to the intro song silently, encouraging for her dad to do the same too. soon, the kid who swore she wasn't tired yet began to drift off to sleep. her head resting against his chest, his fingers softly stroking through her freshly washed hair.

taesan didn't care to change the channel on the television. honestly, he was beginning to like the show about the little bus far more than he'd admit. the soft snoring coming from his daughter sent a feeling of warmth to engulf his own body. the man's gaze moved from the tv screen over to his precious child, he pressed a loving peck on her forehead, smiling to himself as she shifted in her sleep. "i love you, my mini me" he whispers, just a decibel louder than his heartbeat. a minute more went by and the creak of the front door causes his ears to perk up.

"taesan? vivi? i'm home!" yn's familiar voice echoes through the walls, a smile unconsciously sneaking onto his lips. "we're in the bedroom!" the man yelled out as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake the one snuggled against his chest. "hey, darling" he says when his wife finally enters the room, she looked exhausted, must've been a long day at work. "she asleep already?" the mother asks, leaning down to pat her daughter's slumberous head. her husband nods, sitting up carefully to catch her lips in his own. yn smiled into the kiss, as did he when they began to separate again. "so..." the woman begins, taking off her work clothes as she prepares herself for a shower. "what did you two do all day?" her question lingers in the air as she disappears into the bathroom, leaving taesan alone with the images of today replaying in his head.

"well, for starters..." he began, moving so that vivienne was fully laying on the bed. "we went to the mall today.." taesan gets up, following his wife into their shared bathroom. yn looked at him through the mirror, giggling when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed sweet kisses against her neck. "mhm...and then?" she asks, telling him to continue as she began to remove her makeup. "oh, and then that daughter of ours...she totally ran my wallet dry at the toy store..."

there was a pause for dramatic effect.

"again?!"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

HEHEH girl dad! taesan ☹️💘 i love him i love him i love him!!!!!! also han vivienne is such a cutesy name for a girl aw <3 anyways this fic made me kind of softy soft soft i might cryyyy 😭 hope u enjoyed, reblogs n feedbacks r so appreciated!! tysm for reading! love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#i love u girl dad taesan #i cried a little while writing this btw #boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #taesan #taesan x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #bnd x reader

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yuzurins · 1 year

Text

# i’m smitten with the thought of you

itoshi rin x gn!reader. sae and rin don’t have an estranged relationship. childhood friends to (eventual) lovers. crack don’t take this too srsly pls

“rin, say ahh!” you hold out a spoonful of cake in front of his face.

“shut the fuck up.” rin pouts, turning his head away from you.

you snicker, but your hand doesn’t falter. “come on! you know you want it~” you tease, dragging the end of the sentence as if you were talking to a small child.

he keeps his mouth shut, and you gush internally at the fact that he’s blatantly sulking. rin will never beat the allegations for being the cutest boy ever, even if he’s not the same as the sweet little boy you knew years ago.

desperately trying to hold back a laugh, you purse your lips and mimic rin’s little pout. “you used to listen to me much more obediently when you were younger.”

“you-“ you shoved the spoon into his mouth as soon as you get the chance. rin reluctantly complies but is quick to complain after. “that’s foul!”

you raise an eyebrow. “and that’s what the naughty boys get. tsk tsk.”

it’s obvious you don’t understand how wrongly your words could be interpreted by the way your expression stays unwavering. perhaps it was your dense disposition, or the fact that you’ve known rin since he was a kid in preschool.

rin thinks he’s being — and has been — painfully obvious about his feelings, yet you still fail to notice the faint blush creeping onto his face. even sae found out about it, and rin had to fight for his life to defend himself.

“rin. that’s practically incest-“

“oh my god nii-chan, you know that’s not true!”

sae can think you’re like a sibling to him, but rin doesn’t. in fact, he has never. he can’t deny that he’s had a crush on you the moment you were introduced to him as sae’s friend, and though it might seem like it was just puppy love, his current actions can prove that it isn’t.

“and you used to be so well-behaved back then.” you sigh dramatically. “did you know you would stick to me all the time, and get super jealous whenever i did anything with sae?”

the younger boy scoffs, standing up to go get a drink of water to make sure he doesn’t go insane from your ruthless teasing.

“hey! don’t run away!” you smile, eyes twinkling in amusement, as you get up to follow him. “it was really cute, i swear!”

choosing not the humour you, rin continues on with his task (that he could not care less about), humming in response.

you stand next to him and watch, occasionally feeling the need to poke him. starting from his arm, you string a line of pokes all the way up to his face, where you change your stance to pinch his cheek, a frequent action of endearment you used to do when you were younger.

needless to say, you were not expecting rin to grab your hand so promptly. and you most definitely were not expecting him to then lean towards you, not stopping until his face was merely an inch away.

“woah-“ you exhale as you stumble back slightly. he’s close enough for you to study all the details of his face, from the strands of his hair to the sharp curve of his jaw. he towers over you, his broad shoulders wide enough to engulf you completely into his presence. it’s funny, this scene is the complete opposite of what it was like as children, your roles entirely switched.

your breath hitches as his gaze locks onto yours, showing you all his pent-up feelings over the years for the first time. he’s determined, you can tell at least that much, but what surprises you the most is how dilated his pupils are; his eyes are begging to let you know his story, one of his long, endless pining for you, and you only.

it goes without saying you weren’t ignorant enough to overlook the reality that rin grew up, that he’s matured now. would it be cowardly for you to admit that you have indeed taken notice of his feelings at times, but refused to act on them in fear of losing him? what if you were wrong? what if rin didn’t like you that way? there was too much on the line, and you didn’t want to risk every memory you’ve made with him and sae for the past 12 years.

like an unspoken condition between you two, rin also knows the risks. he knows, but he’s so smitten it’s driving him insane. you’re a risk that he’s willing to take, and he’s had his mind made up since the beginning.

“yeah?” he whispers. “how about now?”

dumbstruck, you nod absentmindedly in response. almost like you were under a spell, and rin was the mastermind enchanting you.

rin smirks at the sight of your face heating up and flushing to a light red. “you still think i’m cute, y/n?”

“the cutest ever.” you’re quick to recover, flashing a small smile of your own. shameless, but you refuse to concede now. “care to prove me wrong, itoshi?”

“what the fuck are you two doing in the kitchen, oh my god.” sae deadpans. “rin, please pick and choose a better time to confess your feelings, thanks.”

you jump. rin groans.

“you need to pick and choose a better time to interrupt, THANK YOU.” rin scowls, letting go of your hand. the sudden withdrawal of his warmth disappoints you, but you smile nonetheless hearing their brotherly antics.

sae’s impassive, walking in between the two of you to refill his own water. “you two forgot all about me, i was getting worried that rin might’ve killed y/n or something.”

“as if!” rin rolls his eyes. “get out of here, at least let me finish.”

shooting him a quick side-eye, sae smirks at his little brother. “okay loverboy, just make sure to not make a mess in the kitchen.” and he swiftly makes an exit before any further retaliation.

“i hate him.”

“you know you don’t.”

rin sighs, closing his eyes for a few seconds.“i guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

you laugh, and grab his hand to play with his fingers, a not very subtle attempt to hide your beet red face. “think it was obvious enough, rinnie.”

his heart throbs at your use of his childhood nickname. “took you long enough.”

“so, will you continue to show me how cute you are?” you ponder as you look up at rin.

“stop treating me like a child, jeez.” and that pout is back onto his face once again. “i’ll show you anything you want, but i’ll make sure you won’t see me as just a cute little boy anymore.”

a/n: this was so crack of me. not proofread btw i wrote this in one sitting. ^_^ @kouyun <3

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batterygarden · 2 years

Text

aot relationship hcs

Ft. Eren, Armin and Mikasa

Sfw but no minors on my page pls, these are miscellaneous and sillly.. I wrote them in a haze after my melatonin kicked in yesterday…like 1 or 2 suggestive ones in there

Eren

He plays basketball (he’s rlly good 😔) and if you come visit him on the court he dribbles the ball around you rlly aggressively like “try n block me!” and you just stare at him straight faced because he is exhausting

He is simply the most DRAMATIC man alive. Like if you don’t give him endless attention, hold his hand, climb on him, act borderline obsessed with him… he might explode. If you go 24 hours without playing with his hair he is wearing all black and mourning your lost love… cause you must just not care about him anymore!

He’s also kinda a neat freak… another opportunity for his dramatics. If you leave a dirty dish in the sink for more than half an hour he is turning up in a hazmat suit like baby…. i can’t handle how dirty the kitchen is rn. (He’ll do the dish for you)

Casual shoplifter even though he can truly afford all the things he steals

He probably commits tax fraud too

Bad driver but over confident as hell. Driving almost 50 in a residential like STOP :/

Also… hello mr oral fixation. He’s constantly got a necklace in his teeth or something… and that’s all fine and good till you find YOUR OWN PERSONAL BELONGINGS in your boyfriends mouth god. Like give me back my nice pilot G2 pen you animal >:(

Takes rlly long showers and uses up all the hot water AND your fancy conditioner. He is definitely one of those product stealer men…

He also borrows ur claw hair clips and never gives them back 😔

Randomly pretends to beat up the air in front of you u like put ‘em up!! And you’re never sure how to react. Like you’re standing there doing the dishes and he assumes fighting stance and starts punching ghosts till you give him attention.

Armin

Accidentally rolls his eyes ALL the time. Like he doesn’t even mean to his face is just automatically sassy when he disagrees w something. But he’s self aware. Sometimes he’ll do it and you’ll pause mid-sentence then he’ll catch himself like WAIT SORRY. I didn’t mean to do that. 😔

Makes you dandelion chains without you having to ask.. or puts dandelions and other wildflowers on you all the time… in your hair, in your pocket, in the little holes where your shoelaces go.

he’ll just fiddle w your things absentmindedly CONSTANTLY… he’s simply a fidgety guy!

Like you’re sitting in the grass talking to him and he’s nodding along like Mhm Mhm… while he repeatedly zips and unzips your bag… rolling up and unrolling the straps etc.

but sometimes the thing he is fidgeting with is YOU. Your hands are a favorite… especially your rings and any jewelry you may wear 😮‍💨 this man is having a field day spinning the metal around your fingers.

He’ll sometimes over explain things/accidentally go into extreme detail and you’ll tease him for mansplaining. But a lot of the time he’ll the OPPOSITE of mansplain things and use words way too big / poorly dumb down the most CONVOLUTED subjects and you’re like slow down there mr graduated college early 😔 .. say that again as if I were a 5 year old please

His sport of choice is… wait for it… track. Yeah this man’s a runner… occasionally a hurdler… he’s got stamina.. have u seen those CALVES when he’s the colassal ! Major swoon

Pretentious as hell ab the music he listens to. Gatekeeps even…. NO PUBLIC PLAYLISTS.

He gets bad anxiety the night before work and stuff… also picks apart social interactions after they happen… generalized anxiety disorder king!

He’s a gossip of course…. Literally will give you a million looks mid social gathering that say “we’ll dissect this later”

Does weird only child things every day without realizing

Like arranging the Tupperware a specific and less efficient way than you and getting mad when you don’t put yours away like he wants it

Or getting annoyed when you don’t burn his candles a very specific way that apparently is “more efficient” 🙁

He also NEEDS alone/recharge time… social stuff can get exhausting to him!

Mikasa <3

Good w cars… best with cars out of the three hands down… she’s your personal mechanic 🥺

She’s also miss quiet road rage over here.. she seems calm and collected but she is cursing the entire lineage of the minivan driver that just cut her off in traffic.

Eats up some reality tv… and is embarrassed about it 😔 she asks you not to tell people she’s rewatching season 10 of the bachelor rn

Aggressive as hell to ucky men in bars / clubs… or just in general

Like “back the fuck off before I beat your ass” kind of aggressive… very protective of you and any woman ever in these type of situations

& she has the skill to back up her talk!! This woman is a martial artist/ full time gym rat… she is *strong*. You need not worry about your safety no matter the situation when you’re with her.

Her critical nature towards men nicely contrasts how much she LOVES bimbos lmao. Extremely forgiving and patient towards bimbos… she’ll explain things to you so so gently.

She’s somewhat shy with direct flirting before you’re official… kinda nervous to ruin whatever dynamic you two had going on to begin with.. but once your feelings are out in the air this woman is getting a medal for her direct communication skills.

“I need you to hold me really tight right now, I’m feeling kind of anxious.”

“I want you to kiss me please! Need to feel your pretty lips”

“If we were alone right now I would have you fully ***** and ********* *** ** ** ****** ****.”

perpetually cold hands.. and she warms them by sticking them in YOUR shirt or even occasionally your pants. Just sticking em in there and then staring at you like she’s doing nothing wrong … staring at you like you’re NOT getting goosebumps on your ass cheeks rn

Once she gets comfortable, Mikasa is CONSTANTLY TEASING YOU RIGHT WHERE IT HURTS.

like it starts light, creating a little inside joke or two, like making fun of the special way you prepare your sandwiches or how you make the bed.

But then you catch her giggling to herself one day and you’re like aww what’s so funny ^_^ and she says she was thinking about that time you embarrassed yourself in front of her parents 😔

But then sometimes if she’s not in the right mood she’ll get all sassy if you tease her back. All “okay but I didn’t say it like that 😒.” Then she’ll pinch you.

She texts like .. full punctuation and everything. At first you thought she was mad at you every time you got her notifications till you got used to it.

She looks KILLER in turtlenecks it’s ridiculous

#eren x reader #armin x reader #aot x reader #mikasa x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot headcanons #snk x reader #eren yeager x reader #armin arlert x reader #eren fic #armin arlert headcanons #eren yaeger headcanons #mikasa headcanons

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huckleberrykai · 1 year

Text

txt ~ why's it spicy?

pairing: txt x fem!reader scenario: txt vs plumping lip gloss warnings: just kisses !! silly lil hcs, reader wears makeup (lipgloss) obvs, maybe suggestive if u squint notes: IDEA FROM MY LOVELY 🐙 ANON! sorry this took so so long i've been so busy and distracted 😭 i think the ask was from like july but this idea was so cute and funny i love it ! i hope you like it <3 click here for my masterlist!

soobin:

baby is shook oh my god

soobin is such a kissy boyfriend, whenever you're alone together his lips are always on you somewhere ~ usually your own lips

and you love it, happily letting him kiss you all the time... completely forgetting the plumping lipgloss you tried out today.

he kisses you for a little bit - then pulls away f a s t

"baby.. did you eat something spicy? i- ouch"

rubbing his lips like a maniac

very obviously trying not to offend you but that lip gloss is ZESTY

"oh it's probably my lip gloss... it's supposed to tingle. it makes your lips plumper."

ensue confused soob

*scrunchy disgusted confused face activated*

"your lips are perfect already...? and that stuff burns. please throw it out... you don't need it."

pouty soob when you tell him you like the colour and don't wanna wipe it off heheh

basically BEGS bcs he wants to kiss u so bad

u have him the the palm of ur hand bro pls wipe it off for his sake 😮‍💨

yeonjun:

yeonjun LOVESSS messy makeouts

especially when you wear gloss bcs the smudges get him all riled up

bonus points for bright colours so when you kiss his neck or cheeks he can see the sticky marks - sure they're a bitch to clean off but man he loves it

so when he gets home to see the thick shiny red lip gloss on your lips he's a goner. he is ON you in seconds

"welcome home jun-mhph!"

very lost in you... it takes him a second to feel it but he ignores it

until it stops tingling just a little starts to STING

"y/n i think something's wrong."

and ur just like ??? until you realise

u start giggling at the fact his already plump lips are even bigger

"why do my lips hurt? it's like .. burning? am i allergic to your lip gloss? that sucks, you look so kissable :("

gets less sad when you explain it to him

"ohhh well it looks pretty. but please wipe it off, it hurts to kiss you."

and if you refuse.. man does nawttt give a fuck

will absolutely kiss you anyway even if it hurts LOL

beomgyu:

oh my god he's so dramatic

your lips look so shiny and pretty like his favourite jelly candies

and he lovesss kissing you when you have lipgloss on. especially when its the strawberry one you wear a lot

but this time the pink colour on your candy lips was nottt strawberry

when he lunged into kiss you you tried to warn him! but he was not taking any notice! whatsoever!

"gyu wait i'm- mfph"

"YAAH WHAT POISON IS THAT! IT BURNS OH MY GOD"

rubbing fistfuls of tissues on his mouth

you absolutely burst out laughing

"it's just plumping lipgloss gyu... it's not poison"

"it tastes like you rubbed tabasco on there, how are you not crying?"

you just put more on to prove a point~ and since he messed it up with his kiss

"it's pretty. makes my lips look bigger too"

"what, so you can look like a fish? i miss the strawberry one :("

whines and whines like a child til you wipe it off

straddles you lap and applies the other one for you before slapping his lips against your own.

"better?" "much better."

taehyun:

taehyun usually doesn't kiss you when you're wearing lipstick or lipgloss

he doesn't like the sticky feeling and he also respects how long it takes you to do your makeup~ he appreciates the artistry and he's not gonna ruin that

usually resorts to cheek kisses or just hugs/handholding in public since he's not much of a pda guy. he knows you know he loves you and thats enough for him <3

but when he gets back from a trip and you meet him in a quiet corner of the airport before he gets swarmed by paparazzi, he just has to kiss you :(

you figured he'd wait until you were home for anything more than a hug, but when he smacks his lips on yours the second you're in his arms you squeal against his lips.

"what's wrong?" he pulls back at your squealing.

"i'm wearing plumping lipgloss. it might tingle a bit if you kiss me."

"i missed you too much to care. plus i could use a little plumping."

you laugh at him and he gives you one of his big happy grins, bearing his sharp teeth before diving right back in.

"damn that's spicy. i mean if you like it.. whatever. but ouch."

definitely laughed with you when people on twitter were commenting on his sparkly plump lips in the paparazzi photos on the way out of the airport >.<

hueningkai:

kai coming over for a very unplanned cuddle sesh was very exciting!!

but the unplanned-ness of it also meant he showed up before you had time to take off your makeup and get comfy

and without thinking you puckered your lips for a kiss before he even got through the front door

and being the obsessed lovely boyfie he is.. he isn't gonna turn down your delectable looking lips

so sweet boy is hit with the tingle of your gloss before you can remember to warn him

"... why are you spicy?"

????

"hm? oh sorry i forgot to take my lipgloss off."

"oh. why on earth did you buy spicy lipgloss?"

absolutely starts laughing his ass off thinking you bought it for the flavour

"its supposed to be plumping!! it tingles so they plump up!"

the defence does not help. laughs even harder.

"so you're trying to make them swell up? they look cute as they are! you should stick to the grape one, then you taste like grape juice and not spicy ramen."

half assed wipes it off with his thumbs and cups your cheeks gently and gives you more kisses

"mmm never wear that one again please."

"hm.. only if you let me cuddle molang."

"deal."

fluff taglist: @beoms-sugar @mazeinthemoon @n0-thisispatrick @strawberry-kirby @majestyjun @bibibinnie @beom-pyu @minholing @ohmahgods @txtistheloml

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hd-junglebook · 5 months

Text

Does He Know?

Part 1 - Word Count 4075

Masterlist

Authors Note: before you scroll away lets pretend Vince is not a hockey player for the plot.

Summary - In this you will meet Vince and Y/N, the beginning is so cute ngl I was kicking my feet imagining this in real life. Jack is introduced later, pls lmk what you think after you read. Enjoy !

warning - cuteness, hot men, cursing, men being men. the rest I cannot write because it's a spoiler.

Next Chapter Link Here

Y/N and Vince were snuggled up on the plush, charcoal gray couch in their cozy apartment. The living room was bathed in the warm, soft glow of the floor lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors.

On the television, an episode of "The 100" played, the sound of the dramatic post-apocalyptic dialogue filling the room. As the show cut to a commercial break, Vince turned to Y/N, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering light from the TV screen.

A thoughtful expression crossed his handsome face, his brows furrowing slightly as he contemplated his next words.

"Hey, I've been thinking about something lately," he said, his deep voice barely audible over the background noise of the television.

She shifted slightly on the couch, the soft fabric of her oversized sweater brushing against Vince's arm. "Mhmm? What's on your mind, baby?" she asked, caressing his curls.

Vince took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What do you think about the idea of starting a family? Of having a baby together?"

Y/N's eyes widened. A mix of joy and excitement washed over her delicate features, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. "Really? You want to have a baby with me?"

Vince nodded, his smile growing wider, revealing a hint of the dimples that Y/N adored. "Absolutely. I can't imagine anything better than creating a life with you, raising a child together."

Y/N felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the love and happiness that swelled in her heart. She threw her arms around Vince, hugging him tightly. The delicate clink of her silver Pandora bracelet filled the air as she caressed the soft strands of his hair.

"I would love that," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I've always dreamed of being a mom, of having a family with you."

Vince held her close, his strong arms enveloping her in a warm embrace. He stroked her hair gently, his fingers running through the silky strands.

"Just think about it," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear. "When you're tired from a long day, I'll come home and rub your feet, just like this."

He reached down and took Y/N's feet in his hands, massaging them gently. Y/N giggled, the sensation tickling her skin. The sound of the television faded into the background as "The 100" resumed, the dramatic music and dialogue a distant hum compared to the intimate moment they were sharing. Y/N giggled, the sensation tickling her skin.

"Keep going," she encouraged, sighing in contentment.

Vince grinned, continuing his ministrations, his fingers kneading the soft skin of her feet. "And whenever you get cranky or have cravings, I'll go to the convenience store and grab all your favorite snacks. I'll take care of you, every step of the way."

Y/N felt her heart swell with love for this man, for the future they were planning together. She gazed into his eyes, seeing the reflection of their dreams and hopes mirrored in their depths.

"And our baby," she said softly, "they'll have my face and your hair." Vince chuckled. "A perfect combination. They'll be the most beautiful child in the world."

They were in love, they were happy, and they were ready to start the next chapter of their lives together.

…

Four months later…

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft rays of gold across the spacious living room of Y/N and Vince's upscale apartment in Hoboken. Y/N stood by the window, sipping on a cup of coffee with way too much milk, her gaze fixed on the bustling city below.

"Vince," Y/N called out, turning away from the window to face her partner, who was hastily getting ready for work. The sound of Vince throwing his pajamas on the ground echoed through the room, a subtle indication of his frustration.

Y/N watched as Vince moved around the room, gathering his things and preparing for the day ahead. "Can't you stay for just a few more minutes? We barely see each other anymore."

Vince, already halfway out the door, paused for a moment, a hint of frustration flickering across her features. Vince's dark brown hair sat perfectly, catching the sunlight as he turned to face Y/N. The olive hue of his skin seemed to glow in the morning light.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Vince replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "I've got an early meeting today. I can't afford to be late again."

Y/N's heart sank at the familiar excuse. It seemed like work always came first for Vince, leaving little time or energy for her relationship.

This became an everyday occurrence, her begging for the bare minimum and him pushing her away but always finding a way to make up for it in the bedroom. And even that had gotten boring. She forced a smile, masking her disappointment.

"That's what you always say, Vince! It's always about work with you. What about us? What about our relationship?"

Vince's eyes narrowed. "You know how important my career is to me, Y/N. I'm doing this for us, for our future."

"But what kind of future will we have if we never spend any time together? You’re not doing this for us, it’s for you," Y/N countered, her voice rising. "I feel like I'm living with a ghost. You're never here, and when you are, you're too tired or distracted to really be present."

"That's not fair," Vince argued. "I'm working hard to provide for us. I thought you understood that."

"I do understand, Vince. But I have a hard job and I’m not neglecting you. There has to be a balance. I need more than just financial security and whiskey dick every once in a while. I need a partner who is actually present in our relationship."

Vince glanced at his watch, his impatience growing. "Look, Y/N, I don't have time for this right now, I can’t stand your nagging so early in the morning. Can we talk about this later?"

Y/N threw up her hands in exasperation. "When Vince? When will you have time for me, for us? Because it feels like that time is never going to come."

Vince sighed heavily. "I promise I will come home early tonight, and we will talk. I'm doing the best I can, Y/N. I'm sorry if that's not enough for you."

With that, Vince turned and walked out the door, leaving Y/N standing alone in the bedroom. She wandered back to the office, where her computer sat waiting on the desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N sank into the chair, her mind filled with thoughts of the growing distance between her and Vince.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Her eyes wandered to the framed photographs scattered throughout the room, memories frozen in time—vacations, celebrations, moments of laughter and love shared between them and Vince.

Each image seemed to mock Y/N, a painful reminder of the happiness they once shared. After a moment of introspection, she finally rose from the chair and made her way out into the hall, heading towards her office.

She busied herself with work, trying to drown out the nagging doubts and insecurities that gnawed at her mind. Hours passed in a blur, the click-clack of the keyboard the only sound in the silent apartment.

As the afternoon wore on, Y/N's phone chimed with an incoming text. Her heart leapt for a moment, hoping it was Vince with good news, but her hopes were quickly dashed. "Working late again tonight. Don't wait up. - V" the message read.

Y/N sighed heavily, disappointment washing over her. It seemed Vince was always working late these days. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a relaxing evening together, just the two of them.

Trying to shake off the melancholy thoughts, Y/N decided a hot shower might help clear her head. She made her way to the master bathroom and turned the faucet on, letting the water heat up as she undressed.

Steam began to fill the room as she stepped into the tub and slid down until she was sitting, knees pulled up to her chest, letting the spray of water cascade over her.

The heat seeped into her tense muscles, Y/N's mind drifted to happier times with Vince. She thought back to their early days of dating, how attentive and affectionate he had been.

Weekends spent exploring the city, lazy Sunday mornings tangled up in each other, stolen kisses and inside jokes. They had been so in love, so sure of their future together.

But somehow, over the past three years, they had gotten off track. The demands of both their careers meant less and less quality time together.

At first it was just dinners cut short or date nights postponed. But soon, it felt like they were two ships passing in the night, occasionally sharing space but never really connecting.

Silent tears mixed with the rivulets of water running down Y/N's face as she sat there lost in thought. How had they let things get to this point?

Was there still a way to find their way back to each other? She wasn't sure anymore. But she knew she wasn't ready to give up on their marriage yet, even if it felt like Vince already had.

With a sigh, Y/N reached forward and shut off the water, watching the last of it swirl down the drain. She couldn't hide in here forever.

Grabbing a fluffy towel, she stepped out and began drying off, resigned to another solitary evening.

…

Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Vince. In the week since their argument, his behavior had only become more erratic.

Late nights at the office were becoming more frequent, and when he was home, he always seemed to be on the phone, speaking in hushed tones and ending the call abruptly whenever she entered the room.

She had tried to convince herself that it was just work stress, that Vince was dealing with a big project or a demanding client. But the canceled plans and missed dinners were starting to pile up, and Y/N's suspicions were growing.

Y/N felt like a detective, piecing together clues and trying to unravel the mystery of her husband's behavior. But the picture that was emerging was not a pretty one.

Deep down, Y/N feared that Vince was hiding something from her, something that could shatter their already fragile marriage.

Amidst these swirling doubts, Y/N found herself at a family gathering, surrounded by well-meaning relatives who were all too eager to pry into her personal life. Her mother, who had never been a fan of Vince, was particularly persistent that night.

"Y/N, dear, have you met Ellens second son?" her mother asked, practically dragging a tall, handsome man over to where Y/N was standing. "He's single, successful, and quite the catch if you ask me."

Y/N's mother dragged her towards Jack, who was standing next to the piano with a champagne flute in hand. Y/N cursed under her breath as she walked hastily beside her mother.

As they approached, Jack looked up, his eyes as clear as the ocean. Y/N found herself momentarily transfixed by his gaze, a mix of confidence and intrigue.

"Hello, I'm Y/N," she introduced herself, trying to maintain her composure. "I'm sure you already know my mother." Y/N plastered on a polite smile, trying to ignore the twinge of annoyance she felt at her mother's meddling.

But as Jack started to talk, she found herself drawn in by his warmth and charm, forgetting all about the encounter.

Jack's lips curled into a small grin as he extended his hand. "Jack," he said simply, his voice smooth and inviting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N."

They shook hands, Y/N couldn't help but notice the firmness of his grip, the warmth of his skin against hers. There was something electric in his touch, a spark that made her heart skip a beat.

Her mother, sensing an opportunity, quickly excused herself. "I think I see Ellen in the crowd," she said with a knowing smile. "You two get acquainted. I'll be right back."

Y/N watched her mother disappear into the throng of guests, a mixture of relief and nervousness washing over her. She turned back to Jack, who was watching her with a curious expression.

"So…" she began, taking a sip of her margarita. "How come I haven't met you yet? I've met Quinn, but I've never seen you before."

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I guess we just run in different circles. Quinn's always been the social butterfly of the family." Jack sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. "And what about you? What's your story, Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to reveal to this handsome stranger. But there was something about Jack that made her want to open up, to let down her guard.

"Oh, you know," she said with a wry smile. "Just hangin around. I don’t really do much just work and sleep. Navigating life.

Jack's grin widened. "Aren't we all?" he said, raising his glass in a toast. "To the adventures that await us."

Y/N clinked her glass against his, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation. There was something about Jack that made her feel alive, made her forget about the troubles and doubts that had been plaguing her.

He had a quick wit and an easy laugh, and Y/N found herself relaxing in his presence. Jack seemed genuinely interested in her, asking questions about her life and her interests. It was a stark contrast to the distant, distracted Vince she had been living with lately as they sipped their drinks.

As the evening wore on, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Jack's eyes lingered on her, the way his hand brushed against hers as he reached for a drink. There was an undeniable attraction there, a spark that she hadn't felt in a long time.

But there was also something else about Jack, an edge of fun and mystery. He had a bit of a bad boy vibe, the kind of man her mother would normally warn her away from. Maybe that was part of the appeal, the thrill of a chase.

As the party wound down and Y/N said her goodbyes, Jack slipped a piece of paper into her hand. "My number," he said with a wink. "In case you ever want to grab a coffee and chat."

Y/N tucked the paper into her pocket, feeling a mix of excitement and guilt. She knew it was wrong to even consider reaching out to Jack, not when she was still married to Vince. But the seed had been planted, the temptation was there.

“I’m married, but I hope this isn't the last time we cross paths." y/n said as she took his hand in hers once more. "It was great meeting you, Jack."

"I hope not either," he said softly, meeting her gaze.

With a final squeeze of her hand and a roguish wink, Jack turned and melted into the crowd, leaving Y/N standing alone with her thoughts and her racing heart before she composed herself.

…

The soft click of the front door lock echoed through the quiet apartment as Vince stepped inside, a bouquet of vibrant red roses in one hand and a rustling plastic bag filled with Y/N's favorite snacks in the other.

The sweet, floral scent of the roses mingled with the aroma of buttery popcorn and rich chocolate wafting from the bag, creating an enticing blend that filled the entryway.

Vince's footsteps were muffled by the plush, cream-colored carpet as he made his way into the living room. The soft glow of the table lamp cast a warm, inviting light across the space, illuminating the cozy leather armchair and the intricately patterned throw blanket draped over its back.

As he rounded the corner, Vince's eyes fell upon Y/N, curled up on the overstuffed sofa, a well-worn paperback novel resting in her lap.

She looked up at the sound of his approach, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sight of him standing there, an apologetic smile on his face and his arms laden with gifts.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, a myriad of emotions passing between them in the silence. Y/N's gaze flickered from the roses to the snack bag, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice soft and tinged with curiosity.

Vince took a step closer, extending the bouquet towards her. The crinkle of the cellophane wrapping seemed to punctuate the moment as he held them out, a peace offering.

"I'm sorry I ditched you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I'll be home more from now on."

Y/N's expression softened as she reached out to take the roses, her fingers brushing against Vince's as she accepted them.

She brought the blooms to her nose, inhaling deeply, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as she savored their delicate fragrance.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a hint of forgiveness in the curve of her mouth.

"Thank you," she murmured, setting the roses down on the coffee table with a gentle thud. The polished wood gleamed in the lamplight, reflecting the deep scarlet of the petals.

"And the snacks?" she asked, eyeing the bag with a mix of amusement and appreciation.

Vince grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sensed her mood shifting. He plopped down on the sofa beside her, the cushions giving way beneath his weight with a soft whoosh.

"All your favorites," he said, rummaging through the bag, the crinkle of plastic and the rustle of packaging filling the air. "Popcorn, those little chocolate truffles you love, and..." he paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a small, familiar blue box, "your favorite tea."

Y/N let out a small, delighted laugh, the sound like music to Vince's ears. She reached for the box, turning it over in her hands, the cardboard smooth beneath her fingertips.

"You remembered," she said, her voice warm with affection.

"Of course I did," Vince replied, his tone light and teasing. "I may be forgetful sometimes, but I could never forget the little things that make you happy."

Y/N leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, the softness of her hair brushing against his cheek. Vince wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her body seeping into his own.

For a moment, they sat there in comfortable silence, the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle and the distant hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the room.

"I really am sorry," Vince said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I haven't been around as much as I should be, but I promise, that's going to change."

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes searching his face, a glimmer of hope and love shining in their depths. "I believe you," she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing gently across his skin. "We'll make this work, together."

Vince turned his head, pressing a tender kiss to her palm, the warmth of his lips a silent promise.

…

It has been two weeks since her encounter with jack, now here she sat at her desk. She couldn't deny the spark she had felt, the way he had made her feel seen and desired in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time.

But even as she replayed their conversations in her head, a nagging sense of guilt tugged at her heart. She was still married to Vince, even if their relationship had been strained lately, he had done his best to come home earlier but duty calls.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Y/N turned her attention to the pile of mail on her desk. She began sorting through the envelopes, her mind only half-focused on the task.

Bills, junk mail, a postcard from her sister's latest vacation...and then her hand stilled on a plain white envelope with no return address.

Frowning, Y/N tore open the envelope, her curiosity piqued Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded in half. As she unfolded it, her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

It was a hotel receipt, dated from last weekend. The name on the receipt was Vince's, but the room was booked for two people. And there, at the bottom of the receipt, was a charge for a bottle of champagne and a couples' massage.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as the reality of what she was seeing sank in. Vince had been at a hotel with someone else, someone he had been intimate with. The betrayal hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs.

With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her phone. She scrolled through her recent calls until she found Vince's number and hit the call button.

It rang once, twice, three times before he picked up. "Hey babe, I’m really busy right now, can I call you later?” Vince's voice sounded casual, unaware of the bombshell that was about to be dropped.

"We need to talk," Y/N said, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Can you come home please? It's important."

There must have been something in her tone that alerted Vince to the severity of the situation because he agreed without hesitation. "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Y/N hung up the phone and took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn't know how she was going to confront Vince, what she was going to say.

All she knew was that their marriage, their life together, was about to change forever.

…

When Vince walked through the door, Y/N was waiting for him in the living room. His clothes were scattered around the apartment and their photos had been broken, the glass shards still remaining on the floor.

The smell of a floral perfume that definitely was not hers wafted into her nose.

She held up the hotel receipt, her eyes filled with tears and her voice shaking with anger. "What is this, Vince? And don't you dare try to lie to me."

Vince's face paled as he realized what she was holding. "A receipt?”

"No, you idiot!” Y/N cried, the tears now flowing freely down her face. "You've been cheating on me? You've been lying to me, sneaking around behind my back?"

"It's not what you think," Vince tried to defend himself, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"It's exactly what I think!" Y/N shouted. "How could you do this to me, to us? You were out getting rub downs at some hotel, Vince. I loved you."

Vince reached for her, but Y/N recoiled from his touch. She couldn't bear the thought of him touching her, not now, not after what he had done.

“I would cry myself to sleep next to you and you would turn away and complain. You didn’t care that you weren’t loving me the way I deserve to be loved!”

"Y/N, please," Vince pleaded. "It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. I’ll end it right now, just...just please stop crying."

But Y/N wasn't listening anymore. She was lost in her own pain, her own sense of betrayal. The man she had built a life with, the man she had trusted with her heart, had shattered everything with his infidelity.

Y/N shook her head. "I don't know if we can fix this one, Vince. I don't know if I can ever trust you again. What am I supposed to do?" she questioned, her voice trembling with emotion as she looked up to meet his eyes with more emotion she had ever felt in her life.

“How long has this been going on.”

Vince's gaze faltered, his expression clouded with guilt and regret. He looked down at the cream-colored carpet, unable to meet Y/N's gaze. "Remember when I asked you to start a family?" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

A flood of memories washed over her—dreams of a future together, plans for a family they had once shared.

…

Taglist <3

@rebelatbay @destineyxo13

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aayakashii · 2 months

Note

omg THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD AYA ❤️18 or 32 with haku pls 🙏🏻🙏🏻

❤️18 A kiss while laughing

❤️32 A kiss while someone watches

Ritsu was following you, for the 4th day straight. It was a new record. Usually he would follow you around for two days and disappear for a while, probably to creep someone else out.

You had no idea what was so interesting about you that had the paralegal so hooked on noting down your every step. Maybe he thought he could get good information about your curse if he followed you around?

You didn't see the reasoning behind his actions. It's not like stalking you gathered actual scientific information about your plight – maybe if it was Yuri or Jiro, you could make some excuses and say they were observing you like a little lab rat.

But all that Ritsu managed to do was annoy you to no end.

So you sighed heavily, scratching your head in frustration, while the Haku glanced at you with a genuinely sympathetic look on his face as you two walked towards your dorm.

“How long has he been doing that?” he murmured, subtly glancing behind his shoulder and towards Ritsu, who stood some meters away from you both, overtly following your steps.

“I don't know” you rubbed your face with your hands “I think for like… 2 months? Ever since we met at Sinostra.”

Haku widened his eyes.

“2 months? Why? Is he in love with you?”

You scoffed. Haku had a penchant for making everything into a shitty romcom plot. If you didn't know Towa and him already talked to each other sometimes, you'd probably introduce them so they could bond over their obsession with romance.

“No, he just wants to record my every movement” you said, knowing all too well that Ritsu probably heard you and wasn't ashamed in the slightest “Apparently he thinks it'll help his investigations somehow…?” you trailed off, not buying his excuse at all.

Maybe he was just a creep who liked stalking people and you were his favorite target. Who knows, at this point.

Haku hummed thoughtfully.

“Sounds to me like he's in love with you and doesn't know how to express it.”

You deadpanned.

“Haku, no. He's not.”

“How can you be so sure?” he side-eyed you, with a playful smirk tugging on his lips, and you shook your head.

“He's not.”

“Hey, he wouldn't be the only one, you know?” he winked, and you thought for a moment that he had been spending too much time with Rui for his own good.

You playfully pushed his arm and he chuckled, barely moving at all. Sometimes you forgot ghouls had superhuman strength.

After a few moments of silence as you two leisurely walked, he suddenly leaned towards you, a glint in his eyes as he covered his mouth, just like a child excited to share a secret.

“You know what we can do to embarrass him so he'll stop following you?”

“What?” you asked, fully intent on playing into his game.

“Kiss.” he replied with a smug and satisfied smile, his eyes quickly darting from your eyes to your lips, making his already clear intention even clearer.

You snorted.

“Is this just an elaborate plan to kiss me?”

Haku gasped dramatically and closed his eyes, putting a hand over his chest.

“You wound me, honor student. I am just looking out for you and I have your best interest in mind.”

“Pfft! Yeah… Totally no hidden intentions at all.” you rolled your eyes.

“None at all” Haku's eyes were locked into your lips.

You stared at him.

Truth to be told, you've harbored a crush on the man beside you for a very long time. You just weren't very sure if every word he told you was truthful, or if he just flirted with the first person that gave him attention.

The thought of him openly flirting with someone the way he did with you would always cause a pang in your heart, and this only worsened once Zenji raved about how Haku was a charmer.

Part of you wanted to be special, different. You wanted to be the only one in his mind, the only one to listen to all those honeyed words. You wanted to know he had truly fallen for you before you could ever allow yourself to give in to your repressed feelings.

Another part of you just wanted to say fuck it and accept the attention he was offering without thinking too hard about it.

You decided to listen to this other part of you.

“Okay.”

Haku snapped his head towards you, eyes comically wide.

“‘Okay’?!” he asked again.

It was your turn to smirk.

“What, didn't think things through before asking to kiss me?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

The surprise weaned off quite quickly and he leaned towards you, his voice getting huskier all of a sudden.

“Not at all. I've been thinking about kissing you for long enough now.”

You felt your cheeks tingle. Haku was insufferable. You wanted to give in to him so bad and just let your feelings run wild, but the fear that it all could consume you quicker than your curse still bound you in fear.

“Then do it for once, you tease.” you huffed, cheeks puffing and brows scrunching as you tried to appear annoyed.

Haku just chuckled.

“Aye aye, captain” he murmured, holding your chin so he could tilt your head upwards.

His lips gently brushed yours before he dived into the kiss, and you could feel his smile as he nibbled and sucked on your bottom lip – it was contagious. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your hands through his green hair.

The feeling of your fingers threading through his locks made him sigh and his hands circled your waist and pushed you flush against his body. Haku hummed into the kiss, delighted, hands drawing nonsensical patterns on your back as he tried to have you as close to him as possible.

Soon enough, however, you broke contact, gasping for air. Haku grunted, dissatisfied, still pursuing your lips.

“W-wait, wait.” you managed to mutter, putting your hand over his lips. Haku opened his eyes and grinned devilishly as soon as he saw your figure – face flushed, breathless, and disheveled.

“I could get used to this.” he muttered, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, still firmly holding you in his arms.

In your daze, you looked around, searching for nothing at all as you breathed deeply and tried to calm your racing heart, when you locked eyes with a figure hiding behind a tree.

Ritsu was red as a beet while he watched you, disgust and embarrassment quite clear on his face.

“I don't think he left just because we embarrassed him.” you said, licking your lips, blatantly staring at Ritsu's comically aghast expression.

“Who? Oh.” Haku said, briefly forgetting what even started the whole situation.

He smirked, side-eyeing Ritsu for a second before turning your attention back to himself. He held your chin upwards and caressed your bottom lip with his thumb before bringing his face closer to yours once again.

“Then I think we might need to kiss again and again until he gets the memo.”

Full masterlist

#tokyo debunker #haku kusanagi #tokyo debunker haku kusanagi #drabble event #ask

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Text

Never Before

[Waiting For A Lifetime II] Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader (im sorry i couldn't help myself T_T)

Summary: Never before had Daemon, prince of Valyria, been so sure of anything in his entire life.

Word Count: 7k+ 💀💀💀

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, i have slight pov shifts kinda i hope its not confusing, probably poorly translated high valyrian, sibling quarrels T_T, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hello im 6000% invested in this that i made a moodboard MY MODERN!DAEMON NONNIE I HOPE YOURE READING THIS I HAVE A MADE A PART 2 ENJOY MY LOVE i hope you enjoy it T_T come back to my inbox and tell me what you think pls T_T i beg. this btw is a p2 and you 100% need to read the first chapter to appreciate this i think lol "Waiting For A Lifetime" (but to be fair, i doubt you need to read it to get what's happening though) ps the valyrian wedding vows are from reddit Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony also everyone who commented and messaged me about it my fic @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia

"Viserys!" Daemon shouted as he galloped loudly down the halls. He paid no mind to the staff greeting him good morning as he called out for his brother. No one minds. They are far too used to him. His hair jostles with his movement, yet he barely heaves as he runs. He is far too used to this.

Daemon changes the name he calls as he practically jumps down the stairs with how much excitement was in his bones, "Aemma!"

He huffs as his tousled, silver blonde hair flies over his face as he makes it downstairs.

The prince nearly collides with a servant who just exited a room he passed. He braces her, grunts as he pushes past. She squeaks and quickly mutters an apology that is quickly ignored.

Daemon runs down the hall, making a quick turn when he reaches a corner.

Had it been anyone other than the Wild Child himself, it would have been a concerning sight to see a man running frantically so early in the morn. However, Daemon had done worse, far worse in his youth especially. It was best to rather just get out of his way, lest he accidentally injure you in an unfortunate collision.

Daemon busts into the dining room with a dramatic bang, fitting of his innate dramatics. Finally, he was out of breath and catches it as as his brother and sister-in-law cooed at their newborn babe.

He huffs, walking over to the joyous family, absolutely illuminated by the sound of the young heir's laughter and seemingly indifferent to his entrance.

Daemon releases a sigh at the sight of them.

The little girl squeals in excitement as her mother rattles her toy over her face.

Viserys finally turns to his younger brother, "oh. You're awake."

Daemon reaches him and slaps a hand on his back in regard, making a beeline for Aemma, who he promptly seals into a hug and kisses her cheek.

"Off, you cunt," Viserys points loudly but emptily, making his wife snort.

Daemon smirks at the reaction to his theatrics, glad to finally have attention, smile widening as he takes his turn to coo to his babe, "Rhae-Rhae!"

Viserys rolls his eyes, "Rhaenyra."

Aemma gives her husband a look, swatting a hand at him, "I think it's a cute pet name, lovie."

"Aemma," the man sat by the side of Rhaenyra's high chair shifts on his seat, "Ray-ray was the name of his dog when we were kids."

"But you're much cuter than him, innit?" Daemon says as he reaches out to Rhaenyra, "you're so much cuter than my widdle pitbull was."

Aemma breaks into a fit of giggles upon learning the dog's breed. From the spot where she stood to the right of Rhaenyra's high chair, she threw her head back, her long platinum blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder. She thinks it's fitting that the prince cared for a pitbull; the most misunderstood breed of canines, she thinks.

Viserys watches as Daemon takes his daughter, "she's not going to let you hold her."

Daemon ignores him and beams when the child is successfully in his arms.

Victorious.

That is up until she broke into a loud fit of tears.

"Aww, shh, shh," Aemma coos at her daughter, "it's uncle Daemon! Uncle Daemon."

"Yes, uncle demon," the child's father states, "who will not hesitate to steal your candy the minute he can."

"Viserys," Aemma warns.

The said man raises his arms, "I won't let him, lovie."

Daemon turns to Aemma with worry written on his face and moves to bring the baby for her to take. When he turns to his brother, Viserys has a shitfaced I-told-you-so look written all over him.

Daemon decides to ignore it, not even sparing an eye roll that was itching in his skull. Aemma takes Rhaenyra and hushes her in her arms. The effect is instant. Daemon looks on blankly yet in awe. Viserys catches the way his brother sighs in what he could only describe as delight. The former walks over to Viserys, circling behind him to pull the seat to his side and hunch over with intent.

Viserys shoots him a look. And here he thought his brother wanted merely to have breakfast. He should have known, "what do you want?"

These words alert Aemma, who turns from her spot as she continues to rock the already pacified baby in her arms.

"I want mother's ring."

Aemma gasps, eyes widening, jaw slacking.

Viserys pulls his head back, screws his eyes shut, then shakes his head in disbelief. He opens his eyes as he says, "you want what?"

"The red one," Daemon points, "you know. I always thought the emerald cut suited mummy's finger."

Aemma beams, "oh my gods, Daemon!"

"Wait," the king raises his hands, "wait, wait-" he turns to his excited wife, "wait," he eyes Daemon, "why you asking for the ruby ring?"

"I just said that-"

"Don't fuck with me."

Daemon straightens up at the sound of the king's hiss. He then snorts, unable to mask his amusement over his older brother's annoyance. He leans on the table and then grabs a piece of some of the sliced fruit. He chews the sweet melon and grape in his mouth, lips curving into a small smirk, "I'm going to get married."

Aemma cannot contain the squeal that slips out of her mouth, "DAEMON!"

"Fuck off," Viserys mutters, leaning back on his chair, "don't mess with me, you nitwit. I will have your arse if you-"

"No, I'm serious," he places a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I have met..." Daemon exhales, shaking his head. He holds his tongue, trying to think of the right words to say. Aemma and Viserys both are stunned by this, the latter most especially. The prince purses his lips then utters, "the most enchanting woman and..."

Aemma whimpers, hand coming up to her lips, tears glassing her eyes.

Viserys shifts in his seat to turn to his brother.

"I..." Daemon shakes his head, turning away from his brother in thought. He knits his brows as he chuckles to himself. He retreats his hand, "I have no idea how, or why, but I just know," he turns to Aemma, "she's the one."

Aemma bursts into tears upon hearing the admission. She hands her daughter to her husband then heads off to Daemon to seal him into a tight embrace. Daemon laughs as he stands and meets his sister-in-law halfway, cooing at her as they hug affectionately. He rubs her back, and kisses the top of her head, "aww, my sweet girl, we do not deserve you."

The king is too stunned to do anything but hold his heir.

The embrace lasts a good ten seconds.

"Gods, Dae," Aemma whimpers, "I'm so happy for you."

Viserys is frozen in his spot as he holds Rhaenyra. He looks out to door and calls, "someone! Someone come and bring a maester! My brother is terribly ill! He's in fucking love!"

Aemma and Daemon pull away from each other, chuckling as they did. The former swats Viserys and the latter waves at Rhaenyra, who was looking up at her papa, then idly turned to her uncle.

The king sighs before he turns up to his brother, "well, tell me about her. I would damned die trying to wrap my head around what kind of woman got you so worked up like this."

Aemma watches as Daemon's face lights up. It warmed her heart so dearly to see his good-brother like this.

"I cannot put it into words, Vis, but the moment I saw her," Daemon waves his hands around, "I- it was like... the wind was knocked out of my lungs."

"Gods. The Mother. The Stranger. The Smith," Viserys whimpers, standing from his chair, placing his daughter on the highchair. He pats her bald baby head, "lest I hurl on you, my love."

Aemma is sill very much sobbing. She clutches Daemon's bicep, "so?! When did you meet her?! What's her name? What does she do? What does she look like?! Do you have a photo of her? Show me a photo of her right now!"

Daemon chuckles at her rapid fire questions and grabs her cheek, leaning his forehead onto her. When he pulls away, he places his cherished possession into her hand. Daemon pushes past her and Aemma looks at the small white card with much intrigue.

Daemon feels a tingle run down his spine as he hears Aemma read the name out loud. He steps in front of his brother as his sister-in-law chimes, "she works at a museum and is a professor part time," the woman turns to her husband, "she's an intellectual, Viserys!"

"I'm going to need that ring, brother," Daemon declared.

Viserys turns to Daemon, eyes narrowed in both scrutiny and annoyance by his telltale spoiled attitude, "I can't just get mum's ring. It's in the vault with-"

"It's not in the vault," Daemon asserts, "Rhaenys borrowed it for the recent gala and it's still in the storage chamber here. I was the one that signed off the insurance papers for it to be shipped tomorrow. It's Not. In The Vault."

Viserys sighs and rolls his eyes, "oh, very well, let's get it both."

"I am more than capable of getting it my-"

"No!" Viserys raises a finger in respite, "the last time you were in the storage chamber, you nearly cost both of us our heads with the tragedy you laid upon grandpa's antique pottery."

Daemon takes his turn to rolls his eyes just as Viserys begins to walk off, "I was nigh but 13, you dunce!"

The elder snaps a glare at the younger, "I'm astonished you've convinced yourself that you found any semblance of maturity past that age, demon."

Daemon rolls his eyes again. Aemma calls out, "wait," grabbing her daughter, "we're coming with you." She jogs up to her brother-in-law and hands him back the card. Daemon places it in his pocket, "thank you, my love."

"Lovie," Viserys calls out, "just enjoy your breakfast, we shan't be long," he places his hands on his wife's shoulders.

"Oh, breakfast can wait, this is far more exciting, lovie," Aemma grins.

Viserys is weakened by her and sighs. He presses a kiss on her forehead, "fine. Do you want me to carry Rhaenyra?"

"I've got it, baby," she smiles, leaning into him.

Daemon watches them as they walk off. His stomach is in knots, thinking about how badly he wants that to happen with him and his love this very instant.

Daemon didn't need help to find the ancestral ring. The moment they walked in the chamber, he made a beeline for the object with not a second thought.

He takes the box and opens it, heart leaping into his mouth as he grins from ear to ear. He closes it with a thud and raises it in his hand with an expression of a boy opening gifts in Christmas morn, "I've got it."

Aemma giggles, rocking her baby with excitement, "look, Rhaenyra, uncle Daemon's got a ring."

Rhaenyra looks out inquisitively as her uncle walks over.

Uncle tries, getting on one knee, opening the box, "will you marry me, Rhaenyra?"

Viserys instantly kicks him down, "oh, fuck off, you incipit twat!"

Aemma giggles, as does the struck Daemon, felled on the floor with not a hint of offence.

When he stands, he lunges towards his brother, sealing him into a tight embrace, "you've made me a happy man, Viserys."

Viserys finds it tempting to fight him off and curse his bones, but he had not seen Daemon so sincerely excited and bright in a long while, and so he wraps his arms around him and leans into his touch, patting his back firmly, "alright, you bugger. Now let me see that card this time."

Daemon pulls away with a grin, pulling out the card for the king.

"Oh, let me see a photo of her!" Aemma shakes her hand out.

"I've not had the chance to photograph her," Daemon shakes his head, "don't worry though, I'll bring her home soon enough."

Aemma grins, hugging her daughter tightly. She coos at Rhaenyra and raises her small, soft arm up at Daemon, muttering as though it was the child, herself, speaking,, "and just how soon is soon, uncle?"

Daemon smiles at his niece, "why, this very moment, Rhae-Rhae," he leans in to gently pinch her rosy cheek. He then pulls away to swipe at his wrist, uncovering the watch beneath his dress shirt, "I'm calling her at 11:55."

"EEEK!" Aemma cheers, "Hear that, Rhaenyra? You're going to have an aunt!"

"Damn, Daemon," Viserys lifts his eyes up to his brother, "when did you meet her again.?

Daemon turns to his brother, shoving the box in his pocket. He got what he wanted; there was no need to mask anything. "Last night," he noted, reaching out to retrieve the card from him.

"I'm sorry," Viserys pulls the card away, preventing it from being snatched, "what?"

The prince sniffles, pressing his lips casually together, "I met her at the Blue Ginger last night."

Aemma's face falls into a inwardly concerned and shocked look.

"Give me the-"

Viserys steps back, pulling his arm farther back, "and there it is. There it is!" His neck strains at the intensity of his speech. He scowls at his brother angrily, making Daemon's jovial expression dim into a similar shade.

"So, what?!" Viserys shakes his head, lips curving into annoyance and disgust. "What? You fucked her then-"

"DON'T," Daemon points a finger, "FUCKING talk about her like that!" he seethed, stepping forward, bunching Viserys' shirt.

"Daemon!" Aemma calls out in concern.

Viserys scoffs, eye twitching in anger. He doesn't care that Daemon is staring at him with darkness, ruining his shirt in his fists. He rips the card in his hand into pieces. Daemon releases his brother in shock, face falling, jaw clenching.

"Viserys!" Aemma calls in shock, the same time Daemon barks, "you FUCKER!"

"Give me the ring, Daemon," Viserys commands, snorting, stiff as though he declared war, "I will not allow you to follow through with your frantic idiocy."

"I love her!" Daemon growls, teeth grit in fury.

"You want her!" Viserys corrects, stepping closer, "you've no idea what love is, boy! You want her like you wanted to be king then not!"

Daemon heaves at his brother's chastises.

"You met her yesterday! That is not love!" Viserys snarls, "it is nothing but love sprung from the head of your haughty cock!"

"Viserys!" Aemma cries.

"It is lust, Daemon!" the king proclaimed. He steps back, turning to the torn pieces of paper on the floor. He kicks it, but it barely does anything in affect, "you will not follow through with this madness!"

"You think I've not saved her number, dipshit?" Daemon shudders in anger. He grips the velvet box tightly in his pocket, feeling his body vibrate in hatred, scorn... hurt.

Viserys nearly drops his expression when he sees the glassiness of the prince's eyes.

Aemma's lips part, "Daemon."

"You told me you knew from the moment you saw her," Daemon points to Aemma accusingly before weakly dropping his arm, "that she was for you."

"Daemon," Viserys sounds defeated, "Aemma and I got to know each other for years before getting married," he whispers.

"And I will continue to know her for the rest of my life!" Daemon exclaims.

"Daemon," Viserys and Aemma call at the same time. The latter walks forward, placing a hand on the prince's shoulder, which is sequentially shrugged off. It hurts the queen, but she was kind enough not to push him further. The former sighs, raising his hands questioningly, "no matter how visceral it felt, no matter how drawn you were to meet her," the elder Targaryen states carefully, "you cannot be sure of-"

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN-" Daemon wails, desperate like a cat surrounded by water. His voice nearly breaks when he continues, "more sure of anything EVER-" he heaves, annoyed by the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. He shudders sharply, "not since the day mother died."

The tone in the room shifts drastically.

Daemon looks at his brother with pleading eyes as he recounts the memory, "I told you she... I told you she was dead that night, I told you I felt it in my bones, and you told me not to worry," tears finally streak down his cheeks, "we both woke up to father's ghost of a face."

Viserys remembers the day well. He remembers how adamant and frantic his little brother was that night. He had done his best to pacify him. Yet that morning it was he that was pacified by Daemon.

The king does a good job concealing his perceived weakness to his brother, he holds back tears he was to cry out, as the boy continues to plead his case.

"What's the point of waiting years, delaying something I am certain I desire now?"

"Daemon," Viserys says, almost helplessly, "you are a prince. You cannot marry on a whim and leave-"

"I will not LEAVE her!" Daemon erupts. He cannot take it anymore. He begins to fume, chest rising and falling quickly, "there was once a time when a prince was allowed to execute his wishes-"

"AND I AM THE KING!" Viserys bangs on his chest as he screams. He begins to heave just like his sibling, face succumbed to disdain. He raises his hand up to him, "give me the ring, Daemon."

Aemma feels her heart hurt at the sight of them. She feels her heart hurt especially because Daemon's face was wholly sullen, a complete contrast to what it was a while ago.

Daemon's face is blank. His defenses were up. Whatever brightness in hin was now gone.

"Is that a command, my king?" the second born utters under his breath.

The king thinks. He is tempted to say it, to do what he promised his baby brother he never would, exert his sovereignty over him. His chest constricts, his brows knit, his eyes begin to water. He cannot do that to him.

"It is a plea from your older brother, Daemon."

Daemon rolls his shoulders back. He holds back the quiver of his lips, "why should I listen to my hateful brother's plea when he did not listen to mine?"

"Daemon," Aemma calls, herself now overcome with emotion.

The said man walks away, pushing past them.

Viserys heaves. He watches his brother turn his back on him. He begins to flare with abhorrence and offence, "DAEMON!"

The prince does not listen as he walks away, storming out the storage chamber, slamming the doors on his way out. He mutters strings of High Valyrian curses as he roughly wipes his face on his sleeve.

Daemon soothes himself by remembering that Viserys was a rat, a gremlin, unadulterated rubbish, his absolute nemesis since time immemorial. He was difficult and cruel and irritating and selfish. He loathed him.

His eye twitches, his walking slows. Cunt. He hates himself for caring so much about him. Fuck him.

When Daemon gets to the garage, he wills the memory of choosing and purchasing the silver Benz with his rat brother in the very hell depths of his mind. He leans on the hood, his blonde hair falls on his face.

He'll turn around.

He snorts, wiping his philtrum.

He always turns around... he has to.

He pulls out his phone, blinking away the tears. He cusses when he sees that it was 10 am. There was no way he would get to the other side of town in time.

He gets in his car and drives off. He merely pulls over a few minutes before 11:55 to make good his promise.

Meanwhile hours before this incident, on the other side of the town, there was a heart as sulking just the same.

I had not gotten a lick of sleep in anticipation of this moment. I was hunched over on my desk, watching my screen, heart jumping every time the clock blinked with a new number.

"I got the One Eye comment again," a voice huffs as he walks into the office room, "people think they're so smart and original," his voice rises when he continues, "you told me I didn't look ridiculous with this on."

I straighten from where I stood, bent over, then turn to my side, catching the light haired intern, rip off his eye patch and slam it onto his desk. He roughly dusts off his jumper and pants for no reason other than annoyance.

I raise my brows at him and pout, "someone as handsome as you cannot ever look ridiculous, Aemond," I slump back down on my desk. I mutter, half-muffled, "it runs in the family."

Aemond rolls his eye, regretting it with the damned sty in the left one throbbed with pain. He huffs turning to me, pointing a finger, "you need to stop calling my damned brother pretty boy. He's starting to believe it."

I snort as my lips spread into a smile, "that's good; he is."

Aemond walks over to me, sardonic as ever, "historians aren't supposed to distort the truth, professor."

I stand, looking at his angular face, taking in his how the strands of his shoulder length hair, tied in a small bun, framed his sharp cheeks and jaw, how his pouty lips were curved into that of disdain. He was adorable, just like he was as a child when I met him perchance.

"Don't you teach me, kid," I narrow my eyes and purse my lips, "you're one failed review away from repeating the whole term."

Aemond is unfazed as he crosses his arms, "mmm, another term with a certainty to be had under your wing sounds delightful."

I roll my eyes, "Aemond."

Said Aemond's lips curl into a soft smile, enjoying the fact my words backfired on itself.

"We've been through this, my dear," I place my hands on his toned shoulders, "you're nervous about nothing. There's not a reason for you not to get hired here after you've graduated."

He hums again, relaxing against my touch, "and what of the failing mark my beloved teacher threatens to lay upon me?"

I huff as I pull away from him, drawing back my desk chair and plopping down, "you know I don't work like that, pretty boy."

Aemond clenches his jaw, "don't call me that."

I turn to him, resting my elbows on my desk, "why not? I think you're pretty too."

He turns away, thinking about his sty, thinking about how his breath hitched when he first met his beloved teacher, thinking about his brother, Aegon, made you laugh where he made things awkward in your first meeting, "that's the oaf's nickname. I do not want it."

I follow him with my eyes as he storms off, grabbing his eye patch, putting it back on. He then walks back behind me to finish labeling the books stacked there.

"Is it so bad to share a nickname with your brother?" I ask.

"Yes," he quickly blurts. Aemond doesn't waste another moment and grabs a book a lot rougher than normal.

I turn away from him, dejected by his ire. I grab my phone, seeing the time was 11:49. I brace my arms in front of me and lean down, sighing.

I repeat this process over and over and over and over and-

Aemond, who had been witness to it, finally asks, "what are you sighing about?"

"I'm waiting for a call."

"Mmm," he shifts on his place and presses his hand on a book, "is it from the Maester's Association?"

"No."

"Septa's Guild?

"No."

Aemond raises a brow, "they what are you so restless about?"

I check the clock for the nth time, heart leaping when I see it's 11:53. I straighten in my seat and begin to fix my hair. I clear my throat and do some nonsensical sounds to warm up my voice.

Aemond forgets about his task altogether and turns to me. His brows knit and he leans on the table, "who exactly are you waiting to call you, professor?"

I breathe in deeply, checking the time again. 11:54. I cradle my phone in my hand as though it is my lifeline.

"The love of my life."

Aemond straightens up, stiffening and deflating all at once. His face tenses so tightly, the sty irritates him again. For a moment, he is overcome with a bitterness in his throat. He thinks of his brother again-- but that can't be.

He clenches his jaw and relaxes. He thinks about how loosely that term is used when uttered upon his beloved professor's lips. He relaxes completely, releasing a breath. He turns back to his books, calming himself with his breathing.

He wonders out loud, "Alicent?"

Aemond thinks his guess to be right. After all, his cousin, your many times over research partner, had been in Essos for weeks for a riveting symposium. He was perplexed why you hadn't expressed the same enthusiasm in going there, considering the fact there was a dragon skeleton recently unearthed there, apparently Caraxes' no less. He did not buy the fact you weren't interested in the dig site at least, knowing how you were obsessed with his rider, Daemon Targaryen I.

"No, not Ali," I mutter, shaking my head.

Aemond thinks of another one of his professor's research partners besides Alicent.

I mutter softly, "someone else... you don't know him."

Him?

"... well," I chuckle, "I suppose you do."

Aemond is now utterly confused.

My heart nearly stops when my phone clock strikes 11:55.

Aemond once again forgets about his work upon hearing the gasp. He awaits the sound of the phone ringing.

The seconds passing are dreadfully unbearable. I count each and every one of them. By the time I reach 34, I begin to feel bile rise up my throat.

Dear gods, he forgot about me. He forgot about me, and he's not going to call. How silly of him to even promise such a thing. He's probably caught up in doing his princely politicking. Hell, I wouldn't even remember-

I gasp again, dropping the phone when it began to vibrate and ring. I choke on my breath, my hands fumble, my shoulders tense, my mind is racing.

Aemond watches this intently, how the most poised and composed person in his life began to break down like a tower of unglued blocks. He watches as his professor stares blankly at the ringing phone.

"Answer it," he urges, stepping forward once.

His voice wasn't even loud nor demanding, yet I still start at it. I nod my head profusely then scramble for my phone. I quickly gain my wits and answer the call.

I press the screen against my ear, carefully calling, "hello?"

"Hello? Hello! Hi! Hi, my love!"

Daemon sound ecstatic, relieved. My jaw is parts into a smile. I am heaving heavily through my mouth as my stomach swirls and my chest tightens. I grip on my elbow, breathlessly replying, "hi."

"Hi! Hi. Right. I'm pulled over in the side of the highway-"

"What?" I jolt from my seat. Aemond jolts as well. "W-wh-why? Are you hurt? Did something happen? What highway are you on? Should I call-"

"Hush, love," he chuckles, "lykiri," he hushes, calm down in High Valyrain, and continues in the same tongue, "calm down. I am well," he breaks into a soft laugh, "oh, my dear, my darling, I only pulled over to make good on my promise to call you at 11:55."

I release a breath of relief. I relax my shoulders, nodding my head, muttering mostly to myself, "on the dot."

I can almost hear him smile from across the line, "yes, my sweet girl... though a few seconds passed," he chuckles, "I hope you do not fault me for it."

"Never," I lean my head into my hand, releasing shaky breath. My breathing is shallow and my eyes flutter close.

My sweet girl. It was been so long since I heard his voice utter these words. A dam of memories break open and my mind floods with memories of him calling me this; it's all very tender, like an open wound. Tears begin to strain in my eyes and my throat constricts with a tight band of emotion.

"Are you crying?" Aemond mutters lowly that even he doesn't hear it.

"I reckon I'll be there in about 10 minutes, give or take," Daemon sounds guilty when he says this, "I'm sorry to make you wait, my pretty girl, but you can wait a few more minutes for your prince, can't you?"

I shudder out his name, biting my lip tightly for a moment, trying to even out my breath so he doesn't catch the sound of my sobbing, "10 minutes is inconsequential to how long I have been waiting for you."

He takes a moment to respond. I hear him sigh, "I couldn't sleep last night thinking of you either."

"You're the only thing I've ever thought about," I whisper like a secret, afraid to wipe the tears on my cheeks away, in fear of smearing my makeup.

He laughs at the admission. It is smug and self-indulgent, but it is unlike the other times I've heard him laugh conceitedly. At its core, Daemon sounded relieved, he sounded touched.

"I am glad to hear it," he openly affirmed, "I will come to you soon. Nothing will keep us apart."

His words squeeze my heart, my very soul, my being. I mutter softly, "drive safe."

"I will, my love."

My breath hitches. I lick my lips in preparation, but then I stop myself. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say-

"I love you," I sigh.

A beat of silence passes.

Part of me feels foolish when I am met with only ambient noise. I don't regret saying it at all though. I punish my lower lip tightly with a bite that draws out blood, but then I release it in shock when he calls back.

"I love you," he says, "wait for me."

The call ends.

The moment I put my phone down, Aemond is upon me. He gently takes my arm and words my name out carefully. He doesn't say anything else. He seemed not to know what else he could.

I turn to the tall man, one eye covered, strands of silvery hair still haphazardly framing his face. He adjusts his hold on me when I reach out to his arms, gripping the fabric of his jumper, not so much him. He has his hands on both my arms and he looks down at me with concern, speaking my name once more.

I turn away from him, blinking rapidly as it all sinks in, "it's finally happening."

"What is?" Aemond asks, almost helplessly, quite unlike his usually certain demeanor.

I turn back to him, lifting my chin to meet his gaze, releasing my clutch on his top, jumping into him to seal him into a tight embrace. He is taken aback by my sudden haptics, but immediately hugs be back.

"I'm finally going to have him."

"Have," he coaxes slowly as he bends to offer me more stability on my feet, "him?" Aemond voice strains, "who are you talking about?"

"My love," I break away, blinking tears as I look back at Aemond. There is a line of worry on his face, but I could not bring myself to offer him but only a quick caress of his cheeks as comfort and reassurance. I pull away, fanning myself, "dear goodness, I have to get ready."

I dash to my desk, swiping my bag, immediately running toward the bathroom.

Aemond could do nothing but watch and rack his brain trying to make sense of it all. He is so perplexed by it that he thinks of calling his brother for answers. In his lack of better judgement, he dials the contact and his phone begins to ring.

Aegon on the other line barely croaks a tired hello and Aemond is already demanding answers, "you were with her at the Blue Ginger last night, correct?"

There is a moment of silence. There was no need for clarification for Aegon to understand what the seven hells his younger brother was on about.

Daemon arrives at the museum, in his black three piece, black trilby, and dark red shades. He adjusts his glasses. For once in his life is damned annoyed by his unmissably strong presence.

Immediately, this steward walks over to him, her eyes roving all over, brows raised in inquisition. He doesn't let her speak to him, a finger raise is enough to silence her. He states that he had business with a professor and asks where he could find her.

He wastes no more time than necessary, heading off to the direction he was given.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, paying no heed to the people who spot and gawk at him, wondering louder than they should about who exactly he was. He makes his way upstairs and goes down the hall as he was told.

His cool composure is completely destroyed when he sees the person standing at the end.

"Daemon," I mutter sparing not a second's thought as I run over to him, not caring that I was in heels, or in a dress, or even that my perfectly restyled hair was being ruined.

Tears begin to prick at my eyes all over again. After all my talk in front of the mirror not to ruin my redone makeup, I couldn't bring myself to care in this moment.

Daemon strides over to me, quickening into a jog as he removes his hat and sunglasses, sighing heavily as his lips curve into a smile. He outstretches his arms in anticipation.

Aemond, catching the quick blur from the window, stops what he is doing and runs outside.

Quickly, and all at once, I am upon him.

Our chests collide with a thud, our limbs wrap around each other tightly. We bury ourselves into each other's necks, basking in the affection, in the scent of each other, in the warmth.

I cannot help but sob onto him.

He instinctively hushes me, lifting me off my feet as he does, "hush, little one, I am here. I am here. Lykiri."

I pathetically sob into his collar, "I missed you so much."

Daemon tightens his grip on me. He mutters in High Valyrian, "I missed you like I've been waiting a thousand years."

I choke as I brush my nose against him, "2000."

When he tries to pull away, I nearly scream in protest, "please don't pull away! Please."

Daemon sighs and leans down, allowing me to stand on my feet. He was so familiar to me, so much so I recognized his impeding action. I felt him brush his hands down to my waist. I knew exactly what he was going to do. I jump when he bends to grab me, carrying me into his arms. I tightly wrap my legs around his waist and nuzzle against him. Daemon cradles my thighs and nuzzles all the same.

Aemond had seen enough from the end of the hall at this point. He regrets spending his free time doing errands as he waited for his professor. He keeps his gaze on the floor as he quickly makes his way down the hall to leave, somewhere far-- as far as his legs would take him. He is all but ignored as the heavily infatuated couple pass him.

"My office is the last one," I mutter against Daemon's neck, eyes closed, finger tips massaging his scalp.

I open my eyes to check if he got the right room. He did.

A part of me is concerned when I do not see my favorite apprentice. The thought quickly evaporates when I am propped on a desk and hungrily kissed.

I moan on instinct when our lips connect. I readily return his fervor just as hungrily. My heart is thundering in my ribcage as his large hands rub up and down my back. I pull him closer, tightening my legs around him, tugging at the roots of his hair. He moans. Gods I've missed that sound.

I pull away from him when his hands trail down my thighs, attempting to hike my skirt up.

"Daor, ñuha zaldrīzes," I mutter softly, placing my hands atop his.

No, my dragon.

Daemon pulls back and huffs heavily, the heat of his breath brings goosebumps on my skin. He looks down at me, violet eyes blown, lips stained with my lipstick, a predator, made tame only by the call of his mate.

He kneads at my flesh, leaning closer, brushing his nose against mine, "I promise you'll like it," he leans deeper between my legs, "I'll make it quick, so no one sees," he steals a kiss on my lips, "you were made for my eyes only."

I wrap my arms around his torso, leaning into his chest as I shake my head in disagreement, "Daor, ñuha zaldrīzes," I repeat in his mother tongue, continuing all the same, "I don't want to rush you. I want to savor you completely and recount every inch of you."

He curses in the same language, calling out my name like a prayer, He kisses me deeply.

Daemon pulls back to bring his lips on my cheek, my jaw, my neck, then the back of my hand. He rubs my knuckles as he takes me in. I bring one hand to his cheek, in utter disbelief that I had him here with me finally, that he was here, right in front of me.

My spirit leaves me when he gets on his knee and pulls out a box from his pocket.

"Daemon-"

"Never before have I ever felt such feelings for anything, for anyone," Daemon looks up at me with wide violet eyes as he slowly opens the box. I stare at the large emerald cut ruby. It was as red as blood, as clear as day.

He speaks my name, like he burned it into his tongue, like it is the most scared sound in the world, "gaomagon nyke se greatest rigle hen becoming ñuha ābrazȳrys."

My lips part and my chest inflates and deflates.

Do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife.

He didn't even ask.

In the intensity of it all, my quivering lips curve at his words. My nostrils flare in amusement.

How very Daemon of him.

I slide down to my feet and reach out to him. He takes my hand with a hopeful look. My hand lands back on his cheek. He moves to pull the ring out as he grabs the palm on his face. "No, Daemon," is all it takes for him to crumble before me. I push the jewel back in its place and close the box.

Daemon's brows furrow as he watches me pull the wheeled desk chair back and sit there before him.

The prince's eyes and cheeks are wet with tears. The sight is soul destroying.

He clenches his jaw as he places his hands on my thighs, shifting down on both his knees, "why not?" He asks this so helplessly that it strikes a chord in my heart because it sounded so much like his cries, at least the ones that I heard in my last moments before coming back to life, seeing he traded his breath for mine.

I grab his face, shaking my head as I lean towards him, "I am yours, Daemon.; before you were even born, I was yours. Nothing in this world, old or new, will ever change that."

"Then why would you," he heaves a moment to catch his breath, hanging his head low, "deny me this?"

"Daemon, look at me," I call, lifting his head up, "this magic between us," I speak carefully, "this will never change. My heart has broken a million times, but you have remained my beacon of light.

His face scrunches, he shakes his head. I can tell there is a veil of confusion covering his mind and yet he is trying to understand.

I cup his cheeks, "that may not have changed, but the world has. I do not wish to cause you strife where strife should not be welcome. The world is looking at you now, more than ever before."

He clenches his jaw, "I don't fucking care how many worlds watch me while I shit," his nostrils flare, "I want you, I need you, I l-"

He looks physically pained when he stops himself from continuing.

"Daemon," I uttered, "tell me, what did Viserys say about this?"

Daemon recoils. A shiver runs down his spine as his face hardens with betrayal. His hands grip my wrists tightly, "it nary matters what my brother thinks-- he doesn't think, he only tells me what to do."

"My love," I frown, "the king only acts the way he does in his care for you."

"You know NOTHING of my brother!" he snarls, face reddening in rage, shoving my hands off him, "do not come to me all sage about him."

I withdraw from him, straightening in my chair, sighing as I place my hands on my lap, "you can bare your teeth at me all you want, but your fangs are cannot pierce me. You are a toothless babe in my eyes."

Daemon's cheeks twitches. His breath struggles. He drops the box on the floor with little care. I internally cringe at the sound of it.

"Daemon," I huff, "I know you only want the approval of your brother," I add, lowering my head to him, "I know it hurt you when he forbade you to go through with your plan."

He looks away, tears steaking his cheeks. He levels his breathing. He releases his tension and sinks on his knees. He doesn't look at me when he pulls me close to him by my calves and drops his head on my thighs. I feel dampness pool on my clothes. I begin to comb through his blonde hair. He grabs at my skirt helplessly, "he thinks me a fool, the king... a puppet, desperately in need of a puppet master."

"You know that's not true," I respond in High Valyrian.

"How do you know!?" Daemon lifts his head, hands taking mine tightly. His voice is shrill, it's defensive and challenging. And yet he repeats the same words, "how do you know?" voice soft, wondering and desperate.

I rub his wrist with my thumbs, "it will take more than my lunch break for me to explain it."

Daemon straightens up, immediately concerned, "no. No, you cannot leave me. You cannot make me leave. I-"

"I'm not leaving you," I grasp him tightly, "and I will never make you leave," I continue in High Valyrian, "no one said anything about leaving."

Daemon clenches his jaw, he shifts his hands in mine, linking our fingers together. He desperately adds in his mother tongue, "I will die if you do not become my bride."

I cannot help the chuckle that leaves me when I hear his words. I tighten my grip on him, then feel a foreign object on his pinkie. I turn to his hand and see the iron ring on it. My breath hitches. It is the exact same ring he had before. What a marvel that it's intact after millennia.

I pull away my hands. Daemon starts, not liking the idea of losing contact. His settles slightly when gaze turns to where mine was and he sees me pull the ring off his finger.

"Hen lantoti ānogar, v sȳndroti vāedroma," I start, slipping the ancient piece of jewelry bearing his family's sigil on my ring finger, "mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr," I look up to him, "izulī ampā perzī,--"

"--prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jenȳ māzīlarion," Daemon joins, expression perking, "qēlossa ozūndesi, sȳndroro ōñō jēdo," he brings his hands to my cheeks and leans his head against mine, "rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi."

Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass, the stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.

I gasp when Daemon's lips crashes into mine. His hands dart down to my hind, pulling me close to him, trapping his body between my legs once more.

We only break away in desperation for air.

"We are wed," I mutter, pressing another kiss upon his, "here and now I am your bride and you are my groom. We are wed. The gods are our witnesses." I brush my nose against his, closing my eyes, "the wedding can wait, but from now on you are mine."

"Mine," he repeats, lips curving upward, "my bride," Daemon brushes my hair back, "I would die if I ever witness your pretty finger naked of my ring." He takes my ring clad hand, kissing the skin at the back.

"Please," I shake my head, "stop with that talk," I mutter, brows furrowing, "I forbid you from doing anything that would ever lead you to death. I will not know what to do with myself if I lose you all-"

I am cut off when Daemon crushes me into a tight embrace. I relax against him, tightening my arms around him.

"You will not escape me," Daemon mutters, sinking his face in the crook of my neck, "you will never evade me. I will be your air, your ground, your thoughts, your dreams."

My stomach is in a flurry. My head is swimming in everything that is him.

"My love," he sighs, "my wife," he finishes his thoughts in High Valyrian, "there would be no world worth living if I do not have you."

I cannot help the tears that fall onto his neck. I kiss his skin and sigh in content, "I am so happy that you found me, my dragon."

"As am I," he hums, "and I will never lose you ever again."

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